Jalopnik: Jalopnik Fantasy Garage

Jalopnik Fantasy Garage: What Now?

Ben Wojdyla — Tue, 13 May 2008 12:30:00 EDT

We have finally filled the Jalopnik Fantasy Garage with a set of some of the most desirable, interesting, quirky, historic and noteworthy automobiles in the history of the art. This is not to say it is the definitive list of all things both fantasy and Jalopnik. A case in point was topping off the garage two weeks ago with the 1970 Chevrolet El Camino 454SS — some considered it absolute travesty we hadn't entered it sooner, others considered the entry phoning it in. It highlights the differences of opinion we all delight in discussing. We've got some ideas of our own on how to go forward with this honing process, but we're interested to hear from you.

This garage is, after all, as much about reflecting your opinions and tastes as much as it is ours. Up until this point we've sort of been in the drivers seat, selecting and offering up cars we deemed fit for consideration, and you playing more of a passive role, submitting ideas and voting up or down on it. The shift to iterative improvement of the garage now has us thinking you, the reader, will be playing a much more active role now.

Trimming the fat in the past was an exercise in vote off. It had it's benefits and pitfalls, but it did work. It has been proposed that we begin the improvement process from a purely analytic angle, beginning with the weakest showings and working to the most successful. We like to think we may take a look at automotive segments and eras and then improve within them.

There are many different ways to identify nominees for the ax and vote them out, and nominate a replacement to fill the spot. While we have our ideas, we'd like to hear yours, since you'll be driving the ship a lot more now we want to make it work for you. We can't promise any one idea will be a winner, but a mix of a couple might do the trick. So let's have a fireside chat about just how to do this thing going forward.

Keep in mind, this is NOT a discussion to nominate cars to go on the chopping block, the improvement process will begin next week. We're just interested in figuring out just how to make it work smoothly

1970 Chevrolet El Camino 454 Super Sport

Ben Wojdyla — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 12:40:00 EDT

Though many have been entered and some have been trimmed, we have only one space left in the Jalopnik Fantasy Garage. One more bay into which we may slide any dream machine we can think of. To this point it has been a journey of discovery, history, humor, debate, outrage and delight, but still there remains only one spot. This final place has been reserved in our plans for a long time though. Despite the stereotypes held in the public eye about this car, we could choose no other to cap off this endeavor and we therefore humbly submit for your approval — the 1970 Chevrolet El Camino 454 Super Sport.

What is it about us and El Caminos? Since the early days when Davey G. gave us his musings on the car which held such a strong place in his heart, through the last few months, which have seen the scion of the El Camino debut, and countless chopped up and rebuilt cars in between, we are El aficionados. And despite the awesome spectacle that is the Porsche 928-amino and acres of El Caminos at the Woodward Dream Cruise, there is only one El Camino we can hold up as the king of the ring, a true fantasy with no peers and of course the most powerful production truck/car ever built for US shores.

The 1970 Chevrolet El Camino 454 SS is the pinnacle of Chevrolet's car based truck dynasty — but it took a long time to get there. The El Camino was initially introduced as a response to the strong selling Ford Ranchero and came out for a couple of years starting in 1959. The light pickup was initially based on the wild styling of the Chevrolet Impala, which, despite the unique and desirable nature of these early cars today, was not well received at the time. When the car was reintroduced in 1964, everything had changed. Now based on the Chevelle platform, the car was much more ready for work. Instead of flashy appendages flying everywhere, it was slab sided and lighter than the original. As styling progressed on the Chevelle through the years, so too was it mirrored in the El Camino.

Whereas styling was always up to date with the El Camino, it was left behind on power. All through its life, it saw every engine of its automotive brethren except the highest performance mill of the time. This changed in 1970. After two years of having the 396 V8 putting out a very respectable 375 HP sitting as the top of the options list, the mighty LS6 454 V8 was added. With a stated power rating of 450 HP and 500 lb/ft of torque, this legendary motor propelled the El Camino from a stop to 60 in only 6.6 seconds, it would make a quarter mile run in 13.4 seconds - remember, on 7" wide tires with a four speed manual.

Perhaps more important than the figures and the ridiculousness of this car is what it means. The 454 SS isn't a car you give to mom to drive to the grocery store. It is the simplest way to turn rubber into smoke. Hoonage personified. This is a car you get into trouble with. It's a leather-jacketed, chain-smoking, knife-wielding, hard-livin', "Screw you" to proper society. No other car makes less sense, but is so perfect at doing it.
It is the antithesis of business models based on a public bored to mediocrity by way of market research and ad campaigns touting air bags and child safety seats. Once upon a time you could go to the dealer, plunk down your hard earned scratch, fire up that 454 and hit the road, light up an unfiltered cigarette and crank out Led Zeppelin's Ramble On over the pushbutton AM/FM radio. We want the El Camino in the garage not just because it's a badass ride, but because it's a sucker punch to the flabby gut of political correctness.

photo and info sources: Muscle Car Club, Cardomain, Englewolf, cardomain

Auto Union Type C

Ben Wojdyla — Tue, 22 Apr 2008 12:00:00 EDT

The LeMans-dominating Audi R10 is an incomparable engineering spectacle. Honed from the finest materials and tested by banks of supercomputers before the first part was even crafted, the LeMans Prototype car is only now being challenged three years after its birth by an improved Porsche RS Spyder. The irony here is though these two teams battle for the same prize, they share the same grandfather, Ferdinand Porsche. Today we examine the R10's oldest and most revolutionary ancestor: the Auto Union Type C.

To tell the story of the Type C, you have to start at the Great Depression. As they were everywhere, the period was hard for Germany, and though the engineering talent of Ferdinand Porsche was well know at the time, the commissions for automobiles had simply dried up. Not one to have his ambitions squelched, Porsche joined with a group of his former associates including Adolf Rosenberger and Karl Rabe to form the Hochleistungs Motor GmbH (High Efficiency Engines company). At this point, development work on a Grand Prix-competitive engine began in earnest without a contract.

In parallel, the companies of Audi, DKW, Horch and Wanderer formed Auto Union in an effort to ride out the storm of the depression by way of leveraged finances and increased purchasing power. As all good, freshly minted European auto makers in the 30's must do, a race car was commissioned, and this one went through Porsche, who had connections to Auto Union through Wanderer. The cash to do the development is what gives these cars a special, perhaps infamous place in history. Adolf Hitler, the newly appointed Chancellor of Germany, had commissioned Mercedes Benz to build a car to dominate racing and had provided 500,000 Reichmarks to do it. After convincing Hitler of the benefit of two entries from Germany, the chancellor split the pot and 250k RM went to each team.

At the time, the front engine, rear-driver layout was considered the state of the art, but flush with funds, Porsche's team set to work bringing the drawings of a low, mid-engined, wundercar to life — and the design would be called the Auto Union Type C. By placing the engine at the rear, fuel tank in the center, and the driver in the front, concessions for the drive shaft and transmission tunnel were no longer necessary. And oh, that engine, a twin-block, 6 liter, 45 degree bank, 32 valve V16, was force fed air through a Roots supercharger and developed 520 HP in its final form. With the uneven 40/60 front to rear weight distribution and the massive power available, the car tended to oversteer and it was difficult for drivers used to a rear seating position to determine the limits of adhesion. Before the advent of the ZF limited slip differential, the car was known to produce wheel spin at speeds as high as 150 MPH.

The front and rear suspensions were considered state of the art at the time. The driver sat over a split axle and torsion bar setup in the front while the rear was managed with a double wishbone and transverse leaf spring suspension. The body stretched over this mechanical symphony was carefully crafted in the German Institute for Aerodynamics and provided both efficient cooling and enviable aerodynamic effect. When completely developed, the 1,618 lb. car was capable of 211 MPH flat out.

Drivers of this infamous car read like a who's who of early Grand Prix driving — Hans Stuck, Ernst von Delius, Achille Varzi and of course Bernt Rosemeyer. It was Rosemeyer who mastered the chassis and drove these cars into legend, securing six victories of twelve races in the 1936 season. The wins lead to Auto Union securing the builders title, and Rosemeyer being awarded the European Champion title. Over the next two years he would win another eight races outright and lose to Mercedes in 1938 only after they tied in race wins, but lost in laps led to the newly developed W125.

The Auto Union Type C, as well its competitor the Mercedes Benz W125, represent a pinnacle of engineering achievement not seen again until the turbocharged racers of the 1980s.The Type C was the exact car that started the racing revolution, the shift which was necessary to go faster and lighter. The move to mid engine racing was ultimately inevitable, but the confluence of history, engineering passion, staggering performance, and intimidating design captures the imagination. It also demands a place in the Jalopnik Fantasy Garage.

Sources: Classics, Wikipedia, DDavid.com, The Supercars, Youtube

Morgan Aero 8

Ben Wojdyla — Wed, 16 Apr 2008 13:20:00 EDT

Perhaps now you understand the troubles we go through to select the lineup of the first 50 cars to fill the stalls of the Jalopnik Fantasy Garage. We presented to you theCaparo T1, warts and all, for consideration of the garage without the benefit of flowery prose or over the top hyperbole — the car itself is hyperbole enough. We wanted to see how a game-changing supercar would stand up to the harsh scrutiny of an unsoftened voting block because frankly, we're tired of everything getting in so easily. This is about whittling things down to a sharpened point, debating the merits and pitfalls of some of the greatest mechanical symphonies ever built, this should be a knock down drag out fight to get into the garage — that is unless we're talking about the Morgan Aero 8.

Morgan is one of those companies you have to love. For all practical purposes they are the last of a dying breed, a company which weighs profit motive and passion on equal terms — craftsman as well as enthusiasts. When the whole world went crazy and abandoned everything traditional, Morgan soldiered on, producing their delightful, ash framed Morgan Plus 8, a legendary car in its own right, lauded for its lively handling and hairy knuckled driving personality. But while half-century old designs are quaint and draw a certain customer, everyone gets the urge to brave new paths, and Morgan set out to remake its image with the Aero 8.

The story of the Aero 8 is very much a story of traditionalists finding new ways, getting out of their baked in mindset and reconsidering what they could do with what they know how to do. Much like every other car company started doing two decades ago, Morgan began using computers. Not only did they use computers, but they did it well. The frame would be constructed of bonded and riveted aluminum extrusions mated with kiln dried Belgian ash, and covered in an aluminum skin. As long time engine supplier Rover fell into a death rattle, a new engine was needed for this much higher performance car. There is a blind quote attributed to a BMW engineer who, upon seeing the prototype for the first time, remarked "At last, here's a car worthy of my engine" and so it was. The heart of the Aero 8 is a BMW supplied 4.4L V8 which develops a stout 325 HP, and considering the car weighs in at 2500 lbs. the power is positively stupendous. That power is harnessed by a suspension which resembles a racing car more than a road car, it is fully independent with inboard mounted springs and dampers all around.

We could go on about how this car goes round the track fast enough to beat most others at or above its price range, how it bites on corners like a teething pit bull puppy, or how the interior is swaddled in cow and machine-turned steel... but that's not the 800 lb gorilla in the room now is it? All of those things are certainly reason for admiration, but the glaring fact is the glaring fact - its eyes were crossed. One would think the British motoring press would have been swinging from the chandeliers when the new car debuted at the 2000 Geneva Motor Show, but they raked it over the coals. London's Daily Telegraph called it "stupendously ugly". We couldn't agree and disagree more. The Aero 8 is ugly, but ugly badass — it wears its sheet metal with a certain braggadocio only a stupendously ugly car with stupendously amazing heritage and stupendously impressive performance can. The world is a boring place when everything looks like a Porsche or a Ferrari. Drive one of these and you know you're not following the crowd. Not only does this car fly in the face of the modern styling aesthetic, it quashes notions of what a sports car should be.

The Morgan Aero 8 is a modern interpretation of all that is good an pure about motoring. It is a fourteen foot long testament to the idea that cars do not have to make sense or be beautiful to be spectacular. A velvet hammer designed on its own terms, without bothering to glance at those who would claim to be its competition. The Aero 8 is the only car you can still buy new which makes us want to wear driving goggles when the top is down, and for that we want it in our fantasy garage.

sources: USAAutoparts, Morgan Cars; photo credit to chimpaction

JFG Postponed, Too Much SAE

Ben Wojdyla — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 12:29:00 EDT

Sorry kids, we knew you were looking to unleash the fire of a thousand suns on our latest selection for JFG and then vote it in anyway, but we're working our way through the scrum of the 2008 SAE World Congress to chat up the bigs and try to figure out if there's any news going on. Tune in tomorrow and we'll have the latest garage contestant ready for you to vote on. In the meantime, check out a garage built for fantasy-land.
Image from Faildogs

Caparo T1

Ben Wojdyla — Tue, 08 Apr 2008 12:30:00 EDT

The question we continually circle around when examining this idea of a fantasy garage is 'What makes a fantasy car?' There are so many variables to consider; from the emotional impact, historical relevance, lusty body work, enviable performance, and so on, and so on. Certainly it is easy to rattle off a list of cars which blow the mind and bust the pocketbook, but developing a balanced palette of cars is no simple undertaking. You could easily fill warehouses full of dream cars slathered in history from the pre-war era and call it a day, but that's boring. Sometimes a car with absolutely no history, or even a bad history is just as outstanding. A car like the Caparo T1.

It's almost pathologically rational that the Caparo T1 would spring from the same minds as those who developed the McLaren F1. A fantasy car to end all fantasy cars, it was posted on every middle school boys wall and lusted after in the glossy pages of the buff mags. For all its design and technical innovation though, the F1 was still a compromise. Sure it had a BMW V12 and exotic bodywork to match its unparalleled performance, but what if you peeled away that which was not necessary — distilled the car down to the essence of speed?

This was the challenge Caparo's engineers presented themselves with. Beginning with an all carbon fiber race car-inspired monocoque, ex-McLaren engineers Ben Scott-Geddes and Graham Halstead led their team to build the T1 with parts which are nearly all adapted from their race form. The engine is based on a design raced at Indy; a 3.5L V8 which revs to a heady 10,500 rpm. The 575 HP mill is mated to a pneumatically actuated, carbon fiber and magnesium transmission. The transmission design alone speaks volumes for the kind of extreme level of no-compromise engineering which doesn't come from run of the mill Joes looking to cobble a car together, these are purists. Race car builders. The car even goes so far as to have swappable aero packages capable of customizing the performance for high speed, short, and long track racing.

With a production weight of only 1025 lbs, the Caparo T1 embarrasses every other car on the road with its deft use of composites. You have to start talking about F1 cars to even be in the same league. In his review of the Caparo, Top Gear's Jeremy Clarkson points out the T1 has twice the power-to-weight ratio as the mighty Bugatti Veyron — twice! This isn't so much a car as a fighter jet missing its wings. Zero to sixty takes a mere 2.5 seconds. Zero to a hundred only 5 seconds. The car is capable of 2.5Gs at maximum aerodynamic effect. Of course, below the high speeds necessary to develop those forces, the huge power and light weight combine to create a car that is a handful — and rightfully so. If you were paying $350,000 for the ultimate road car, it better be fast as hell and punish you when you misstep. Its nice to see a product with enough swagger that it's unwilling to use electronic nannies to protect someone who's driving beyond their abilities.

