C4Rworld

      T here's a certain amount of paranoia that I consider to be “healthy”, such as being slightly nervous when walking in the city at night and seeing a suspiciously dressed man standing in a dimly lit alley looking directly at you. Or, being fearful of falling when standing close to an edge, a thousand feet up in the mountains. However, just as there is “healthy” paranoia, there is also very “unhealthy” paranoia. For me, all of my unhealthy paranoia revolves around my car.      The worst case of this unhealthy paranoia stems from when I know – mainly from hearing or smelling – something on my car is awry, a sound or a smell that, ideally, I know shouldn't be present. This paranoia develops because the problem with my car always progresses, and it usually always leads to something expensive needing replacement. For example, my current car – a 2000 Chevy Camaro Z28 – would make a hideous clunking sound when driving over certain bumps. Any time this occurred, my face would

       Ever since the McLaren 12C and Ferrari 458 Italia made their debut a couple of years back, one word has been exhausted by virtually every automotive journalist out there. Can you guess what that word is? It's “soul”. The 12C has been accused of being a soulless and more clinical machine, often compared to clichés such as a “surgical blade”. Meanwhile, the 458 Italia has had people frothing at the mouth since day one, and journalists left in a hypnotized trance, all of them mentioning the same exact word. “Soul”. Obviously, no inanimate object can actually have a soul, so I think that in this case of two supercar comparison, the 458 satisfies the criteria of a bedroom poster car more. The beautiful Italian styling, the astonishing sound, and the lack of all around perfection. I don't think that I'm alone when I say that supercars are not supposed to be faultless machines. It's the minor imperfections, along with the sounds and styling, which trick people into t