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 oc...

       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 int...

     I  sit here typing inside of a flying plane. This is THE ultimate test for diagnosing if I really have ADHD or not. How many distractions are there? Well, there's the incessant whirr of the ginormous turbine engine which is spinning at an ungodly rpm, approximately two feet from my head. There is also the child who is sitting behind me, who, for some unknown reason, finds it necessary to press his knees into the back of my seat every thirty seconds. Oh, and there is the simple fact that I am 6'4”, sitting in the window seat of economy class, with two fellow passengers who - much to my misfortune - appear to have missed an activity called sleeping for an unknown number of days, as they have fallen fast asleep within twenty seconds of the plane taking off. So, the odds of me ever getting the opportunity to get up and stretch my legs is looking unlikely at best. I am also fairly confident in saying that the further back the passengers are hoarded into a plane,...