And thus we circle back around to this idea of 'What is a fantasy car?' If one fantasy is complete, unfettered performance, it's hard to imagine any road car ever exceeding the capabilities of the T1. If a fantasy car is one which is inspired and in turn inspires others, again, it is hard to think of a purer form or vision. If you were to ask what car will be looked at in retrospect as the primary influence for the next generation of supercars, we're willing to bet the Caparo T1 would be it. In form and function, brutality and performance it has no peers, and that is why it is a fantasy car.

sources RSportscar, Caparo, AllCarReview

The Last Duesenberg

Ben Wojdyla — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 12:30:00 EDT

One can barely wrap the mind around the concept of the last of any marque. Is there somewhere squirreled away the final DeSoto, the final Austin? Did anyone care to keep them around in carefully managed condition, warding off the meddling hands of restorers — and if they did, does the story of the final car cast a shadow of awesome grandeur fit to honor its makers history? There are likely many automobiles which represent the final stroke of the transfer presses, the last report of an impact hammer, the final time the lights were turned on over the smooth, ordered assembly floor. But we doubt any of them have a story to match the 1937 Duesenberg Model SJ, number 397, the last Duesenberg.

Fate is a funny thing sometimes. It has a certain sense of humor not witnessed often, and it can twist a storyline to the point of impossibility. Such is the story of SJ-397. Both Rudolf Bauer and the Duesenberg brothers were likely not aware of each other as they rose from obscurity by force of will and creativity to the heights of wealth and privilege, then saw it all slip away through forces outside their control.

Duesenberg began as most early automakers did, a racing habit which turned into a car-building business. German born brothers Fred and August Duesenberg incorporated the Duesenberg Automobile & Motors Company in 1913 and proceeded to build some of the most advanced vehicles of the time. Their cars were well known as Indianapolis 500 race winners, and the first from American shores to win at Le Mans. After great success in racing, the brothers set out to take on the mass market with their Model A. And it was that choice which began the series of events ultimately leading to ruin as the Model A was a terrible failure in the face of the competition from Ford, selling only 667 copies. In 1922, Duesenberg was bankrupt.

Rudolf Bauer was perhaps one of the most influential abstract artists of the prewar German landscape. Something of a savant, Bauer began painting at an early age and won a place in the emerging German avant-garde scene. It was in this movement where he met Baroness Hilla Rebay von Ehrenweisen, daughter of a Prussian Army aristocrat. Their tumultuous relationship would end when Rebay left to act as art director for Solomon Guggenheim, yes that Guggenheim. Bauer was brooding and arrogant, and painted in an unreflective, empirical style — a style which with the prodding of Rebay, caught the eye and the patronage of Guggenheim. Selling every piece he could complete now that he had an attentive audience, Bauers fame grew with European and American collectors, and so did his wealth. He spent extravagantly on everything from his home to his cars. As the cultural curtain of Nazism descended across Germany, oblivious to the danger he was in, Rudolf decided to commission his greatest work.

After descending into receivership, the Duesenberg name would not be lost to oblivion just yet. Fred Duesenberg, along with a consortium of investors, rescued the company from its creditors. He then brokered a deal in 1925 with Erritt Cord, who purchased Duesenberg in hopes of using its engineering prowess to be operated as a premium brand under the Auburn Automobile Company. The following year the Duesenberg brand introduced the Model J at the New York Car Show. A chassis of leviathan-like proportions, it was a technological tour de force. Measuring in with a nearly 12 foot wheel base and weighing a ton and half on its own, the frame cradled a 420 cubic inch inline eight with aluminum pistons and connection rods, four valves per cylinder and dual overhead cam shafts riding in a detachable cylinder head. In standard form the the engine was capable of 265 HP — so powerful the originally planned four speed was replaced with an unsynchronized three speed. The chassis itself was equipped with a system which automatically lubricated all service points using engine oil pressure. In 1932, a centrifugal supercharger, stronger valve springs and tubular steel connection rods were added, boosting power to an intoxicating 320 HP — nearly triple the output of it's nearest competitor, the 115 HP Pierce Arrow. The new chassis was dubbed the Model SJ, and boasted many feats, chief among them was a breathtaking top speed of a claimed 135 miles per hour.

But the times, they were a-changin'. The Great Depression was souring coffers across the country, competition from international rivals was intense, development money was more urgently needed in the Auburn and Cord divisions and as a result the Duesenberg Motors Company withered on the vine. In addition to funding shortages, Duesenberg suffered a terrible loss when brother Fred died in an automobile accident. His engineering capabilities were necessary to replace the unsynchronized three speed transmission previously installed to harness the power of the mighty engine. In its current form the car was difficult to drive in comparison to the competition. As Erritt Cord's empire collapsed under the weight of economic pressure, there was no choice but to shut down the Indianapolis production line in 1937, forever silencing the original grandeur of the marque — but not before one final sale.

Rudolf Bauer arrived in America in 1937 with the hope of securing a copy of the finest automobile chassis in the world, a Duesenberg SJ. Bauer had drawn up plans with the German coach builder Erdmann & Rossi to build the longest automobile ever to grace German roadways. As Rudolf arrived in Auburn, Indiana to place his order, the Indianapolis plant was beginning the shut down process. In spite of this, under the watchful eye of August, workers gathered the remaining parts to assemble one final car, SJ-376.

Word of Bauer's transaction as well as his purchases of US currency made their way back to Germany, and upon arrival home, Rudolf was seized by the Nazis as a pro-western sympathizer and thrown into prison. When news of Bauer's imprisonment made its way across the Atlantic, the shipment of the Duesy to Germany was put on hold. In New York, work was already beginning to free Bauer. Rebay petitioned Guggenheim to use his resources to free Bauer, and in 1939, Rebay was able to secure Bauers release with the assistance of a briefcase full of cash.

Here the plot thickens. Upon their return to the United States, Rebay persuaded Bauer to sign into an agreement which would pay back the cash exchanged for his release. He would receive a mansion on the New Jersey shore, and hold the phone, endow the Guggenheim foundation with the interest from his trust fund - not only that but all of his future works would go directly to the Guggenheim. Bauer was furious when he found out what had happened (he spoke little or no English, he had made the cardinal mistake of trusting a former lover). With that in mind, he gave a big 'eff you' to the contractual scoundrels and never painted again, but that doesn't mean there wasn't plenty of room for car building.

Rudolf contracted the services of Rollson and Creteur, the finest design and fabrication house in the United States at the time, perhaps even the world. He delivered to them a series of three detailed concept sketches and a list of requirements. In the spring of 1940, Bauer took delivery of his Duesenberg.

Bucking trends of the era, the design emphasizes, rather than downplays is massive heft. There are no pontoon fenders leading to running boards, indeed the car features cycle fenders and is completely without running boards. Both original white-wall spare tires rest in the back, helping to bring the total length to twenty feet and six inches. To this day it wears an unretouched original coat of black paint, with a quirky purple interior which makes it somehow more appropriate than a staid black or brown. The war-time fuel ration stickers still reside on the window and the original luggage still lives in the trunk. The car only has 9,884 original miles on its very capable mechanicals — it practically still has that new car smell.

Every automaker is a distillation of the driving force of men with a will to power. Whether the endeavor began in a garage or a boardroom, visionaries always emerge to push towards a passion for perfection. The Duesenberg Model SJ, number 397 embodies the passions of so many visionaries that is nearly transcends the art of the automobile. It stands as a testament to what can be done when the forces of brilliance and vengeance converge — a $2.8 million dollar Nietzschean metaphor.

Sources: RM Auctions, Duesenberg Wiki, Ultimate Car Pages, New York Times, Sports Car Market]

Hot Hatch Showdown

Ben Wojdyla — Tue, 25 Mar 2008 13:00:00 EDT

With auto show season officially, mercilessly and thankfully over, the Jalopnik Fantasy Garage stands to be full in just six weeks. A short time by any standard, but especially so when distilling over a hundred years of automotive excellence into just 50 vehicles. Two weeks ago saw the induction of the Cadillac Eldorado Brougham, a car so finely crafted only a communist would disapprove. In this week's edition, we switch gears entirely. Compact, lightweight automobile construction, responsive suspension, spicy engine and a slick manual transmission. It's a simple formula which, if done properly, not only results in a car with character, but one which transcends the bottom-of-the-barrel genre and becomes something of legend, something which can ascend to the level of fantasy. This week, we examine the hot hatch.

Here's the deal, it's going to be a knock down, drag out fight with no elimination rounds, no brackets, no BS — a winner takes all match up between four of the most remarkable hot hatches ever to be tossed around a corner with glee. And in this fight, we'll let age go before beauty.

1963 Mini Cooper S
Arguably the very first hot hatch, despite its lack of said hatch, the Mini itself was a revolutionary leap forward in car design for post-war Britain. When notable F1 race car designer John Cooper approached the legendary designer of the Mini about a higher performance edition, Alec Issigonis thought the idea unacceptable, this was a working mans car after all, not a race car. Undaunted, Cooper went above his head and received the blessing of BMC directly for the project. 1961 saw the first high performance Mini Cooper but it grew into its skin in 1963 when a 1071cc short-stroke, four-cylinder replaced the long-stroke 997cc engine. The '63 Mini Cooper S was a fantastic performer with up to 70 HP from the tiny engine. To say the handling of the Mini Cooper S is the stuff of legend is something of an understatement - how many other compact cars can claim David-versus-Goliath-like wins at Monte Carlo over cars many times its size and power?

1976 Volkswagen Golf GTI
The Mk1 Golf GTI is spoken about in hushed tones and with quiet reverence among fans of the econobox-turned-road-racer. The GTi was a breath of fresh air in a stagnant, malaise-mandated European market. The Golf was a handsome design to begin with, penned in the workshops of Guigiaro, and sporting a 1.5L four cylinder, the GTI got interesting upgrades that took it from everyman transporter to corner carving joy buzzer. Chief among the upgrades was one of the first entry market applications of fuel injection, wider track and tires, uprated anti-roll bars and stiffer springs, along with that famous red-rimmed grille. The Golf was rebadged as the Rabbit and produced in Pennsylvania for the 1978 model year, making it the first domestically produced European car in history. A GTI version followed for the US market in 1983. Though there aren't any Monte Carlo wins under its belt, few cars did as much to beat back the 'car as appliance' mindset which pervaded the '80s era auto industry, and the hot hatch survives today in large part due to it's existence.

1986 Dodge Omni GLH-S
Though Carroll Shelby is better known for his involvement in cars like the Cobra 427, Daytona, and Mustang, it's nut job projects like the GLHS that should really be putting him into the Automotive Hall of Fame. The 1985 Dodge Omni GLH was a bonkers car to begin with, starting with the turbo-four out of the Shelby Charger, but Carroll took the last 500 of the Omni GLH and added some more. Goes Like Hell - Somemore, a name only a speed crazed Texan could come up with, was apt. The already potent, for '85, Chrysler turbo 2.2L four was upgraded with an intercooler, prototype fuel rail and remapped fuel delivery curve and delivered 175 HP and 174 lb/ft of torque. The suspension gained Koni adjustable shocks up front and coilovers in the rear, and some sticky tires on custom wheels. Our favorite modification is a sticker on the speedometer hailing the possibility of 135 mph - it just has such a smirk inducing quality to it. All that added together to produce a real street burner. The GLH-S would do 0-60 in 6.5 ticks and run up to 130 mph. It takes a certain kind of mad man to make a Simca designed econobox run with a Corvette.

2003 Renault Clio V6
Not many cars can make the claim to fame of being one of the ten Jeremy Clarkson would place in his personal fantasy garage. The Renault Clio V6 Renault Sport is an example of what happens when madness reaches its inevitable end. Yes, the DS is a beautiful automotive achievement and the CS has a nearly magical suspension, but this Renault may be the most impressive example ever of the French passion for the automobile. For those who have never seen a Clio in person, it is not a large or imposing car, not by any stretch of the imagination. Somewhere the bean counters fell asleep and the batshit crazy idea of dropping a V6 into the back seat of an econo-car slipped by, and the world is a better place for it. The 255 HP naturally aspirated V6 from a Renault Laguna motivates the Clio from just behind the drivers seat and spills its beautiful music into the open air. 0-60 comes in a quick 5.6 seconds and the car tops out at 153 MPH. Bonkers. Sure it loses pretty much all of its utility as a hatchback, the turning circle is atrocious, it's expensive, and it gulps fuel, but the insanity excuses all of that.

So there you have it, four cars from four decades, each with its own character and achievements. However, there can be only one. We know there will be rants over cars not included in this poll as the hot hatch has been a stalwart of automotive affection for a long time, but these are the four today. So what will it be? The British bulldog, the sharp steering German, a bold and brash American, or proof of France's sporting chops? Have at it folks.

Image sources here, here, here, and here.

Cadillac Eldorado Brougham

Ben Wojdyla — Tue, 11 Mar 2008 12:40:00 EDT

Well, you've done it again - voted into the Jalopnik Fantasy Garage another glass-and-steel piece of history which some, but not all, agree would make for a great addition: the Lotus Eleven. Last week saw no progress towards filling the garage due to Geneva Motor Show shenanigans, but that just gave us some extra time to think about what to offer up this week. Sometimes it's hard to be objective when selecting nominees, this week's pick is a personal favorite from a bygone era of high rollers, big egos, and uncompromising style - the Cadillac Eldorado Brougham.

In the postwar era, Cadillac was a dominant force in the world of luxury automobile, outpacing its previous rival, Packard, with styling innovations such as the famous tail fins, as well as myriad luxury options. Cadillac in the 1950s proudly proclaimed its "Standard of the World" slogan. In order to truly own that idea though, Cadillac needed to build something with unsurpassed luxury, besting even its peers from across the pond.

Originally shown as a concept at the 1955 L.A. Auto Show, the Cadillac Eldorado Brougham was put into production in 1957 and was at the time the pinnacle of luxury and innovation. It featured numerous options, some of which are still not available today. The engine was a 365 cubic-inch V8, breathing though twin four-barrel carburetors and running through a 4-speed automatic transmission. The body was long, low and extravagant, with a pillarless four-door design and the rear doors opening suicide style (and you know how much we love suicide doors). At the behest of GM styling guru Harley Earl, the car recived a slick stainless-steel roof and road-adjusting quad headlights for better illumination. The suspension was as advanced as anything GM had in it's arsenal at the time: a centrally controlled, self-leveling and auto-adjusting air suspension which provided an uncompromisingly smooth ride.

Where the Caddy really shimmered was in the amenities. Independent of each other, they seem underwhelming, but that all of the features lived in one car in 1957 is incredible. On the inside, drivers were greeted with power seats that included memory settings, remote-adjustable side mirrors and an auto-adjusting rear-view mirror, an all-transistor automatic-station-seeking radio with twin speakers, all-electric windows, a power locking system, and a power open AND close trunk lid. Now that's just the normal stuff. Here's where things get crazy. The designers also saw fit to throw in a stainless steel drinking set for the glove box, a cigarette dispenser, various vanity elements for the ladies, and a perfume dispenser filled with Arpege Extrait de Lanvin perfume. Say what?!

Of course, anything can be built when money is not option, and here's where the Eldorado Brougham took no prisoners. The base retail price in 1957 was $13,074, exceeding even the most pricey Rolls of the time. Toss that number into the Federal Reserve consumer price index calculator and that tally in 2008 dollars rings the bell at $100,311. Only the Cadillac XLR-V has ever commanded a sum so high, and that Caddy merely goes fast and has a lovely Eucalyptus wood interior. The Brougham was offered for only two years; total production of the princely luxo-yachts was 704 vehicles. After the initial run, production was farmed out to Pininfarina, where a redesign was executed, but the quality in craftsmanship just wasn't the same.

