Poking around BaseFook the other day, one of the ads from which they thought I would derive tremendous value from was a t-shirt for The Manual Gearbox Preservation Society. “Pfft!” I thought, hating the fact that technology thinks it knows me better than I know myself. Then I started thinking that maybe the Interwebs were onto something. We’ve talked before about the gradual disappearance of the stick shift, and there’s no denying its days are numbered. So I took it upon myself to poke around looking at assorted manual cars that 1) I’d be stupid enough to buy, and 2) wouldn’t break the bank. Enter the Alfa 164, and this solid example located in Tulsa, OK for a paltry $2,500.
There’s been a lot of chatter for a long time about the impending demise of the row-your-own manual transmission. I’m not talking about those automated manuals – with or without an actual clutch or two – with acronyms lifted from the annals of phone company documentation such as DCT, DSG, PDK, etc. No, I speak of the real, three-pedal mechanical gear changers with a friendly stick emerging from either the floor or – if you’re old – the steering column. Continue reading
As pre-driver’s licensed teenagers in the 1980s, one of the places we scratched our automotive itch, as it were, was in the video game arcade. You remember those, right? Dark, noisy rooms reeking of old popcorn, sweat, and cleaning solution with brown industrial carpeting smothered in used chewing gum and other nastiness, where the youth of our generation gathered to take our minds off of school, overbearing parents and girl (or guy) troubles. The best games would rob you of a pocket full of quarters and hours – if not days or weeks – of your life. It was heaven on Earth. These days we have the XBox, PlayStation, and Wii. The best games for Car Geeks like me were the sit-down shift-and-steer games. Pole Position taught us the basics, but Outrun was where it was at in terms of cool cars, music, and you even got a hottie in a bikini to ride along. And that was the closest I thought I’d ever come to driving a Ferrari Testarossa.
My cohort here at TTS and I occasionally discuss why we’re not wealthy. Aside from the obvious – not winning the birth lottery, dedicating our dwindling free time to blogging – we’ve decided a lot of it has to do with karma. Continue reading
I love that this car is green. Everybody and their mother (relatively speaking, of course) has a red Ferrari, and if not red then chances are it is black, silver, or white. I’m a fan of colors on my sports cars, but not necessarily the same colors as the vast majority. Give me a Ferrari in metallic blue, burgundy, or as you see here, good old british racing green. It’s even more attractive to me when that color is applied to a pedigreed sports car that I have a snowball’s chance in Hell of affording: a car like this one here on CarsforSale.com in Arlington, Texas for a bargain basement price of just $14,998.
My Dad’s 1969 Fiat 850 Spider is my oldest automotive memory. 850 spiders were also the cars that my TTS co-conspirator and I first bonded over, at the approximate ages of five and three, respectively. Suffice it to say, we both have a soft spot for Fiat 850s, especially clean, original ones like this which are essentially non-existent at this point. They were cheap when new, and most were driven hard (you sort-of had to) and left outside. Combined all that with their propensity to rust, like all Italian cars from the 1960s and 1970s, and you’ll find that nice 850s are nearly impossible to find, and the few you do find are usually out there for all the money. Find this clean survivor
on CraigsList in New York for a reasonable $5,995.