You don’t ask to drive a man’s car unless that man is in the business of selling it. But when my friend Greg asked if I wanted a turn in his brand new Subaru BRZ, the Six-star version of the most anticipated sports car of our age, I didn’t turn him down. Continue reading
When my dad was a kid, cars were more comfortable, the economy was bulling along, and gas was cheaper than milk. With the help of Ike’s new interstate system, the Greatest Generation shoveled their families into their big sedans and wagons and forged the great American road trip. America was experienced through the skylights of an Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser.
These days, cars are cramped and dark, the economy has taken a turn for the down, and gas is so expensive people actually buy Priuses. Flying can actually be cheaper, and though train travel is getting rare, it’s just as fast, much more comfortable, and can also be cheaper. But getting in your own car and striking out into the tarmac-belted distance is still the best way to see America. I got a reminder this weekend as my friend Dan and I loaded up the wagon and shot off to Breckenridge, Colorado. Continue reading
I didn’t buy an Alfa Romeo. I didn’t buy an MG. I bought a Subaru. Alfas have soul for days, MGs can handle like skis, but despite their merits, they’ve never been called bulletproof. I bought my WRX because it was. I wanted something fast and fun that wouldn’t turn me inside out with maintenance and repair. For the most part, it hasn’t. Yes, it faces the woes of any 12-year-old car with 150k on the clock. The plastics are fading, a few of the 226 horses may have escaped the stables, and the front seats have been replaced. But if I’d have known I’d eventually dump $1900 into a new rear differential, I might not have bought it. Continue reading
I could almost see the Corvair’s paint fading as it baked under the July sun in the Costco parking lot. The lunar-module foil sunshield had been draped over the driver’s seat to keep it cool, because, of course, the top was down. I felt nothing but respect for the owner, even though the rust had begun to bleed through and the badges were peeling. Because it was clear he or she drove it pretty often, and daily driven classics are, to use a technical term, awesome. Continue reading