The '57 Eldorado Brougham was probably the finest post-war Cadillac produced to date. Peerless in its design and attention to detail, it was the pinnacle of what an American boulevardier could ever be. Smooth, technically savvy, staggeringly handsome and cranking out as much power as the average Eisenhower Era captain of industry would ever need. It's not difficult to imagine driving this car on a lazy, cross-country summer roadtrip, dusk creeping across the sky, the calm glow of an old dashboard and a crackly radio serving as background noise. Not all of the best driving is done at the limit of grip. [image credits to Eldorado Brougham]

Lotus Eleven

Ben Wojdyla — Tue, 26 Feb 2008 12:00:00 EST

Though there was much gnashing of teeth over the Land Rover Defender last week, the British stalwart marched triumphant into the Jalopnik Fantasy Garage, with a convincing 82.8%. We now have 43 slots down and a mere seven left to fill. Things are beginning to get tight, so let's move on to something better able to fit in the tiny and uncomfortable spaces we've got left. With a wind-sculpted shape and dominating track record, purity of concept and unwavering devotion to engineering, this week's long-awaited entry proves that might does not always make right. Indeed, sometimes the victor is he who carries the lightest burden.

The Lotus Eleven is a special kind of racing automobile, just as Lotus and its founding father are unique icons. Anthony Colin Bruce Chapman was an early visionary in the racing world; he developed a series of design philosophies particularly adaptable to the sport. Chapman is famous for his notion of "adding lightness" as a primary means of improving performance. But he also developed a means by which each of a vehicle's parts could serve two or more functions—with no more mass than absolutely necessary to do the job. Lotus cars were designed not with just with passion, but with hard, applied science.

The Lotus Eleven Series 1 was designed to be a success. The previous 8, 9, and 10 models had been based on the first car built under incorporation, the Lotus 6. A new design was developed for the 1956 racing season. True to form and philosophy, the lightness of the overall design was astonishing. The bare tube frame tipped the scales at an astonishing 65 lbs. The space frame was augmented with a hand- formed, stressed-aluminum body designed by in-house aerodynamicist Frank Costin.

For the top of the line LeMans racing model, the well-developed De Dion rear suspension was adapted for work in the Eleven; a lightweight swing-axle design used in the front. The Coventry Climax engine came in sizes ranging from 750cc's to 1098cc's and was tuned to produce up to 100 hp at 7000 rpm. Coupled with a final weight just over 1000 lbs, the Eleven possessed and enviable power to weight ratio. The Club was targeted at amateur racers and substituted a live axle from an Austin, as well as drum brakes all around. The least expensive Sport was effectively the Club model, equipped with an inexpensive and reliable Ford 10 engine producing 36 hp.

These diminutive racers were far and away a success for Lotus, with production exceeding any previous model (the total run was 270 cars). It was said that if you wanted to win on the track, you had to drive a Lotus. Perhaps more important than the commercial success was the incredible racing success the Eleven had. During its first racing season in 1956, the Eleven could boast no less than 148 track victories. Stirling Moss piloted a model specially equipped for high speed to a Monza victory, setting a new lap-record speed average of 135 mph, with a top lap speed of 143 mph. The 24 hours of LeMans saw Lotus snare victory in the 1100cc class, with a seventh place overall finish. Consider that last one for a second: a car possessing a mere 1100cc running only 27 laps behind the legendary Jaguar D-Type with over three times the displacement. Astounding.

For virtue in the field of design, and for pointing the way for future race, we recognize the Lotus Eleven as a shining example of all that engineering can and should accomplish. Here, Chapman and his engineers developed novel solutions to complicated problems, simplified design to the point of obviousness, and still pushed toward the state of the art. Where others saw the need for more power, Lotus saw the need for less of everything else.

Land Rover Defender

Ben Wojdyla — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 12:00:00 EST

Last week saw a heated debate over the entry of the 1925 Rolls-Royce Phantom 1 Jonckheere Coupe. Was it beautiful or a mockery, art or excess, folly or fantastic? According to the votes, 80.3% of you believed it a worthy entrant, so those questions have an answer. Now we switch gears entirely, from a tribute to form to a celebration of unquestionable function. In modern history, Land Rover has been nothing if not there to see things happen. It is said that a Land Rover is the only vehicle some people will ever see. Beginning in post-war Britain in 1946, an unbroken chain of workhorse machines has performed the duties set forth by their owners, never rusting, rarely failing. That progression has left us with a paragon of uncomplaining, uncomplicated virtue: the Land Rover Defender.

To tell the story of the Defender, you must tell the story of the Land Rover Series vehicles. Conceived during and after World War II, at a time when steel and other materials were strictly rationed in the war and rebuilding effort, the Land Rover was a crude but essential machine. Its original inspiration was the military Jeep, but it was reborn as something of a do-it-all — a vehicle which could be used in the bombed out countryside, provide agricultural power by way of its front and rear power take offs, carry the family and haul heavy loads. It was constructed of plentiful aircraft aluminum in a specially alloyed mix and designed to be assembled entirely with hand tools, if necessary. It remains so today.

As the years progressed, the Land Rover series vehicles saw steady improvements to the powertrain, suspension, transfer cases and ergonomics, but they remained true to their root mission: They were basic, blissfully basic. This simplicity gave rise to a devoted following. In fact, a maniacal following. Ease of maintenance, interchangeable parts spanning up to four decades, legendary durability—it all fueled desire and fed demand.

And that leads us to 1983. With the Series III getting long in the tooth, Land Rover updated the vehicle with several important improvements. The suspension was upgraded with a more modern coil-spring design, the two piece windshield was swapped out for a single pane, crank side windows replaced sliders, and a new set of more powerful, but still incredibly durable, engines were dropped under the hood. The interior was updated to provide creature comforts that brought the truck out of the stone age (the austere old guard harumphed, but those with battered buttcheeks rejoiced). The true brilliance of the Defender, however, shone through in its flexibility. Available in three different wheelbases, each designed and equipped for different duties. The 90 was the two-door model and featured a 93" wheelbase; it was targeted at civilian and agricultural use. The 110 was the four-door wagon with room for up to nine, due to the side-mounted seats (which hung around until the 2007 refresh). The 127, which was later renamed the 130, was designed for heavy applications, outfitted with the largest engine, a four-door cab and a short pickup box. The 127 quickly became the vehicle of choice for militaries all over the world.

Enough history, let's get down to brass tacks. The Land Rover Defender represents all that is good and pure in the motoring world. It is form following function to the truest of standards. By all accounts—and if you've ever driven in one you'll agree—the Defender is not a vehicle to be taken lightly. Not for the meek, it's a brutal on the road, requiring heroic steering input, delivering frightening understeer and body roll that rivals the worst of the 1940s, and serving up wind and road noise that can charitably described as deafening. But that same terrible on-road truck is a master of it's domain when the road ends, at low speed and hundreds of miles from the beaten path. Here, in the muck and mire, Defender is a champion. And that's the point. This is a vehicle with a singular purpose: To get you to where you're going, no matter where that might be.

A vehicle that serves its purpose without excuses, indifferent to modern tastes, a monument to all the explorers who blazed their own trail across uncharted vistas in bygone days. The Land Rover Defender speaks to our lizard brain in ways which make us want to damn this digital existence and get lost in a wilderness, reconnecting with the curiosities that make life interesting. It is not a polished and perfect, technology-toting wunderkind, and that's why we love it. The Defender reminds us of the reason why men strike out on their own, in defiance of rationality, to find their own way, and that's why we want it in our fantasy garage.

1925 Rolls-Royce Phantom 1 Jonckheere Coupe

Ben Wojdyla — Tue, 12 Feb 2008 12:30:00 EST

And then there were ten. With a completely expected shoo-in for JFG like the Porsche 959, the margin of acceptance standing at 95.1% is no surprise. Impressive yes, but still bested by the McLaren F1 and the Mercedes 300SL, though we suppose that to be good company to keep. Today's offering is far less well known, with a far murkier history, and much, much more beautiful coachwork. What the bloodlines of the recently axed Rolls Royce Phantom cannot offer is everything this car represents. Complete and utter disregard for cost, opinion, standard, and precedence. This automobile set a benchmark we doubt will ever be reached again in within our lifetimes; the 1925 Rolls-Royce Phantom 1 Jonckheere Coupe.

With this car, it's easy to draw comparison to Aristotle's model of the tragic hero. The tragic flaws are not in its character but in its history. It is not for lack of greatness but for the existence of those flaws that this car will never win the Concourse d'elegances. That, among many reasons, is why we offer it a place in our garage, with no questions as to its veracity.

Such glorious things rarely start life in such a perfected state, and thus is true for this Phantom. The 1925 Phantom 1 was originally bodied and sold as a Hooper Cabriolet to one Mrs. Hugh Dillman of Detroit, MI. Amusingly enough, it seems the car never left England before it again changed hands and was purchased by the Raja of Nanpara. It was at this point that the Rolls discovered its true fate at the hand of the Belgian coach builder Jonckheere Carrossiers. The car was rebodied in the entirely fabulous hand crafted aero-coupe livery you see today. The work won many awards, including its first concourse entry in le Prix de Cannes, where it won top honors. The details of this car go on for miles and we'll take time to point out only a few highlights.

The automobile was fitted with a six cylinder, 7.66L OHV inline six engine and a four speed manual transmission. The body was completely hand fabricated to include round doors, split-opening half-moon windows, twin sunroofs, bespoke luggage and a stabilizing fin at the rear. All told, the luxurious automobile was quiet enough to hold a conversation at speed and would easily travel at 100 mph.

As with all stories in this form, tragedy strikes early in the tale. Though vast sums had be spent on the car, it changed hands repeatedly within the 1940s and 1950s. It was eventually purchased by an American, Max Obie, when in near-derelict condition. He covered it with over six pounds of gold dust paint and used it as a traveling sideshow; any schmoe with a dollar could pay to marvel at its bastardized glory. And then it was lost to time.

In 1991, the car again emerged from its historical haze by way of international auto auction. The Phantom 1 Jonckheere Coupe was purchase by a private Japanese collector and stashed away for time to pass it by yet again. Here is where the story both diverges and follows the model of tragedy. Instead of descending into obscurity, the Petersen Museum convinced the collector to relinquish ownership and it became ward of the institution. It was promptly restored to is original glory and shown in the 2005 Concourse D'Elegance, where the final tragedy occurred. Because of the lack of provenance, the fates (and the judging committee) would not allow a best in class to be bestowed upon this lustrous wonder. The best it would do is the Lucius Beebe Trophy, awarded to the finest Rolls entered into the show.

With all that, we'll lay the choice with you. Whether tis nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fate, and in doing so rank among the members of Jalopnik Fantasy Garage, or failing that, be cast off into the abyss yet again.

Porsche 959

Ben Wojdyla — Fri, 01 Feb 2008 12:32:00 EST

First production Porsche to top 300 kilometers per hour. On its own, a rather impressive standard to bear, but coupled to the tectonic shift in technology necessary to reach that milestone, the Porsche 959 stands as a true engineering masterpiece. The mythic beast that dominated many a boyhood bedroom poster wall came into being during a strange time in Zuffenhausen. Things were bleak for Porsche's traditional rear engine layout—the 924 and 944 were chipping away at the paradigm—and many wondered quietly how much longer the 911 would remain relevant.

When the 959 went into production in 1986, Car and Driver said "The 959 can accomplish almost any automotive mission so well that to call it perfect is the mildest of overstatements." When compared to the development cycle of other supercars of this class, the 959 is unique. How many Lamborghinis have you seen running in the Group B class of the Paris to Dakar Rally? The story of the 959 began in 1981, when Porsche bosses met to work out a long-term strategy for their sports cars. the 911 had stagnated, crushed under the twin pressures of the Clean Air Act and outmoded technology (nearly as old as Porsche itself). Investment in the future was necessary for survival. What better way to do than through racing? No area of development would be off limits: an all new all-wheel drive system, sequential turbocharging, kevlar body construction. You name it. The 959 would redefine what what it meant to be a Porsche. When the car was introduced at the 1983 Frankfurt Motor Show, the Porsche Gruppe B was an instant super star. Call it the unveil heard round the world. The gauntlet had been defiantly thrown down. In the following year, Porsche's entry into the new Group B class in for experimental factory cars set our young hearts aflutter. The result was no less amazing then the car itself. The rally racing form of the Gruppe B, the 961—with modifications to the damping system, aerodynamics, and all wheel drive bias—finished in top spots in the 1984 and 1986 runnings of the Paris-Dakar. To accommodate the homologation rules, the 959 was introduced to an eager and affluent public. Technological marvels the likes of which the roadgoing public had never seen were packed into its $225,000 package. The car shared a wheelbase with the Porsche 911, but that's about all. The engine was a short stroke, 2.85L flat six. Very similar in design to the FIA engine developed for the 935, the body of the engine remained air cooled, but the heads gained a water cooling system. The turbo system was designed with a sequential setup, with one turbo operating below 4000rpm and the second introducing additional thrust until redline. The driveline was Porsche's first foray into all-wheel drive and was the harbinger for all Carrera systems to follow. Computer or manual adjustment allowed a shift from 50/50 to 80/20 rear to front. A hydraulic height management system could place the car anywhere from 4.3 inches from the ground, to 7.4. The wheels featured hollow spokes to increase the volume of air in the tires, managing heat and providing a smoother ride. Air-pressure sensors detected tire failure, and run-flats were included. The body was constructed for maximum weight-saving, utilizing materials ranging from aluminum door skins to kevlar roof panels. The technological tour de force did not disappoint on the street. A 0-60mph time of 3.6 s was easily attainable. More? How about 0-100 mph in 8.6 sec. and a standing quarter in 12 sec?Top speed exceeded 190 mph. Lord have mercy.

Was the introduction of the 959 one of the greatest shifts in supercar thinking to date? Most certainly. The Herculean efforts of the engineering team were deftly translated into a snarling, ferocious product. Even today, supercars struggle to match the capabilities routinely demonstrated by the 959. Legendary would be an understatement. It should go without saying this one should stand the test of time in the Fantasy Garage, but only if you see fit to vote it in first.

Two Uber-Cars Drive the Green Mile

Ben Wojdyla — Thu, 31 Jan 2008 15:00:00 EST

With the departure of the hairy but golden-penned Mr. Lieberman, I have been passed the torch of the Jalopnik Fantasy Garage. It is with honor and deference I accept this great undertaking. I hope to carry on where he left off, bringing you the best of the best in this galaxy of automobilia. Unfortunately, my first duty in this endeavor is striking the final coffin nails on two former occupants of the garage, a pair of cars you've deemed unworthy.

The writing was on the wall early for the RUF RT12. Its early inception and lack of respectable progeny placed it high on the list of potential candidates for the ax. Apparently, prodigious power and fancy paint jobs do not an ongoing fantasy make.

Progeny, it seems, rang the death knell of the ultraluxe Rolls Royce Phantom, as well. Perhaps a bit too much Swabish blood flows through its once proud British heart to allow it to stay in the garage. Perhaps that whiff of aristocratic excess overcomes its elegant craftsmanship. Regardless, it suffers the same fate as its Germanic compatriot.

And so, we've winnowed it down to 39 of the rarest, or most beautiful, or most lovable cars on the planet. And we're working up a special Friday JFG treat to heal the wounds you've all inflicted on each other during the past week's melees.

Jalopnik Fantasy Garage: Double Execution Day

Jonny Lieberman — Fri, 25 Jan 2008 13:00:00 EST

Four cars, two bullets. But where to aim? After two days worth of ~~ruthless bickering~~ enlightened discussion, you have selected the Fantasy Garage's four bottom feeders. First to act is the RUF RT12, the car that achieved the 2nd highest number of "out!" votes. Interestingly, this non-CTR Yellowbird RUF was also the first car inducted into this here Garage. Will it meet the same fate as the second ever inductee, the Maserati Quatroporte? That's for you to decide.

Next up is the Rolls Royce Phantom. As is tradition around these parts, big-ass 4-doors fair quite poorly when it comes time to nix. I still pine for the W12 Phaeton. Anyhow, the Daddy Warbucks Roller appears to be no exception.

