C4Rworld

    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. Th...

        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 dow...

       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 be...

             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 ...

      W hat’s it like to have kids? Well, I think the only people – aside from parents – that come close to knowing are car enthusiasts. The other day, I sold my 2000 Camaro z28 with which I had forged many wonderful memories. Just like parents who wave their son goodbye as he departs to live alone at college and continue waving until all visual contact is lost, I watched my Camaro get loaded onto the trailer and stood there with a mellow face until the diesel truck rounded the final bend in my neighborhood, pulling the Camaro with it out of sight. With slow, diligent steps, I glumly walked down my driveway and started talking to my family of how I’d miss it, and recalled my favorite memories with the car, like when I’d rip through the gears on the highway, or slide the tail out in turns with every opportunity I got. Or, how, during the 10 months of my ownership, I fixed up many things on the car, making it a much better one than what it was under the previous – I kid yo...

C ars and motorcycles, they really couldn't be any more different from one another. Apples and oranges, cats and dogs, men and women, are all things which are similarly dissimilar. So why bother and ask the question why a car enthusiast should, or would, like a motorcycle? The obvious answer for many of you would be that there are no reasons since the two are so contrasting. However, being a huge car enthusiast and also an avid motorcycle rider myself, I've come to a realization as to why I love bikes. We’re in a time where all classes of cars have been injected with steroids. A time where a grandmother’s sedan can have more power than a Ferrari of yesteryear. This has made it more and more difficult for enthusiasts to exploit the limits of their cars to have fun. If they were to, they’d either be sentenced to death for excessive speeding, or they’d instantaneously crash their cars, because the majority of drivers aren’t Ken Block. So, to tame all of those steroid-enhance...

      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...