C4Rworld

        I f at the age of 16 I were handed the keys to a Mercedes, I don’t think I would’ve become the car enthusiast I am today. There’s one word to explain why: fiddling. If I had been tossed the keys to a new Mercedes, I would have never had to fix or upgrade anything on the car, and believe it or not, it’s the highs and lows of car ownership which makes it exciting and endearing. With a new Mercedes, there would be no small repairs or upgrades necessary and the only thing I’d ever do with the car is drive it from point A to B, an overall comfortable and stress free experience, yet in the big picture, a sterile one as well.         On the other hand, the opposite scenario has to be taken into consideration too. If my first car had been a miserable hoopty with a handful of mechanical issues which I couldn’t fix myself, my initial car ownership would’ve undoubtedly left a sour taste in my mouth and left me bankrupt, and then I’d become an environmentally conscious, tree-hugging, bi

     R iding season is around the corner, hell, it’s begun, which means one thing. I’m super excited to be able to wake up, gear up, and take my bike out instead of my car, not that I hate my car or anything. It’s just that four grueling months of waiting and waiting for warmer temperatures is enough, and although I’ve gotten a few rides in here and there within that time, they’ve been forgettable and borderline dreary due to the cold.            So, what is it that I’m looking forward to the most? A lot of riders look forward to that man and machine bond, or the solidarity and isolation riding provides by disconnecting the rider from their phones and social media, simply because it’s hilariously stupid to attempt using a phone when riding. These are all things that I enjoy and value deeply about riding, but at the time of writing, the one thing I’m anticipating the most is the ability to haul ass past the 99% of cars I come across on a daily basis with a flick of the wrist, and wa

    T here are great cars out there, ones that – to normal humans – do so many things at such a high level that to them, one car can be satisfactory by having an ideal blend of practicality, luxury, and sportiness, therefore making it a nominee for the “perfect one car garage”. What might some of these cars be? Well, to be victorious, it undoubtedly needs practicality and a good blend of comfort and technology. However, for a motorhead like me and countless others out there, it needs to have the ability to produce a significant amount of driving pleasure, which usually results from a good engine, chassis, and user control experience.  Following this criteria, the first car that comes to mind is the BMW M3. It has 4-doors, an acceptably sized trunk, and the ability to hoon for days because of the small nuke packed underneath the hood. You can strap your kid down in the back seat, you and your wife in the front, and complete every single daily activity without issues. The perfect car,

        C ars. Driving. Girls. Love. Six cars and three motorcycles in five years. I did the math for you and it comes out to a change in vehicle every 6.66 months. I assume the Devil finds this amusing, because I feel like I’m possessed with some inexplicable thing which literally makes it impossible for me to commit to a car for long periods of time, and that worries me. Is this foreshadowing an inability for me to commit to anything, or anyone? No. Of course not. Cars are a soulless piece of metal which cost money and can’t talk, love, or do anything on their own. They are there to transport a driver from one place to another, whether it be quickly, luxuriously, a combination of the two, or neither. Cars cannot be compared to women, love, nor relationships. Or can they? Can the process of becoming an owner of a new car be likened to the process of going into a relationship with someone? Wait a minute…         So, one day, say I’m going down a street and all of a sudden a car ca

       I n a literal sense, yes. My lifelong dream of driving a Ferrari has been fulfilled, however, there is one substantial fly in the ointment. It wasn’t particularly the best driving experience of my life, and there’s a very good reason for this. I gave my Ferrari virginity up to a 1989 Testarossa, which, in human comparison would be the girl that you’ve looked at out of curiosity because she’s mildly attractive, but was known to have acquired a gift that keeps on giving. In other words, someone you’d rather not be with.            There wasn’t one major thing wrong with the Redhead which killed the experience for me, more so, it was a combination of almost everything being terrible. The seating position was appalling, the pedal layout so senseless that I’d imagine driving this car on a somewhat regular basis would induce scoliosis to the owner. The handling and steering feel was totally average, maybe even below it because I was fighting for lock due to the unassist

             E verything. The End.        No, but really. I love everything about the car. But that’s not the end of it. It doesn’t mean there aren’t certain things which I like more than others. For example, the steering. I love the steering. Everything from the tactual feel of the wheel itself to the feedback I get when I turn it. To me, it feels just right. It doesn’t feel artificially weighted, nor is it one-finger twirlable (yes, that’s a word starting now). I love it more than I love the engine, but it doesn’t mean the engine is bad. It took a bit of time to accept the fact that it has no low-end torque. I’ll never be able to rip through the gears like I used to in my Z28, but use the FA20 boxer engine right, and in the BRZ’s lightweight body, it’s just about acceptable. The fact that it makes all of its power right before redline is exciting. Get it above 5k rpm’s and the car pulls harder and harder until the shift point.        I also love the seats. In Limited spec