Third to bat, we have the Lamborghini LM002 barely squeaking by the Buick GSX 455. Just three votes up as of me writing this. People really seem to hate this V12 powered 455 horse off-roader. Bunch of meshugoim if you ask me, but that's democracy for you. Finally, the poor Porsche 928 simply got dog piled. Too bad, but the people have spoken. Just like when we reelected George Bush. Remember, two of these cars are banished from the premises. Happy voting amigos.

Jalopnik Fantasy Garage: Trimming the Fat Part 4

Jonny Lieberman — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 15:00:00 EST

Y'all are getting testy! There is some serious cat fighting taking place in this morning's part 3. Early on, both the Buick GSX and the Charger/Challenger were in real danger of getting the knife. And why not? Muscle cars — while very cool — have been fetishized (and priced) to the point of irrelevance. Their OG MO was that they provided cheap power to the common man. Now they represent investment opportunities. Can I get a yawn? End rant. The good news for you Motown devotees is that Rambo's Lambo has eeked out a small lead. The bad news (for me) is that I love the LM002. Is there a possible upside? Sure, if you squirrels manage to vote the LM002 out of the Garage, that should junk the street price to the tune of 0.000047%! Anyhow, if you jump, you can vote on the last 10 cars. And remember — tomorrow we'll vote on the final 4, killing 2 of them.

Jalopnik Fantasy Garage: Trimming the Fat Part 3

Jonny Lieberman — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 12:00:00 EST

21 cars down, 20 more to go! Be sure to check out yesterday's part 1 and part 2. Maybe you can sneak in a couple of late votes. Not that it would matter much at this point. So, what did we learn? I'm a bit shocked to find the Garage's Roller is so passionately reviled and hated. I guess lotsa folks just don't have four-doored fantasies. And it looks like the RUF RT12 is toast. As for today, get ready for a slug fest. I could announce the cars right here, but that would kill the surprise. And we like surprises.

Jalopnik Fantasy Garage: Trimming the Fat Part 2

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 15:00:00 EST

Well sir, looks like the RUF is taking it on the chin. But hey, as we've seen, the RUF always takes it on the chin and then a much more fantastic car gets voted out (I cry for you, Exelero). Still, I'm hopeful. And we're losing two of our residents this week, so lots more action ahead! Looks like this round features the perennial JFG dog Corvette ZR-1 (some people just don't get it). ~~However, you'll also be voting on the Vallelunga, a car I still don't get.~~ Oooh, and there's that Phantom, too. Anyhow, relax, have a donut and happy voting.

Jalopnik Fantasy Garage: Trimming the Fat Part 1

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 11:30:00 EST

Man, talk about oversights. Last week you wonderful people inducted the gorgeous-is-an-understatement BMW 507. And that means we now have 41 cars in our Fantasy Garage. As you know, whenever we hit a nice, round number like 40, it's time to dump a car. We should of done so last week, but last week was a rough one. So, we'll taking out the trash (so to speak) this week. Where to even start? Yeah, I have no idea, either. So, like we done did before, let's just commence with the voting and see where that takes us. Who knows, maybe we'll even kill two birds...

1959 Facel Vega HK500

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 16 Jan 2008 16:15:00 EST

Well, well, well — what do we have here? Why it's one of our Fantasy Garage cars, the Facel Vega HK500! And it can be yours for the Buy It Now price of just $75,000. Or, you can see where the auction takes you. As of right now, just two bids. The car was purchased in Germany, driven around Europe and has been living in the rust-free car utopia that is the SF Bay Area for the past 49 years. You gotta love the people that bought these things — check this out:

There is a 2 -3 inch hairline crack in the windshield-a new windshield is available for an extra $1,000.00 plus shipping. I have two sources for them. Quite frankly I never wanted to replace the windshield and loose the history on the car because there is an original, in period sticker on the windshield from Golden Gate Fields -the local San Francisco Bay Area horse race track. (The original owner was an Olympic dressage champion-with a swimming pool for her horses in Atherton-can you imagine?..)

As Han Solo might say, I can imagine a lot. Like owning this baby. Man, a black Cali plate, too? As always, sigh... Hey Junkman, you adopting "big-boned" hairy Jewish auto journo types? [eBay]

BMW 507

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 16 Jan 2008 12:45:00 EST

You know who we don't spend enough time talking about? Max Hoffman. Max Hoffman? Yeah buddy, Max Hoffman. Those of you with steel trap memories will remember that Hoffman was the guy who convinced Mercedes-Benz to build and import the 300 SL, a car we all agree is six degrees of triple-rad. Hoffman also had Frank Lloyd Wright design him both a home and a Jaguar dealership in Manhattan and he's responsible for bringing the Porsche 356 Speedster to American soil. The BMW 507, too. What a guy.

In case you don't know thy Germans, before WWII, BMW was becoming known as a maker of sporty, fast, race-winning cars. The very best example being the mega-killer 328 Roadster and Coupe, two cars that I wouldn't be surprised if/when they found their way into this here Fantasy Garage. But alas, war happens and BMW got out of the car biz (and motorcycle biz) and went back to its Roundel roots by building radial engines — like the 41.8-liter 801 — for Junker Jus and Messerschmitts. Luckily, we (and the Russians) bombed their Nazi asses halfway back to the Stone Age. Come the 1950s however, and suddenly Bayerische Motoren Werke AG wants to build cars again. However, they went off in an odd direction.

Enter the BMW 501/502. Sure, it had the first post-war V8 in all of Germany when introduced in 1952. But it wasn't sporty in the slightest. Nor particularly "hot." Yeah, we dig the design but we're a little weird. And they were expensive. And everyone in Germany was broke. And people in America and the UK (i.e. the ones with the money) were still miffed at Germany on account of all that Aryan superman nonsense. However, along comes Max Hoffman, who convinces BMW that what they really need to do is build an uber-car, a roadster version of the 502.

Hoffman wanted a BMW that could compete with contemporary Jaguar XKs and Mercedes-Benz 300 SLs. In truth, BMW did very much want to build a sports car, but it was Hoffman that convinced them to go with bodywork designed by Count Albrecht von Goertz instead of their first choice, racing driver Ernst Loof. This was a double-win for BMW as von Goertz (who befriended Hoffman after leaving Studebaker) designed the stunning BMW 503 as well as today's inductee, the legendary 507.

You could make a case that the more obscure 503 is actually the car that should be getting voted on today. After all, it's very rare, achingly beautiful and mechanically essentially the same as the 507. You could make that case if you were blind. As it happens, few cars in the history of the horseless carriage are as capable of shortening one's breath as the scorchingly, sinfully gorgeous 507. Long, low and ludicrously sexy, it boggles the mind that the 507 nearly forced BMW out of business. But it did.

The chassis was from the 503 with 14 inches hacked out of it (wheelbase is 97.6"). The body panels were hand made from aluminum. How hand made? The 507 was available with an optional removable hard top. But you couldn't switch tops between cars. Each top only fit the specific car it was made for. You gotta love that. The front suspension was comprised of double-wishbones while the rear was a live axle with a Panhard rod, pretty standard for the time.

Actually, surprisingly, mechanically the 507 wasn't all that advanced. The original cars had drum brakes at all four corners (later on the production cycle disks were available). I'm also hesitant to mention the engine, which put out just 150 hp from its 3.2-liter aluminum V8 (though a 160 hp upgrade was available. At a neither hefty nor svelte 2,835 lbs. you would be correct in guessing that the 507 was not in fact a screamer.

Big fat hairy deal.

The 507 came with a fully synchromeshed 4-speed manual and while the 0-60 times weren't great (figure about 10 seconds flat) the car could hit 141 mph, depending on the gearing. Again, does it really matter? Picture yourself in a BMW 507 top down on Highway 12 between Sonoma and Napa Counties and explain to me how or why 0-60 times matter. Is anyone shocked that the 507 was the belle of the ball at the 1955 Frankfurt Auto Show?

So what killed the 507, and nearly killed BMW? Cost. It ain't cheap paying people to hand pound alloy panels. Hoffman's business model called for 507s to cost around $5,000 (compared to about $10,000 for a MB 300 SL). However, the labor costs ballooned the 507's US price tag to first $9,000 for the Series 1 cars (42 built) and $10,500 for the Series 2 507s (210 built). Hoffman's business case called for some 5,000 507s to be sold in the US alone, annually. Instead, BMW built just 252 cars in between 1956 and 1959. This revenue shortfall crippled BMW and they were forced to start building those damn (but loveable) bubble cars.

Would our Garage be complete without a 507? I'd argue no. I mean, hey, Elvis had one. And who are you to argue with the King? Is the 507 as flat out gorgeous as last week's Aston Martin DB4 GT Zagato? That's like picking between Diana Rigg and Charlotte Rampling — you can't lose. Or win. Undoubtedly some will be unmoved by the best-ever looking BMW's lack of sporting prowess. There is little I can do except suggest you think about all the rash decisions you've made because of a beautiful girl. And of course, happy voting.

[The Jalopnik Fantasy Garage appears every Wednesday. Readers vote the cars in or out. The idea is that we'll have 50 cars in our Fantasy Garage, the world's greatest mechanic and endless wads of cash. Would you like to nominate a car for the Fantasy Garage? Write tips@jalopnik.com with the subject line "Fantasy."]

Bonus Fantasy: DB4 GT Zagato Gallery

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 09 Jan 2008 15:15:00 EST

Frankly, I'm delighted by the enthusiasm on display in today's Fantasy Garage. Certain cars are simply that good. About a decade back I was given a book about Aston Martin DB4/5s by a pistonhead boss. It wasn't a raise, but I was ~~dumb~~ young enough to still be thrilled. As you can imagine, the pages on the DB4 GT Zagato are especially dog eared. Spada's bodywork is immortal — simply one of the greatest ever. To celebrate his masterpiece, here's some extra pics. Please enjoy.

Aston Martin DB4 GT Zagato

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 09 Jan 2008 12:00:00 EST

I believe there are certain things you can never have too many of. Good pairs of jeans and shoes. Pocket knives. Friends with pickup trucks. Real Mexican joints. Books. And of course, sports cars from the early 60s that competed at LeMans in your Fantasy Garage. We've already got the two best (the Shelby Cobra Daytona Coupe and the Ferrari 250 GTO, respectively) so let us now induct the most beautiful; the British/Italian hybrid Aston Martin DB4 GT Zagato.

It might surprise some of you that a company with as storied a racing pedigree as Aston Martin would turn to Italy for help with its then-ultimate road car. After all, the "Aston" in Aston Martin comes from the Aston Clinton hillclimb where founder Lionel Martin had so much success. But remember, the decidedly non-Anglo Augustus Cesare Bertelli (aka "Bert") rescued Aston Martin from the Charnwood family's death grip in 1927. Lucky for us, too, as Bertelli was one hell of an engineer. In the mid-20s he built three cars for none other than Wolfe Barnato. Bert actually won the Rudge Whitworth Biennial Cup at LeMans behind the wheel of a "Bertelli Aston."

After the unpleasantness with the Germans, Sir David Brown continued the continental collaboration when he took over Aston. By the mid-50s, Brown had turned to Carrozzeria Touring to coachbuild the DB4. And why not? Carrozzeria had no only pioneered the Superleggera system (lightweight alloy panels stretched over tubular frame) but had build such humdingers as the 8C for Alfa and the 328 Touring Coupe for BMW. While pretty, the DB4 was just not enough.

So, Aston Martin pumped out the DB4 GT. Power from the Tadek Marek designed 3.7-liter DOHC straight-6 was bumped from 240 to 302 hp. The wheelbase was shortened, which meant that the useless to begin with backseat was gone in the GT. The aluminum was thinner (i.e. lighter) and the headlights were cowled, taking a blind-stab at aerodynamics. And while the DB4 GT was a nice improvement over the "standard" car and did reasonably well on the track, it still wasn't enough. Translation: the DB4 GT couldn't compete with Ferrari 250 GTs. So Brown (presumably) picked up the phone and called Zagato.

With a track record studded with such winners as the Fiat 8V, OSCA 4500 Biondetti, Alfa 8C 2900 and Jaguar XK 140 Z, Brown would have been nuts to call anyone else. Zagato was more than happy to rip the DB4 GT apart and rebuild it. Steel pieces were replaced with aluminum ones and the car was made even smaller still than the GT. Perspex was used in place of heavier glass. The bumpers were ripped off, along with everything that wasn't needed in a racing car. The engine even got re-jiggered to the tune of 314 hp, which in 1960 was pretty boss. Especially in a 2,701 pound whip. But the real legacy of the Aston Martin DB4 GT Zagato involves the young designer named Ercole Spada.

Spada, who would go on to design both the Alfa Romeo Giulietta and Giulia TZ, crafted what to my eyes is one of the very most beautiful cars ever. We're talking top 10 here, if not top 5. The DB4 GT Zagato was his first gig. Do I need to mention beginner's luck? Gone was the inherent British slab-sidedness and upright grill. In were sumptuous Italian curves and unrealistically killer detailing. While simple at first, repeated gawking reveals Spada's knockout to be quite complex, especially if you change angles. I notice something new and enticing almost every time. Checkout the fishy-faced hood metal bending over the grill in profile. Pretty friggin' nifty, you ask me.

How'd the Aston Zagatos fare on the track? Not so hot. They could compete, even at LeMans, but the DB4 GT Zagatos were never as stiff nor as lean as the winning Ferraris of the time. The handling needed to tackle the most challenging tracks in the world was just never there. And so what? Because you know that little could matter less on an actual road. Still, if you don't win on Sunday... 25 cars were planned, but due to soft demand only 19 were ever built (though during the dark times known as the 80s Aston Martin completed 4 leftover chassis and three "new" replicas from scratch). For 1960 the Aston Martin DB4 GT Zagato was impressive machine only trumped by the very best sports car in the world. For 2008, the Zagato-bodied Aston is without question one of the world's most desirable. I mean. James Bond is cool, but Josepi Bondolini is righteous. Happy Voting.

[The Jalopnik Fantasy Garage appears every Wednesday*. Readers vote the cars in or out. The idea is that we'll have 50 cars in our Fantasy Garage, the world's greatest mechanic and endless wads of cash. Would you like to nominate a car for the Fantasy Garage? Write tips@jalopnik.com with the subject line "Fantasy."

*Sorry about last week. New Years and all that.]

Rolls-Royce Phantom

Jonny Lieberman — Thu, 27 Dec 2007 12:00:00 EST

For generations, Rolls-Royces were the automotive equivalent of a white wedding dress. Pretty, but who you trying to fool, honey? Yes, the badge said Rolls-Royce, but wink-wink, nudge, nudge, Elton John covered his in rhinestones, but come on — they weren't very good cars. Sure, we'd love to get our mits on a Phantom IV. Or better yet, a Camargue! But even then you're talking 189 hp from a 6.75-liter V8 coupled to a GM 3-speed autobox. Woo frigging hoo. And at least the Camargue was kinda nifty looking. Most Rollers are frumpy, bulgy looking things. But they had a lot of leather and walnut and wool and odds are you weren't doing the driving anyhow, so did it really matter that the emperor was wearing little more than a pair of speedos? To BMW it did.

Flush with cash and hubris BMW purchased Rolls-Royce in 2003 and set about modernizing the moribund brand. Volkswagen had gobbled up Bentley and was planning to stick two turbochargers into a 2-door Phaeton and call it a Continental. Mercedes was busy breathing life back into the Maybach name with an elongated S-Class fitted with... twin-turbos. BMW then had every reason and right to stick a massive grill on their 7-Series, plumb in a couple of turbochargers and pray that the NBA takes a liking to their new Rolls. Only they didn't. Instead, BMW took a chance.

No, BMW decided it best if they built a new car from the ground up. Well, almost from the ground up. True, about 15% of the Phantom is shared with the 7-Series, but those are mostly bits and baubles like the motors for the windows and seats. Essentially meaningless. Besides, finding the check engine light on your Roller is from a 760Li is much less jarring than discovering the cup holder in your DB9 comes from a ~~Five Hundred~~ Taurus. Also, the 6.75-liter V12 is based on BMW's 6.0-liter V12. Other than that, the Phantom is bespoke.

The engineers started with an aluminum space frame. While more complex and costly than a monocoque design, a space frame has the advantage of being much more rigid — like all modern NASCARs. I remember speaking with a person intimately involved with the Phantom project about the strength of the chassis and him whispering, "It's so completely over-engineered. You could drive it through a brick wall, through a house! We made it much, much stronger than it needed to be." Indeed, the Phantom's chassis is twice as stiff as an F1 car's, despite being severely more massive. Even the dashboard is a single, solid hunk of magnesium.

As far as that engine goes, the modest bump in displacement only nets a few horses over BMW's 6.0-liter mill (453 hp vs. 438 hp) however, the torque increase is significant. That extra three quarters of a liter (and some ECU rejiggering) raises the twist from a mighty 444 lb-ft to a massive, Bentley-like 531 lb-ft. That much thrust is of course what allows the 5,600 lbs. beast to hit 60 mph in 5.7 seconds (the same as a WRX for those keeping score) on its way to a limited top speed of 150 mph. The Phantom can also run the quarter-mile in 14.03 @ 100 mph. Not bad for a yacht. One more bit of fun; in lieu of a tachometer, RR fitted the Phantom with a reserve power meter. Simply put, under acceleration the car lets you know how much power you have in reserve. Supposedly, unless you have the car flat out at 150 mph, the big Roller always has something left to give.

But of course talking about the Phantom's performance is a bit like arguing about Gisele Bundchen's IQ. That's not why you buy a Rolls-Royce. Obviously, there are faster cars. There are even faster sedans. But there are none better. Nor more luxurious. Does your Maybach have Art Deco lighting fixtures? We didn't think so. Or organ stops to control the vents? In fact, aren't your vents — gasp — from the S-Class? In fact, I believe your Maybach steering wheel is also from a Mercedes-Benz, and says "SRS." The Phantom's tiller looks like it was ripped from the Honey Fitz. As for seats, sure the Maybach has reclining lounge chairs pilfered from a Learjet. Whereas the Phantom features a couch. As Clarkson noted, he's surprised there isn't a wood burning stove. Yes, the Maybach has a public address system so you can yell at the proles, but honestly, why would you ever want to talk to the peasantry? Just have your chauffer shoot them.

The options list and attention to detail are simply staggering. Do you require an electronic, trunk mounted safe welded to the space frame? Done. Or how about a chilled wine cooler (wood trimmed of course) instead? Not a problem. We particularly like the humidor built into the glove box. For a fee, Rolls-Royce will happily build your entire interior out of a single tree. All the leather comes from Bavaria, but not from cows as that leather is too stretchy. No, every inch of hide inside the Phantom is from bulls. Squirrel and ox hair is used for the brushes to apply the pin striping (we're not making that up). They'll even festoon the thing inside and out with your family crest should you so desire. And we do desire — all we need is a family crest. Everything mentioned is just the ludicrous tip of the ridiculous iceberg, for in Crewe money ultimately talks.

Reportedly it takes three hours to hand paint that pin stripe

Then of course there are the Phantom's looks. Flabbergasting. Like a few other cars we can think of (Nissan's new GT-R springs to mind) pictures do not in any way do the big Rolls justice. Designed in California by Marek Djordjevic the Phantom simply gets it right — he even got the tail lights right (British cars have tiny rear lights). I happen to live on a blind corner and one day a gray Phantom came along. I stood jaw dropped as the thing kept coming and coming and coming. One cannot overstate its size. Nor its presence. In fact, that week I happened to be testing the Ford F250 Outlaw and the big Brit was in no way dwarfed by the giant American. Quite unlike every other car on the road, I should add. To see one is to desire one. Perhaps this is why sales took a sharp upswing in this, the Phantom's third year of production. We'll take the long-wheelbase edition, with the in-floor foot rests and the dual televisions, black on black with yellow seat piping and stainless steel veneer inlays, please. Did we even mention the suicide doors? Happy voting.

Tucker 48

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 19 Dec 2007 12:00:00 EST

Since birth, I've been trained to root for the underdog. Blame my socialist/communist liberal Jewish Montreal roots if you must, but there is something just so much better about the little guy beating the big guy. George Washington defeating the full might of the British Empire. Joe Namath beating Johnny Unitas. Rocky. Rudy, etc. In terms of the Fantasy Garage, we've already inducted the car that I consider to be the greatest underdog of them all, the Shelby Cobra Daytona Coupe, which by the way kicked Ferrari's ass. And of course who can forget the Honda 1300 Coupe 9? This week's nominee, the Tucker 48, would have been an even better underdog tale. Sadly however, Detroit and Washington tag teamed Preston Tucker's "Car of the Tomorrow" into submission before it ever had the chance to fight. Sigh...

If you want to know more about the controversy, watch the movie, Tucker: A Man and His Dream. The long story told short is that after WW2 Preston Tucker decides to build the best car in the world (funny side note — Tucker's prototype combat car was rejected by the US military for going too fast — 120 mph). Through connections and some pretty savvy (some say questionable) salesmanship he raises millions of dollars, buys an old Dodge factory and sets to work on his dream. Detroit gets nervous as word starts leaking out that Mr. Tucker is really up to something. That or Michigan's powerful Senator Ferguson (whose wife owned tons of Chrysler stock) had it out for Preston. The SEC and the US Attorney relentlessly hounded Tucker until they eventually indicted all the company executives for fraud. Later, everyone accused was found to be totally innocent but the damage had been done. Just 51 Tucker 48s (50 production cars plus the "Tin Goose" prototype) were ever built. The end. Thing is, despite the dramatic back story, the Tucker 48 — also known as the Tucker Torpedo — is a one hell of an automobile.

Preston Tucker: A Man with Dreams

Tucker's original vision called for a rear mounted 589 cubic inch (9.7-liter) Hemi flat-6 that was to be fuel injected and have overhead valves operated by hydraulic pressure as opposed to cams. How far ahead of its time was that? Well, fuel-injection didn't show up in a passenger car until 8-years later in the form of a Bosch mechanical unit in the 1955 MB 300 SL. While I can't think of a case where oil pressure was used to run valves (correct me if I'm wrong), oil pressure is used to vary valve timing. The 589 was so massive that it required a 24-volt electrical system to get it to crank. However, the monster engine turned out to be a little too innovative — they couldn't make it work.

What do you do if your name is Preston Tucker and your nearly 10-liter flat-6 don't work? That's right, you try and cram a Lycoming aircraft engine into the engine bay. Did I mention the Tucker 48 was rear engined? Only trouble was, it wouldn't fit. So, you grab an air-cooled helicopter engine that does. After his engineers converted the 335 cu. in. Franklin flat-6 to water-cooled, it pumped out a pretty healthy for the day 166 hp (Tucker had promised 150 hp from his 589 cu. in. beast) and an insane (for 1947) 372 ft-lb of torque. How insane? Under full acceleration, first gear could rip teeth off the transmission. Just to make sure that no one else got a crack at the engine, Tucker bought Franklin (which was later sold to Poland in 1975). Despite its size and potency, the 48 weighed 4,235 pounds, essentially the same as contemporary cars from Lincoln, for instance. Both the engine and transmission were mounted in a subframe held in place by just 6 bolts. The idea was that while the engine was in the shop, a new powertrain could be swapped in so the customer could go about his/her business.

Six Pipes, Baby

A rear mounted detachable helicopter engine wasn't the only innovation. Like most everything else with his car, Tucker's vision far exceeded the technological and financial realities of the day. Still, you can never fault a man for dreaming. The original design for the car called for both headlights and fenders that moved with the wheels. The driver was to sit in the middle, a notion brought to life 50-years later by Gordon Murray and his McLaren F1. He also wanted 4-wheel disk brakes, lightweight magnesium wheels and a very innovative automatic transmission (dubbed the "Tuckermatic") that had only 27 parts, 90 less than typical slushboxes. Only there was no way it could handle the mountain of torque served up by the Franklin motor. Ironically, the Tuckermatic box did as much to sink the company as anything else. The engineers never bothered to put a reverse gear in the prototype. Tucker always claimed that he was being spied on, and when word of this leaked out, the motoring press had a field day making fun of the car that couldn't go backwards. Sort of reminiscent of Tesla and their transmission woes, no? In the end, Tucker was forced to go with a conventional Cord tranny.

But the real innovations had to do with safety. Preston Tucker was obsessed with building a safe car. To that end, he fitted a padded dashboard, decades before the rest of the industry was mandated to do after the publication of Unsafe at Any Speed. While the moving headlights (and fenders) never panned out, a third headlight was added — dubbed the "Cyclops Eye" — that moved with the steering wheel illuminating the road in the direction the car would be traveling. Today, 60 years on, moving headlights are only now becoming the norm, and only on upscale makes. All of the controls, including the radio, were grouped around the steering wheel ensuring that in the event of an accident protruding bits wouldn't impale passengers.

The vehicle also had a perimeter frame that surrounded the passenger compartment. As the engine was out back, there was a large carpeted box ahead of the front seats that passengers could dive into when an accident was imminent. OK, so that last one is a little silly. Tucker also wanted to fit seatbelts to the 48 but his staff convinced him that doing so would give off the impression that the car was unsafe. Tucker's car was anything but. When a test driver crashed and rolled one at 100 mph during a public demonstration at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, then walked away with only bruises, the public was sold. And then became angry at the press and the government for essentially slandering the 48.

Perhaps most importantly of all, the Tucker 48 was beautiful. Tucker hired the legendary Alexander Sarantos Tremulis of Auburn-Cord-Duesenberg fame. Tremulis was given the lets just say far fetched task of completing the design in just six days (because of promises made to investors to reach timelines, everything at Tucker was done on a frenzied schedule). The results not only aesthetically speak for themselves, but were pretty aerodynamic, too. In fact, the 48 had a drag coefficient of just 0.27 (they rounded it up to 0.30 for print materials) and that made it the most aerodynamic car in the world. Just for comparison's sake, Tremulis's design was pen drawn under duress and the finished cars were hand formed with hammers. The Toyota Prius, designed on lots of computers and whose modus operandi is to generate as little wind resistance as possible, has a drag coefficient of 0.26.

Calling a stillborn machine a tragedy may seem a touch insensitive or like an exaggeration. Though in the case of the Tucker Torpedo, I think it is warranted. Forward thinking, powerful, safe and utterly gorgeous, Americans and car lovers around the world were robbed by corporate shenanigans, government incompetence and an overzealous press. And just think of what future Tucker cars might have been, like the sportier Talisman model he had in the works. The central theme of Werner Herzog's Fitzcarraldo is pulling a 300 ton boat over a hill in Peru without any machinery. Herzog wanted the audience to "believe their eyes," so he really did pull a 300 ton boat over a hill using ropes and men. It took years, and halfway through filming he was called back to civilization to face his financial masters. They asked that he give up his foolishness, and just build a model of the boat in a studio. Herzog refused, stating, "But then I would be a man without dreams." Even though Preston Tucker's plan for the "Car of Tomorrow" was crushed, his dream wasn't. He moved to Brazil and began working on a lightweight sportscar called the Carioca. He died before it was completed. Do the man a solid and vote the 48 into the Garage.

Tucker's Unfinished Carioca. (Sadly just a rendering — but notice where he stuck the headlights)

Read "An Open Letter from Preston Tucker"

(Tip of the playoff bound, NFC North Champ Green Bay Packers cap to UDman for the pictures and the push)

Continental MK II

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 12 Dec 2007 12:00:00 EST

I ran across an article today on MSNBC.com that proclaims the new Cadillac CTS is "The Cadillac of luxury sedans." And you thought Jalopnik was the fount from which all automotive irony sprung. It's true though, and I know you've heard it before, but in the 1950s a Cadillac was the el numero uno in the world. For it was a time when Mercedes was still trying to shake its image of Nazi tank builder, BMWs were slightly more fuddy than duddy and most Japanese cars had three wheels, if not less. Sure you had Rolls-Royce but they were just rebadged Bentleys with anemic straight-sixes and dodgy slushboxes. And Italy? Yeah, not so much. No, it was Cadillac baby, the self proclaimed standard of the world. Except for one car. And it was a Lincoln, kinda.

The going was good in postwar America and Ford, like everyone else, wanted a bigger slice of it. In 1952 the then 26-year-old William Clay Ford (brother of Hank the Deuce and pappy to the current Billy Ford) decided to not only revive the Continental nameplate, but build something truly spectacular. The plan, simply, was to build the very best car in the world, price be damned. W.C. Ford brought all the big guns he could muster to the battle. John Reinhart led the design team, and if you've ever admired the 1953 Packard Caribbean you know who he is. The body was designed and engineered by Gordon Buehrig who designed the Duesenberg J, Auburn Speedster and Cord 810/812. William Clay's product had unimpeachable pedigree before anyone so much as picked up a pen.

The only hitch was, Henry II hated the initial design. Not a problem, as William Clay brought in four other design teams to draft alternate proposals. Then, in an event likely unprecedented in the storied history of FoMoCo, a panel of judges was assembled to pick the winning design. Why unprecedented? Because the judges were shown the proposals alone, free from any knowledge of which project the big boss liked or disliked. Not shockingly with its (comparative) lack of bling and sleek Euro creases, Reinhart and Buehrig's initial, internal design was picked as best. So be it.

You can't just say you're going to build the best car in the world and produce it on a standard assembly line. W.C. Ford was well aware of this, so he had a special factory built. The Continental MK IIs were essentially hand built to near ludicrous tolerances. Here's a few examples. The bodies were pre-fit to make sure that everything was hunky-dory, then disassembled and each piece was painted three times, lacquered twice, hand-sanded and buffed before being assembled. Each piece of chrome was given a 10-day salt spray test. Transmissions were individually tested before installation. The leather came from Scottish cows. Why Scottish cows? Because they don't use barbed wire in Scotland. Though the most ~~insane~~ extreme example of the new Continental's devotion to perfection was that all of the cross-head screws used to hold the windshield in place were hand adjusted to line up vertically and horizontally. All in all, there were 14 quality control stations throughout the factory.

Obviously standard old Ford engines in the MK IIs would simply not do. So, the engineers cherry picked the best 6.0-liter (368 ci) V8s right off the Lincoln assembly line. These engines featured parts with the tightest tolerances and subsequently they produced the most power. The mills were then torn down and effectively blue printed for use in the Mark IIs. Power was given at 300 horses, but as each motor was essentially hand made this number is thought to be on the low side. Like the transmissions, the engines were also tested rigorously before installation. Lack of power was never an issue. Also of note is that each completed car was extensively road tested after assembly, before being shipped to a dealer.

The compulsive attention to quality didn't stop once a MK II left the factory. Ford actually had a special team of field engineers brought together who could be dispatched anywhere in the country to fix problems. This sounds crazy until you realize what Ford was charging for a MK II. $10,000 in 1955, or about $80,000 in today's dollars. But even priced at 10 large Ford estimated that they lost $1,000 on each car they built. Remember, at the time a top of the heap Caddy cost "just" $5,000 and even a Rolls-Royce cost less. As a result, like so many of the cars in our Fantasy Garage, the Continental MK II became a must have for the richest in the land. Elvis had one, as did the Shah, Henry Kissinger and Frank Sinatra. So did Barry Goldwater, Ike, Howard Johnson, Nelson Rockefeller, Spike Jones, Louie Prima and the amazing Henry J. Kaiser. Not too shabby, huh?

Ultimately though, the people that could afford the MK II bought one, and that was that. Ford originally envisioned selling 2,000 units a year, but they barely built more than 3,000 cars total before the MK II was killed off in 1957. As was the Continental brand. Deemed too exclusive to be a Lincoln, Ford decided to create a whole new brand named in honor of Edsel Ford's V12 Continental. However, they were never exactly sure of the decision to create a new division, as the MK II carried Lincoln's four-pointed star on its hood ornament and Lincoln-signature spare tire bump. Regardless of whether you call it a Continental, a Lincoln, or one of the most amazing all time Fords, the uncompromising MK II deserves a spot in our Fantasy Garage. Happy Voting.

What Do You Want in the Fantasy Garage?

Jonny Lieberman — Thu, 06 Dec 2007 12:30:00 EST

The Bora snuck in by the skin of it's teeth yesterday. More importantly, the howls were louder and louder. "Not my fantasy." "Nice car, but there are 50 better cars out there." "LOL fugly POS." All valid criticism I guess. Sure, why not? But folks, the Bora makes 36 cars parked in the Garage. We'll toss another one out after we get to 40, but still, the end is extremely fucking nigh. And so we're asking, what? What will make you happy? And don't say Porsche 959. Save your breath.

Maserati Bora

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 05 Dec 2007 12:00:00 EST

With last weeks whopping, landslide inclusion of the McLaren F1 (96.8% yes) we asked ourselves, "How many more hot-shit performance monsters do we really need in this here Fantasy Garage?" Along with the F1, we've got the king of the world Veyron and the over-performing Ford GT. We've even (somehow) still got the RUF RT12. With that in mind we've decided to slow things down (a bit) and ask you to contemplate a true heart string plucker, the amazing Maserati Bora. And actually for its time, the Bora could fly. Have a look.

Created to compete with the likes of Lamborghini's madcap Miura, De Tomaso Mangusta and eventually Ferrari's Berlinetta 365 GT4 BB, the Bora therefore had to be a mid-engined 2-seat supercar. Unlike the other Italians however, the Bora was to be more mature, reserved and even a touch understated. This was part of the plan from the very beginning, as evidenced from the ITAL DESIGN Press Release:

The brief called for a car that was clearly a Maserati, modern but devoid of the exotic look that unnecessary decorations can create, strikingly sporty but not inordinately aggressive. In short: innovative but not revolutionary.

With these cues in mind, Giorgetto Giugiaro turned to his own masterpiece, the Ghilbi for inspiration. The Ghilbi sported the classic lines of a front-engined GT, similar in proportions to the Jaguar E-type. But with the Bora's engine nestled longitudinally behind the seats, Giugiaro's pen was free to create something entirely new and quite futuristic looking, especially at the 1971 Geneva show where the Bora wowed everyone in attendance. You don't have to squint very hard to see a correlation between the Bora and BMW's iconic M1. A whole lotta DeLorean, too. Although he penned the design by hand in a wind tunnel free environment, Giugiaro managed to achieve a drag coefficient of just 0.30. Also cool, the A-pillars and roof were constructed out of brushed stainless steel.

This slippery shape meant that if fitted with the right engine, the Bora could go very fast. Maserati reached into its bag of tricks and came back out with the familiar 4.7-liter DOHC V8 (the same one also found in the Ghilbi). Now fitted with four Webers, the mill was good for 310 hp @ 6000 rpm and a very respectable 325 lb-ft of torque at @ 4200 rpm. Displacement was eventually upped to 4.9-liters and output grew to 320 hp and 335 lb-ft of twist. This meant the Bora could reach 166 mph, among the world's fastest in the 1970s.

Refinement was also a key concern. In order to bridge the gap between wild supercar and gentlemanly grand tourer, Maserati chose to mount the engine (and transmission) separately from the steel monocoque in its own subframe. To cut down on NVH Maserati spent considerable time developing and tweaking the four flexible engine mounts. They even opted to carpet the aluminum engine cover and rear glass was double-glazed to further reduce the racket. A coilover suspension set up (again — at all four corners) and anti-roll bars further smoothed things out.

Note the horrendous US-spec, Malaise Era Bumpers

What's not to love?

The innovation didn't stop there. The Bora features four-wheel independent suspension, a first for a Maserati. The decision to build the Bora just so happened to occur at the same time that Citroen purchased Maserati. You know what that means — hydraulics! High-pressure French-tech was used to operate the vented disk brakes and the pop up headlights. In fact, the Bora's seat was on hydraulics. I say "on" because the seat didn't move backwards and forwards, nuh uh. It only moved up and down, hydraulically. But what if you're a tall gent? Well sir, the pedal box (gas, brake and clutch) can be slid to accommodate your height. Hydraulically, of course. As you may has guessed, the Bora's adjustable pedals were a world first. The steering wheel not only tilted but telescoped and with standard AC, the Bora was known as the comfortable Italian exotic.

Buff books of the day (like Road & Track) declared the first mid-engined Maserati to be, "one of the best-handling cars money can buy." Part of the reason for the car's well sorted handling was that Maserati test driver Guerrino Bertocchi hated mid-engined cars. In fact, he would go out of his way to find explain what exactly sucked about the Bora's handling. This caused a series of delays in the development process, but ultimately because of Bertocchi's constant nitpicking the Bora became one of the most accurate and compliant high performance cars in the world.

Beautiful, exotic, luxurious, fast, innovative and Italian. If those attributes don't make a Fantasy Garage car, I don't know which ones do. Happy voting.

McLaren F1

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 28 Nov 2007 12:00:00 EST

For the last several weeks we've been sticking with the classics. Cars like the Facel Vega HK500, Mercedes-Benz 300 SL and the all-conquering Bugatti Royale — vehicles that aren't so much pure fantasy as they are automotive high water marks. This week we're turning our attention to a modern classic, and the more things change... Back when Farago first launched our little Fantasy Garage, there was no question than an F1 would (someday) grace our car hole. The McLaren F1 should actually be synonymous inside every pistonhead's head with the word "Fantasy." In point of fact, it very well might be the greatest supercar ever made. Which may be why the Sultan of Brunei owns eight of 'em. Have a look.

Like most important ideas, the McLaren F1 was conceived on the back of a napkin. While waiting for a plane, designer and chief engineer Gordon Murray proposed the idea of building the very best, ultimate, super duper driver's car ever to McLaren's CEO Ron Dennis. Ron bit. The idea wasn't new or earth shaking: stick lots of power into a light vehicle to give (horribly wealthy) enthusiasts the ride of a lifetime. Carroll Shelby had been doing exactly that for years. However, what did make the turf move was the execution that is best described as flawless. No, better than flawless. The F1 is supercar 2.0.

What's so special? Well, actually, everything - but we'll break it down for you, starting with the amazing engine. From the start, Murray specified that the engine had to be normally aspirated. Forced induction, while creating gobs and gobs of power, does have a few downsides. One issue is that as complexity increases reliability correspondingly decreases. Certainly not a deal breaker but if your goal is to create the greatest driver's car in history, time spent in the shop is bad. But the other problem with super and turbochargers is that when they are spinning, the driver has less control over the engine as an additional layer of buffering is inserted between the mill and the driver's right foot. Not cool, said Gordon Murray.

Murray shopped around for an engine, initially trying with Honda and then Isuzu. Honda was a real possibility, as their engines had been powering McLaren's Formula 1 cars for some time. Honda eventually backed away and McLaren decided that as nifty as Isuzu's 3.5-liter V12 would be, they needed to go with a manufacturer that had racing cred. Enter BMW and their M Division. Who better to build you an engine? Murray specified an output of 550 hp and a weight of 250 kilogram (550 pounds). The boffins of Bimmer handed him back a 585 pound, 6.1-liter all-aluminum V12 mill with DOHC and variable timing for all 48 valves that cranked 627 horses and 480 ft-lb. of torque. Murray took it.

Obviously, a customized M70 is a pretty spectacular motor. But, if your aim is to produce the very best driver's car in the world then it is going to take much more than big power.

The McLaren F1 was the very first production car to feature a carbon fiber monocoque chassis that was derived from McLaren's successful race cars. In case you are wondering, the word monocoque is French for "single shell." What that means in car terms is that the vehicle's body actually supports some of the stress load, rather than building a truss and then covering it with non-load bearing skin. That's right; it's a fancy French way of saying "unibody." But building it from then hyper exotic carbon fiber was a major breakthrough, as this gave the F1 an unparalleled power-to-weight ratio. How unparalleled? The F1 debuted in 1994 with a power-to-weight ration of 501 hp/ton. When the Ferrari Enzo debuted in 2002, it achieved "only" 434 hp/ton. It took the maniac Bugatti Veyron with its 530 hp/ton to best the F1 (just for fun, the SSC Ultimate Aero TT boasts a ludicrous power-to-weight ratio of 1003 hp/ton).

If you haven't figured it out by now, the McLaren F1 is fast. Actually, calling the F1 "fast" is like calling Mariusz Pudzianowski "strong." So, let's revise that to read the McLaren F1 is insane. 0-60 happens in 3.2 seconds. 0-100 in 6.3. The quarter mile is dispatched with in 11.1 seconds at 138 mph. 0-150 takes just 12.8 seconds, and 0-200 mph happens in 28 seconds flat. But of course, the F1 isn't done yet, not hardly. On a long enough straight the McLaren F1 hits 240 mph. In 1994! And that's just the "regular" version.

Disregarding the 7 prototypes, McLaren built just 100 F1s. 72 "normal" cars and 28 modified racers. 5 LM or "LeMans" cars were constructed. The F1 LMs were over 100 pounds lighter (the standard F1 weighed in at a Lotus-like 2513 pounds). The LMs also had their engines tweaked to the tune of 680 hp. A new transaxle meant that the top speed was down to just 231 mph, but it could hit 100 mph in just 5.9 seconds, a world record. The F1 LM could also go 0-100-0 mph in 8.5 seconds, also a world record. All the LMs were painted Papaya orange except for the two sold to the Sultan of Brunei which are painted black and spaz.

As McLaren was indeed a race car maker, 28 F1 GTR races cars were built, one of which won the 1995 24 Hours of LeMans. A whopping 2 homologation F1 GT cars were built. They were essentially wingless, road going versions of the long-tailed, third generation GTRs. Interestingly, most of the GTRs once retired were converted to street use by adding mufflers and removing air-restrictors.

And we could ramble on all day long. The F1 was one of the first production cars to make use of downforce as a performance aid. The engine produces so much heat that gold foil from the Space Shuttle is used to shield the engine compartment. It generates over 1.3 Gs of lateral acceleration. The driver sits in the middle while his wife and mistress are seated behind him on either side. Nearly a decade and a half after it debuted, the F1 is the fourth fastest car in the world. It's got flippin' matched luggage that fits smartly into hidden side compartments. But all you really need to know before voting yes or no is that the McLaren F1 held the undisputed title of fastest production car in the world for twelve years. That's longer than any other car ever has. Oh snap! One more thing, the F1 had a real gearbox complete with a clutch. No stinkin' flappy paddles. Happy voting.

Tiff Needell Comparing the McLaren F1 to the Ferrari Enzo

Bugatti Type 41 Royale

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 21 Nov 2007 12:00:00 EST

To many a pistonhead, the ultimate in Bugattiness is the Type 57 Atlantic. You'll hardly get an argument out of us: ultra dope automobile. However, after intense deliberations with the Postfather we decided that the pre-War Bug demanded by our merry old Garage has to be the Royale. Designed at the height of the jazz age by Etorre Bugatti to be the most magnificent car ever created, the Type 41 was a beast of a machine specifically intended to humble the Rolls-Royces, Bentleys, Hispano-Suizas and Delahayes of the day. And boy, did it. While records are made to be broken, at various points over the last 80 or so years, the Royale has been the biggest, most powerful (with the biggest engine) and most expensive car ever created. Adjusted for inflation, the ultimate Bugatti would have set you back $700,000. Well, not you. Even though it was designed with royalty in mind, the wealthiest kings of Europe had trouble getting their hands on the majestic Royales. Take poor King Zog of Albania. Ettore refused to sell him one stating, "The man's table manners are beyond belief!" Luckily, Ettore's never seen us eat.

Let's get the size thing out of the way. The Bugatti Type 41 Royale is the largest production car ever built. The 1976 Cadillac Fleetwood, what most people think of when they think longest car, had a wheelbase of 157.5 inches. The Royale? 169 inches. At 236 inches long, the Bugatti is in fact 3 inches longer than the Caddy, however it weighs 3,000 pounds more, for an Excursion like total of 7,500 lbs. The drum brakes are 18 inches in diameter and the cast "Roue Royale" wheels are honest to goodness 24"s, the largest ever fit to a production car. Of course, the insane 12,763cc straight-8 is the most massive engine in any (production) car. Ever.

700 Cubic Inch SOHC Inline-8

Actually, we should spend more time talking about the engine. The 12.7-liter inline-8 was four and a half feet long by three and half feet high. This meant the top of the hood was 5 feet off the ground! Prototype engines were even bigger - 14.7-liters. The bore and stroke measured 125 mm x 130 mm. Extremely advanced for its time (designed in the 1920s), the big boy had a SOHC and 3-valves per cylinder while knocking out a truly epic 300 hp. Let me put that in perspective for you. A contemporary Cadillac V16 made 165 hp. Most firsthand accounts of piloting the Type 41 are filled with shock and awe at how quick, nimble and "svelte" the behemoths feel. That's torque for you. How much torque? I can't find any numbers, but Ettore kept Bugatti solvent during the Great Depression by selling the engine for use in locomotives. We'll just make like we're Brits and call it, "adequate."

Only six Royales were ever built and amazingly, despite accidents, frozen engine blocks, eight decades and World War II, all six still exist. Though if you hunt around on Google for images, you will find at least a dozen different Type 41s. That my friends, is coach building. The first Royale, chassis #41 100 had a total of five unique bodies. Through sheer efficiency of design Ettore was more than capable of creating some of the most gorgeous racing cars of all time. However, his luxury efforts were a little bit stuffy. Some, like me, might even say old fashioned and dull. Luckily we had his son Jean, the man responsible for most of the really gorgeous Type 57s (57SC Atlantic, anyone?). After Ettore fell asleep while driving and crashed the first car (while clad in its fourth body) the 23-year-old Jean got his hands on the massive hull and created the Coupe de Ville, also known as the Coupe Napoleon. This is probably our favorite Royale. Just a knockout.

Early Prototype Chassis #41 100

Jean also designed the swoopy Esders Convertible Royale (chassis # 41 111), infamous for not having headlights as Mr. Esders didn't like driving at night. Sadly, King Carol II of Romania hadthe second car rebodied to more closely resemble the Coupe Napoleon by the Parisian Henri Binder. However, he totally missed the elegance of young Jean's design. None other than Ferdinand Peich bought #41 111 in 1999 for around $4,000,000.

The third car, the Fuchs's car (chassis # 41 121), has a bizarre history. Bought in 1931 by Dr. Josef Fuchs of Munich for the equivalent of $41,000, Herr Doctor was forced to flee Germany by the Nazis. His family and the Royale went first to Italy, then Shanghai before finally settling in New York. Just before WW2 his engine froze (from winter cold) and cracked and the car sat in his backyard under a tarp for many years. In 1943 Charles Chayne bought #41 121 from a scrap yard for $400 plus $12 tax. Notably, Mr. Chayne eventually became the Vice President of Engineering at General Motors. Chayne restored the car and donated it to the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, MI, where it's still on display.

#41 141, the 1931 Kellner Coupe

Chassis #41 131, the fourth Royale, sports my third favorite body. There is something just massively British about it, reminiscent of the Daimler Double Six 50. Seeing how the body was crafted by Park Ward & Co Ltd of London this makes sense. It's also the only Royale to sport side mounted spare tires. The car was sold to a British Captain named C.W. Foster and it eventually wound up in the Schlumpf collection. Remember that name, Schlumpf.

If the rumors are to be believed, chassis #41 141, the 1931 Kellner Coupe, is the most expensive car ever. In 1990 a Japanese engineering firm is believed to have paid $20,000,000 for the fifth Royale. Encouraged by the sale of the Esders and Fuchs cars, Ettore decided it was high time to penetrate British high society. He contracted with the distinguished French coachbuilder Kellner to build something special for London's Olympia Auto Show. The results were beyond what anyone could have expected — just a masterpiece. Yet due to the financial realities of the times #41 141 never sold. Ettore just kept it. This car is currently owned by Bugatti.

#41 100 Coupe Napoleon

The most famous Royale of all, the Double Berline de Voyage, has had at least 10 owners including Briggs Cunningham, Bill Harrah and OG rightwing freakazoid Tom Monaghan of Domino's Pizza fame and fortune. Chassis #41 150 features by far the stuffiest old school body work and might very well be the second oldest of all the Royales. It may currently reside in Korea.

We can't end this entry without discussing the "seventh" Royale, as its story is simply incredible. Rest assured, Ettore Bugatti only built six Type 41s. Yet a seventh exists. Huh? Keep reading.

Fritz Schlumpf was a wealthy Swiss industrialist that owned several successful textile mills in Mulhouse, France. He also happened to be obsessed with cars, most notably Bugattis. I've heard different takes on Schlumpf. Some claim who was a cruel, petty man who walked the floors of his mills with a bullwhip fastened to his side, intimidating the piss out of his workers. Others say that he was generous to his men, paying for vacations, installing a movie house on site and personally driving expectant mothers to the hospital. Whatever the truth, Schlumpf loved cars in ways that you and I can only dream about. Need proof? He constructed his own secret Fantasy Garage to house his immense collection of mid blowing automobiles.

The post war economy was booming and Fritz was able to buy basically anything he wanted, including 18 of Ettore's personal cars. In fact, in 1967 he owned 105 Bugattis. Schlumpf also had the requisite Ferraris, pre-War Mercedes racers, Le Mans winning Lotus 11s — essentially whatever he wanted. Schlumpf had so many cars that he converted one of his mills into a giant museum/workshop and kept workers on to repair and maintain his impressive but very private collection. However, as the textile business began moving to Asia in the 70s, the workers began striking. Word got out that the boss had a secret collection of priceless cars purchased with their sweat. So they rioted. However, being French, once they smashed their way inside they were awed by the beauty of what they found. So, they kept the strike going for two years, forced Schlumpf into bankruptcy and turned his collection into a national museum.

One of the vehicles inside Schlumpf's converted mill was the seventh Royale. While not from the Bugatti factory, it can't be considered a replica as it was constructed using parts and tooling from the factory. Bugatti nerds referrer to the car — built to look like Jean's second body style, the Esder's Convertible — as the "Seventh of Six." As for Schlumpf, he and his brother were forced to flee to Switzerland. Legend maintains that a forlorn Schlumpf absconded with the sterling silver upright elephant hood ornament from the fourth Royale, all that he had left of his life's obsession. Do the man a solid and vote the Bugatti Type 41 into our Garage.

Be sure to click through this very copyrighted gallery. Pay special attention to the interiors.

Fantasy Garage: Delayed Until Friday

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 14 Nov 2007 12:15:00 EST

Yeah, so, due to general LA Auto Show hijinks that may or may not include mini-burgers, sushi, the MINI Clubman, human beat boxing, Miranda July, Bumbeck's shirt and free gin, we have to delay the Fantasy Garage until Friday. We do however promise that it will be a good one. A hint? Why sure, of course. It may be Italian. Or French. But definitely not German. But perhaps a touch English...

Voisin C28 Aerosport

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 07 Nov 2007 12:00:00 EST

Sadly, most people know next to nothing about the 1935 Voisin C28 Aerosport other than the painfully obvious: it looks fantastic. As much a design study as it is a glimpse into the future, the C28 Aerosport was nonetheless actually built and driven. Eight vehicles in fact (some claim only 3-4), though only one blue example remains today. Equally sad, the 1935 Aerosport was the very last vehicle designed personally by Gabriel Voisin even though he lived until 1973. Luckily the C28 Aerosport is not only his finest product but his most important. Before understanding why the car is so significant (and without doubt voting it straight into our Fantasy Garage), we're going to take a look at the man behind the car.

Born in 1880, Voisin's first love was not cars, but airplanes. Actually it was flying, as airplanes had not been invented yet. In 1905 he built a glider and had it towed behind a boat. He was airborne for about 500 feet before he crashed and almost drowned. The next year he and his brother Charles started the world's first aviation firm, Les Freres Voisin. He stopped building planes after WWI, traumatized that his creations were used to kill so many people. His admirable pacifism is our gain as he turned his mechanical mind to cars. Fantastically great cars in fact, favored and beloved by the wealthy and powerful (like the French President). In all, over 11,000 Voisins were made and sold before Gabriel lost control of the company just before WW2.

Applying much of what he learned from aviation to automobiles yielded Voisin some major advantages over the competition, principally in regards to weight and aerodynamics. Exactly like today, the way to make a vehicle lighter is to use materials other than pig iron and steel. All Voisins benefited from the use of exotic materials. Especially aluminum, the use of which was exceedingly rare at the time. Gabriel favored sleeve-valve engines as they were far quieter than motors with cams. Sure, they left behind a trail of white smoke, but that's a small price to pay for such silent luxury! Voisin built loads of different engines, ranging from early straight-fours to radial 7-bangers to cylinder-war inspired V12s, all of which featured sleeves. His cars were also quite safe for the era, as his brother and business partner Charles was killed in a car crash in 1912. Traumatized, passenger safety became a design mandate for all Voisins.

Gabriel and Charles Voisin

The C28 Aerosport came equipped with a 3.3-liter, 102-hp, sleeve-valve straight-6. Obviously, that's not a lot of power. The reason the car was fitted with such a relatively small motor was because it was produced at the height of the Great Depression. Faced with the awful choice of toning it down and building less wonderful cars, or staying the course, Voisin (thankfully) chose the latter. Honkin' V12s were the unfortunate economic casualties of his rather bold decision. And as Colin Chapman has popularized, more power isn't always the answer.

If power was to be sacrificed, another aspect must then make up for it. Enter advanced aerodynamics. Chrysler had taken a stab the year before with the much less aesthetically pleasing though quite radical Airflow. But in our opinion, the C28 Aerosport gets it right. All the modern touches are present, from the way the body is integrated with the fender wings in a "pontoon" form to the fastback rear end. Voisin raised the "catwalks," (the space between the fender peaks and the hood) farther than anyone before him dared. The headlights were in turn buried in the catwalks. And even though the Aerosport is more than 80-years-old, the face (despite the vertical grill) looks surprisingly contemporary. Compare it to the nose of the modern Rolls-Royce Phantom and see for yourself.

Other notable features include a vacuum controlled sliding roof, driver adjustable front and rear dampers and a preselector gearbox where the gear is first selected and then activated by pressing a pedal. Even if the C28 Aerosport didn't move at all we'd still want the sole copy to be included in our Garage. Long, low-slung and sleek with an insane attention to details (check out the triple wipers and the slatted bumpers) the C28 is another French heartbreaker. Knowing that its low weight and sophisticated aerodynamics make it an actual performer (100 mph in 1935 ain't shabby) only seals the deal. Plus it's stunning, simply, utterly stunning. Happy voting.

Commenter of the Day: Existential Crisis Edition

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 31 Oct 2007 17:45:00 EDT

We're sure it will come as a shock to no one that Davey G and I routinely debate Fantasy Garage nominations deep into the early morn. Even less shocking was Mr. Johnson's reaction to the Facel Vega HK500, which I believe he called, "A motherfucker of a car." Then we got to arguing about the various merits and demerits of other French l'automobiles. We were both initially torn between the Citroen SM and the HK500, though I eventually sided with the Facel Vega. Davey meanwhile went a step further and declared the streamlined Voisin C28 Aerosport to be the greatest French car ever. I countered that I'll take the Veyron, thank you. To which Davey replied that the Ferrari 308 is his favorite car, ever. That of course leads us to today's winning Commenter...

In today's ~~bitter arguing~~ discussion about whether or not the Facel Vega HK500 is awesome enough to park in our Garage, stu-rock opined:

Like many of the JFG nominees that don't get an overwhelming "yes" vote, this car is also in my own personal fantasy garage. As I do so often, I shake my head in disbelief at the 22% of you who just don't get it.

Count me in stu-rock's boat, as I'm sure it's a Riva.

Facel Vega HK500

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 31 Oct 2007 12:00:00 EDT

A man's work is nothing but this slow trek to rediscover, through the detours of art, those two or three great and simple images in whose presence his heart first opened.

—Albert Camus

The French are leaders in ashtray technology.

—Davey G. Johnson

In the annals of all that is car, certain vehicles stand out. Others tend to leap. A very select group however, reaches right into your chest, squeezes you around the heart and won't ever let go. The Facel Vega HK500 is such a machine and it's two clicks past high time we induct it into our Fantasy Garage.

I will always remember the first time I saw todady's nominee parked on the lawn at a small car show surrounded by Cobras, Jags and Ferraris. "This Jonny," lectured my old man, "Is a car." Even surrounded by all that automotive opulence, the 1959 HK500 indeed stood out. It had the beloved look of endless optimism just like American metal of the era (at the time, my 11-year-old mind could hardly stop thinking about '57 Bel Airs) yet that was cut with a svelte, almost subversive sense of European style. Despite the endless chrome, there were Bentleys, Jaguars and even Ferraris buried in them thar hilly curves. The Facel was alluring yet debonair, gorgeous yet butch, fantastically familiar but still outrageously exotic. In all honestly, I think seeing the HK500 that day forced me into French as opposed to Spanish in high school. Zut alors!

In 1954 metal-stamper Jean Daninos decided to recapture the former glory of the 1930s (the grande routiere as it were) and introduce a French luxury brand called Facel Vega. A few years prior his company Forges et Ateliers de Construction d'Eure-et-Loir — or FACEL for short — began supplying custom bodies to makes such as Panhard, Delahaye and Simca. This gave him enough capital to begin building cars of his own. And even though the fledging car company's slogan was, "For the Few Who Own the Finest," the initial cars were a bit short of the mark. The idea was solid enough. The first Facel (the FV1) was built around a tubular steel chassis (designed by Lance Macklin) with independent wishbones up front and a solid axle out back. The power came from a DeSoto 4.5-liter V8 and the looks were to die for. But something was missing.

That something was Chrysler Typhoon power! In a wonderful instance of synchronicity, Facel decided to match the hot looks of its car to some truly smoking grunt. And you just weren't going to find an adequate engine in post-war Europe. In came the type TY7 Typhoon motor (we'd call it a 392 Hemi in the States) with its 390-hp and 430 ft-lb of torque (though some sources quote up to 460 ft-lbs.) and out came one of the most astonishing cars ever: the Facel Vega HK500. Let's just put it this way, Stirling Moss owned one and he preferred to drive it from race to race as opposed to flying.

Sir Stirling Moss and his HK500

That much power and twist coupled to a 4-speed manual made the HK500 the fastest car in the world during its 4-year production run. For comparison's sake, the freakin' mad 1958 Chrysler 300C could push 140 mph. The Facel Vega HK500? 155 mph. Actually, like the torque figures, the numbers are all over the place according to the interwebs, ranging from 147 to 161mph. Suffice to say, the HK500 was damn fast and would most likely slaughter anything else on the road in its time. So fast in fact that Facel dumped the drum brakes found on the earlier models and fitted 4-wheel disks so that (relatively) safe high speed runs could be performed in the 2-ton beast.

Sadly, the Facel Vega HK500 is best known as the car that killed one of my favorite authors and thinkers, Albert Camus, who died in one on January 4, 1960. Many people mistakenly believe the HK500 belonged to Camus. The car in fact belonged to his publisher, Michel Gallimard, who drove the car into a tree. Camus, who disliked fast driving — often saying, "Hey, little friend, who's in a hurry?" was hurled from the vehicle and died instantly. The speedo was pegged at 90 mph. Interestingly, the manuscript for Camus's final work, Premier Homme, was found in a bag inside the car, though it wasn't published for another 35 years.

However, the list of people that owned an HK500 is still bloody impressive, as its $9,795 list price in 1958 guaranteed. Pablo Picasso, Ava Gardner, the aforementioned Sir Stirling Moss, Ringo Starr, Tony Curtis, Maurice Trintignant, Joan Fonatine, Danny Kaye, François Truffaut, and of course, countless Saudi royals. Only the Citroen SM has better lineage, what with seven examples being owned by the last King of Scotland himself, the ruthless (yet comical) Idi Amin.

I'm scratching my head trying to think of a reason not to vote the HK500 in. Honestly, I can't think of a single one. The car is fantastically rare (less than 500 HK500s were built), achingly beautiful, sports probably the most awesome interior in the history of cardom, goes like bat-guano-rubbed stink, has a Hemi, is in fact French and the name reminds you of an assault rifle. For reals, is there anything, anything at all not to absolutely love? The clear answer is no. And by no I mean vote yes. And be happy while you do so.

Toyota 2000GT

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 24 Oct 2007 11:30:00 EDT

Ever since Farago inaugurated the Fantasy Garage with the RUF RT12, you all have been clamoring for specific cars. "Where's the 250 GTO? (right here) Where's the E-type? (right here) Where's the ~~Tumbler~~ E39 M5?" (right here) And of course, "Where's the Toyota 2000GT?" As we grind down to the 50-car wire please be assured that there are certain no-brainer entries that will be put up to a vote. This being Japan Week, what better time than the present to (possibly) induct Japan's first supercar, the aforementioned Toyota 2000GT? Exactly, none.

When it debuted at the Tokyo Auto Show in 1965, Toyota's 2000GT set the world's view of Japan on its head. Before then, we knew that Japan liked to build cars, but the bulk of them (hell, all of them) left motoring enthusiasts asleep at the wheel. Most of the designs were heavily influenced (or stolen outright) by other car makers (see Subaru) and even those that were wholly original, were just barely above farm equipment in both driving dynamics and purpose. The 2000GT was a samurai sword to the face of that particular line of thought. Just 20 years after their shattering defeat in WW2, Japan was now showing the world a sports car that could take on the best Europe could offer in terms of both performance and sepuku-inducing good looks.

However, Toyota didn't do it alone. In fact, Toyota was hardly responsible for the 2000GT at all. The bulk of the heavy lifting was done by motorbike and piano maker Yamaha. Nissan was also planning a swift GT car and teamed with Yamaha to build it. The latter brought in German designer Albrecht Goertz (BMW 507 anyone?) to skin the car. We can only imagine how effing hot that collaboration would have been, but sadly the project was killed in 1964. Though an altered version did resurface a decade later as the 240Z. Luckily, Toyota invited Yamaha to help them build their own svelte GT, Using a design penned by Satoru Nozaki, the two firms agreed to build the project codenamed 280A.

From day one the plan was to beat the E-type. Jaguar had set the world on fire in 1961 with the Geneva reveal of its sexy phallus mit 4 wheels. It had the racing heritage, the power, the technology and the looks that absolutely slaughtered. However, the Japanese being the Japanese, took one look and determined that they could do it better. How do you improve upon perfection? Borrow a page (or three) from Colin Chapman. The 2000GT was to be lighter, smaller, more nimble and some will argue better looking. Damn hot, regardless. More importantly, the joint Toyota/Yamaha team looked at a wide range of sporty cars including the E-type, Porsche 911 and Lotus Elan. Ultimately they decided that the Elan's backbone chassis was the spot from which to pitch their tent.

Compared to the E-Type, the 2000GT is shorter, narrower and way lower. In fact, the car is only 45 inches tall. The pop up headlights were actually a result of a California law that required headlights be at least 2 feet from the ground. Those giant Cisitalia 202-inspired lights on the nose are just driving lights (though in the JDM only Sport 800 they function as the headlights). Like the Elan, the 2000GT was light, barely hitting the 2500 pound mark. It was also quite technically advanced for the time, and especially for a Japanese car. All four corners were independent of each other and featured unequal-length control arms. The steering was rack-and-pinion. The 2000GT was also the first Japanese car to feature 4-wheel disks and a limited slip differential.

The engine was a rodded version of the 2.0-liter inline-6 from the Crown sedan. Think of it as a mini-version of Jag's 3.8-liter straight-6 (they did). Yamaha fabricated an aluminum head complete with hemispherical chambers. They then fitted two chain-driven overhead camshafts. Feeding the mill were three twin-throat Mikuni-Solex carburetors. This setup produced 150 horses. While not exactly screaming (especially by today's standards), this was more than enough power to make the 2000GT the fastest car ever from Japan. Its 130 mph top speed was more than twice as fast as most other cars on the island nation. For those still not convinced, subbing in a set of Webbers quickly boosted the power to well over 200 hp.

Only 351 2000GTs were ever built (though some claim as few as 337). One side effect of the super low production numbers (less than say the Enzo) is that each car was hand made. From the engine to the body to the gorgeous interior to the hand etched, "leaded fuel only" on the standard racing fuel cap, the customer was getting a truly bespoke product. Sadly this was reflected in the price, which in 1967 was $1,000 more than the faster and more comfortable E-type (about $6,800). I still remember when Acura was launched my old man saying, "$20,000 for a Japanese car? Are they nuts?" And that was in the late-80s. Back in the mid-60s, Toyota had a huge mountain to climb.

Rest assured, it was worth every yen. Fully aware that part of the E-type's mystique was its racing heritage, Toyota began racing (and winning with) the 2000GT. In 1966 a 2000GT came in third in the Japanese Grand Prix. Another won the Fuji 24-hour event in 1967. Carroll Shelby even raced a pair of 2000GTs in SCCA competition. More importantly, the 2000GT set several FIA 1500 - 2000 cc class speed and 72-hour endurance records prompting Porsche to field the 911R specifically to beat Toyota.

But performance is hardly the reason we're nominating the 2000GT for the Fantasy Garage. As with most inhabitants, just bloody look at it. Cynics will say the shape is nothing more than a shrunken E-type, but they and there hard hearts are missing both the point and the glorious purity of one of the world's greatest ever designs. In fact, if you look long enough, you might even notice the starting point for the Ferrari Daytona (just add in a sprinkle of Datsun Z). The nearly bumper-less rear is frankly perfect, the swooping sides as sensual as those of any car you can think of while the front end is lusty,powerful and still able to wow us more than 40 years on. Want to make it a Bond car? Just hack off the top. Good on you, Toyota. Happy voting.

(Thanks to Harumph for the awesome pics — and Bumbeck for the equally righteous gallery shots)

The Jalopnik Fantasy Garage, So Far:
RUF RT12 | 1978 Aston Martin V8 Vantage | Honda 1300 Coupe 9 | 1931 Daimler Double Six 50 Corsica Drophead Coupe | Ferrari 288 GTO | Chevrolet Corvette ZR-1 | 1970 Buick GSX 455 | First Generation BMW M Coupe | Bugatti Veyron 16.4 | Ford GT | Citroen SM | Porsche 928 | Jensen FF | DeTomaso Vallelunga | Audi Quattro S1 | Buick GNX | Nissan Skyline R34 GT-R | Honorary Fantasy Garager: The LS1 Powered Rotus | Lamborghini LM002 | Shelby Cobra Daytona Coupe | Ferrari 250 GTO | Bentley Speed Six | Talbot-Lago T150C SS Figoni et Falaschi Raindrop/Teardrop Coupe | Porsche 917 | Audi RS4 Avant || Lamborghini Miura | Mercedes-Benz 450SEL 6.9 | BMW E39 M5 | Jaguar E-type | Mercedes-Benz 300 SL | Dodge Charger/Challenger R/T

Dodge Family Feud: And the Winner is... Both!

Jonny Lieberman — Thu, 18 Oct 2007 15:15:00 EDT

Good news everyone! ~~Atomic supermen with octagonal-shaped bodies, that suck blood through straws out your...~~ It looks as if the people have spoken, and spoken correctly for a change! In case you forgot, the Fantasy voting was so close yesterday, and both Mopars are so damn desirable, we said that after 24-hours if the gap between the two was 3% or less, both cars get in. Let me just double check the math:

51.2%
- 48.8%
= 2.4%

And, we are pretty sure that 2.4% is less than 3%, so both the Charger R/T and the Challenger R/T are permanent members of the Jalopnik Fantasy Garage! And by the power of ~~Grayskull~~ raw "because I say so," the two Dodges will share a single spot. Reality be damned.

Dodge Family Feud: In The Event Of A Tie...

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 17 Oct 2007 15:45:00 EDT

Wow, the Charger R/T and the Challenger R/T are running neck and neck. As of typing the Charger sits at 142 votes while the Challenger is nipping it's heals with 140. How does this sound to you: ~~Let's get all hopped up on Benzedrine and race a Charger against a Challenger from New York to California~~ If the differential remains within 3% between the two JFG candidates, we'll bend the rules and stick 'em both in. We're pretty sure we can fit an extra spot. Maybe we can rip out the bathroom... [UPDATE: polls close tomorrow at noon, so tell your friends.]

Dodge Family Feud: Charger R/T Vs. Challenger R/T

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 17 Oct 2007 12:00:00 EDT

We know; today is going to be rough. Ever since the 1970 Buick GSX 455 ~~robbed the Judge~~ edged out the other the other three GM big blocks for a spot in our Fantasy Garage there have been howls for 440 Six Packs, 426 Hemis and general Mopar R/T madness. Well friends, today is your feast. As always, caveat emptor, for we only have 50 parking spots in this Garage of ours. As worthy as both these mad machines are, only one is getting in. Since our first introduction to each car was via celluloid, we thought we'd employ the magic of Hollywood to plead each car's case. Yeah, exactly, we're talking Bullitt and Vanishing Point. Hey, it worked for the 450SEL 6.9. One final point, we know we're leaving out the 'Cudas. And we're sorry.

Dodge Charger R/T

In the mid-1960s the Dodge boys had to stand aside and watch as Pontiac sold tens of thousands of GTOs. Not surprisingly, Dodge dealers were pissed. Chrysler President Lynn Townsend (the man behind the Pentastar) called Dodge's chief engineer Burt Bouwkamp into his office and demanded a solution, adding, "for God's sake don't make it a derivative of the Barracuda." Bouwkamp and his team followed the order and in 1965 presented the Charger II Show Car. If the public liked it, the thinking went, Dodge would build it. As Bouwkamp said, "It was pre-ordained that they would like it." Dodge went on to build the Charger, selling 37,344 in six months. However, added competition from the Chevy Camaro and Ford Mustang saw total sales for all of 1967 drop to less than 16,000 units. A redesign was ordered.

The resulting car was the 1968-1970 B-body, quite simply one of the baddest looking machines ever built. While the previous version had all the right go-fast stuff (including the introduction of the 426 Street Hemi) it looked frumpy. Not so for the new model, as Dodge's stylists knocked the sinister-look ball out of the park and into the next millennium, where the car continues to blow minds and take numbers. That's owed to its seductive double-diamond or "coke bottle" styling, where the body bulged out at the front and rear quarters. Think about it: how much time did you spend as a child fondling a Hot Wheels General Lee? We bet a lot.

Like all great muscle cars, the Charger didn't just look hot, it frigging flew. Power came from a variety of engines, but only two matter in today's context: the please-mod-me 440 Six Pack Magnum and the 426 Hemi with its insane compression ratio straight from the factory. We know the Hemi had the power advantage (supposedly), pulling 433.5 horses on the dyno in 1965 (the factory claimed 425). but Bill Hickman, the baddie in Bullitt, hooned the 440. Long story short, we wish we had tough decisions like this in front of us nowadays. How does this sound — if the Charger R/T makes it into the Garage, just imagine it comes stuffed with your favorite engine, as it really don't matter. And if you like, just debate it in the comments.

Let's take a closer look at the Bullitt Charger. First, the (awesome) Mustang(s) that McQueen drove were actually heavily modified cars. Here's what Max Balchowsky, the guy responsible for modifying and maintaining all the Bullitt vehicles had to say:

I was really impressed with the Mustang after I got done with it. I didn't think it'd make that much difference beefing it up. Later, we took both cars out and went playing around with them over by Griffith Park (near Los Angeles). The Dodge, which was practically stock, just left the Mustang like you wouldn't believe.

And he wasn't the only one to notice how the Charger beat up on the Mustang. Ron Riner was the Transportation Coordinator for Warner Brothers. He purchased the two triple-black Charger R/T 440 Magnums at a dealer in Glendale:

The Charger ran rings around the Mustang. We trimmed the tires down (on the Charger), we practically made them down to bicycle tires to try and handicap Hickman, and Bill just run them.

Man, today is tough.

Dodge Challenger R/T

But on the other hand, you have the Challenger. For half a decade Dodge dealers had to bend over and take the fact that Ford was selling millions of Mustangs while they had no pony car whatsoever. To compound the injury, Chevy had its Camaro, Pontiac had the Firebird and even cousin Plymouth was raking in the youth market duckets with its Barracuda. Hell, even Mercury had the Cougar. All of that changed in 1970 when Chrysler, saving (maybe) the best muscle car for last, green-lighted a Dodge version of its new E-body chassis. And man oh man, was a legend ever born.

Like its big brother Charger, the Challenger was available with a raft of engine choices, but again the only two we care about are the 426 Hemi and the 440 Six Pack Magnum. Same power, too, but the smaller Challenger was lighter and more nimble. Performance, for the time, was massive, with zero-to-60 times right around six seconds and the quarter-mile happening in the mid 13s. And with decent tires, the times dropped. The Challengers looked the part, too, with their sleek snouts and bulging, slightly jacked up haunches. Designer Carl Cameron actually borrowed the design for the grill from a sketch of a '66 Charger he drew that was to be turbine-powered. We love that.

But you just can't talk about think about the Dodge Challenger without a close examination of Vanishing Point and the car meant to the film. For those who haven't seen the Barry Newman original, slap yourself. Then, bookmark this page, go rent it then watch it. Finished? Good. And now you know that for no reason other than the fact that he can do it, Kowalski jumps into his white "supercharged" Challenger and decides to drive from Denver to San Francisco solo in 15 hours. While hopped up on goofballs. Why did you climb the mountain? Because it was there.

For years the rumor mill has prolifically churned out all sorts of speculation as to what exactly Kowalski was driving. For certain it was a white Challenger with a Hurst four-speed. One camp maintained that there was in fact some sort of special, also hopped up, supercharged Mopar mill under the hood. Sadly, that's just not so. Vanishing Point featured five different Challengers (and a doomed Camaro!) in the role of Kowalski's ride (though oddly at one point Newman claimed there were nine cars). Four had 440 Magnums, while one had a 383 with a three-speed slusher.

Many people (me nearly included) consider the chase scene in Bullitt to be the greatest ever. However, where Bullitt is only an — admittedly — good movie that just happened to feature an eye-popping chase sequence, Vanishing Point is nothing but a car chase. And, paradoxically, anything but a car chase. America was near the bloody end of the Vietnam War and the young not ~~white~~ privileged enough to get a college deferment were being drafted and slaughtered in an essentially meaningless old man's war. At the same time the politics of the day seemed hopeless and the idealism of the 60s had crashed and burned. Vanishing Point then, was an expression of disgust, a shot across the bow of the status quo. With car as metaphor. And of course, the car chosen to vent this rage was the mighty Challenger. Kawolski's ticket to ride, man.

Maybe you're not feeling it: the hunger for freedom, the raw angst, that generations' damaged zeitgeist. One of my favorite moments from Die Hard was when Agent Johnson shouts to Agent Johnson, "YEEEEEEEEEE HAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!! Just like fucking Vietnam!" To which Agent Johnson replies, "I was in junior high, dickhead." I want to leave you with a poem by W.S. Merwin that I'm hope will shed a little light:

Losing a Language
A breath leaves the sentences and does not come back
yet the old still remember something that they could say

but they know now that such things are no longer believed
and the young have fewer words

many of the things the words were about
no longer exist

the noun for standing in mist by a haunted tree
the verb for I

the children will not repeat
the phrases their parents speak

somebody has persuaded them
that it is better to say everything differently

so that they can be admired somewhere
farther and farther away

where nothing that is here is known
we have little to say to each other

we are wrong and dark
in the eyes of the new owners

the radio is incomprehensible
the day is glass

when there is a voice at the door it is foreign
everywhere instead of a name there is a lie

nobody has seen it happening
nobody remembers

this is what the words were made
to prophesy

here are the extinct feathers
here is the rain we saw

However you end up voting, you're picking a hell of a car whose Fantasy Garage credentials are unimpeachable. And just because Vanishing Point moves me into the realm of existential bliss/terror, I don't want to take anything away from the poetry of Bullitt and the righteous Charger R/T. In fact, Davey does a bang up job of explaining exactly that here. We know it's a difficult choice. And we'll take either one in ~~Statutory Grape~~ Plum Crazy. Happy voting.

The Jalopnik Fantasy Garage, So Far:
RUF RT12 | 1978 Aston Martin V8 Vantage | Honda 1300 Coupe 9 | 1931 Daimler Double Six 50 Corsica Drophead Coupe | Ferrari 288 GTO | Chevrolet Corvette ZR-1 | 1970 Buick GSX 455 | First Generation BMW M Coupe | Bugatti Veyron 16.4 | Ford GT | Citroen SM | Porsche 928 | Jensen FF | DeTomaso Vallelunga | Audi Quattro S1 | Buick GNX | Nissan Skyline R34 GT-R | Honorary Fantasy Garager: The LS1 Powered Rotus | Lamborghini LM002 | Shelby Cobra Daytona Coupe | Ferrari 250 GTO | Bentley Speed Six | Talbot-Lago T150C SS Figoni et Falaschi Raindrop/Teardrop Coupe | Porsche 917 | Audi RS4 Avant || Lamborghini Miura | Mercedes-Benz 450SEL 6.9 | BMW E39 M5 | Jaguar E-type | Mercedes-Benz 300 SL

Excelero: Out!

Jonny Lieberman — Wed, 17 Oct 2007 11:15:00 EDT

Once again the masses have spoken. And once again I'm saddened by their voice. Not devastated or anything like that. But I really dig the buck-toothed 'Bach. But hey, that's democracy for you. So, the extreme dream machine that Maybach never deigned to build will be parking out on the street behind the Quattroporte and the Phaeton W12. Yet somehow the RUF soldiers on. C'est la vie. At least we got to hold onto the Honda. Sleep well, Excelero and we'll see you back here in 9 more weeks!

Today's The Day: Vote One Fantasy Out

Jonny Lieberman — Mon, 15 Oct 2007 10:45:00 EDT

I think we all know why we're here. Furthermore, I think we all know what we need to do. In case you missed it, you can catch up on it here. This is starting to sound like an Old Spice commercial. Actually, much like that Old Spice commercial, these cars ought to have it. The one that doesn't, doesn't. Happy voting.