When the Mazda Miata-based boat-car debuts, it'll be the first major amphibious civilian vehicle since the Amphicar went to market in 1961. The three seat Aquada will be able to hit 110 MPH on the street and about 40 MPH or 35 knots on the water and will sell for about $85,000. Production location has not be set yet, but Michigan is also high on the list for that one as well. We're just wondering how the insurance companies would handle water damage on an amphibious car. [Detroit News]

SSC claims they're working on a revolutionary power source that allows for up to several years between charging. We're assuming that they mean several years of actual use, and not just sitting around. Because, you know, we can put some fuel stabilizer in our car, park it, and not have to fill up for a while too. So, is this vaporware or soon-to-be-reality?

Jalopnik Snap Judgement: Everyone thought SSC was full of crap when the company announced they made the fastest car in the world, but it turns out they actually did. So maybe they really do have some tricks up their sleeve. We'll know more when the first prototypes roll out in February 2009. [Shelby SuperCars]

Perhaps the second-gen Mercury Cougar took such a beating from the Volvo in yesterday's matchup because most folks much prefer the styling of the first-gen 1967-70 models. If so, today's cat might have a better chance, because it's a 1970 model (go here if the ad disappears), though it does have a semi-hot-rodded Windsor 302 in place of the (arguably) superior 351 Cleveland. Wait a second- does this car have a five-speed and a posi 9" Ford rear with a price tag of just 1,200 bucks? How can that be? Well, for starters, it's missing "grill, tail lights, int, dash, ect," and we're pretty sure those JC Whitney leaf spring shackles are there to shore up hopelessly saggy rear springs.

It's pretty tough to fit a 429 or 460 in a Cougar- sure, Ford managed to do it, but the parts you'll need to make it happen in your garage aren't exactly clogging up the junkyards these days. An early-70s Torino or Montego, on the other hand, is no sweat when it comes to big-block fun, as their Malaise-bloated commodious lines needed were ideally suited for big-block power. And what have we here? A '72 Ford Torino GT (go here if the ad disappears) in nice, not-so-rusty condition for a mere $3,600. It's got a factory tach, bench seat, and a 429 engine that "did run when it was pulled from the car several years ago" in place of the now-long-gone original 351W. You also get a "C7" automatic, which might be a rare Ford prototype unit. Come on, how hard could it be? OK, cast your vote, then read Graverobber's addition to the PCH Tirade™ Canon!

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No, the car for you is the Torino. You've been eyeing them in the papers and online for years, and now is the time to pull the trigger. Why are you so keen on a Torino? Because you are obsessed with The Road Warrior and are looking to emulate Mad Max and drive around in his black Interceptor, telling people G'day and drinking Foster's. But you're not just obsessed, you spend almost every waking moment thinking about Mel Gibson in his tattered leathers, snaking along lonely back roads and desert highways seeking vengeance on wrongdoers. This is why you've moved your family to the high desert of the American southwest, as it's the most Aussie-like place you feel you can live. Since you live in the States, and can't easily import an Australian XB GT Ford Falcon Coupe, a Torino will have to do.

So you head out to Mesa and talk the seller down to $2500. Packing everything up in your trailer you head home, dreaming of eight side pipes, roof wing and a Concorde nose for the car. Getting home, the first thing you do is have it painted black. Not just black however, but the black of the soul of a rouge aussie biker. You drop in a proper 351 and add a Weiand blower that you also found on craigslist. A hole punched through the hood clears the gaping maw of the Scott injector hat. Pulling out the back window, you add massive fuel tanks to feed this beast, and as the coup de grâce you hand-fashion the Concorde nose out of fiberglass and aluminum mesh. You're tribute is nearly complete, and it is a thing of ominous beauty!

One thing that you don't take into consideration is the enormous thirst for high-octane fuel of the blown motor. It's so bad that you're on a first name basis with the guy that runs the only gas station in the desert who sells 100-proof racing gas. You take 55-gallon drums to the station to fill so you won't have to rely on the vagaries of his distributor to keep that thirsty v8 fed.

It's on one of these trips for fuel and supplies (Slim Jims and Cactus Cooler 6-packs) that things start to go wrong. While standing in the back of your pickup, filling a drum with racing gas, you notice a rough, black-painted motorcycle parked near the station entrance. Sitting on the back is an effete-looking young dude with flowing blond hair and a dog collar. Inside the gas station the bike's pilot is having an animated discussion with FiFi, the owner. You guess that FiFi is telling him that you've bought the last of the 100 octane - as the pump clicks off and you thread the cap back on the drum - and the guy doesn't like that. He comes storming out of the station, and you can see that he's wearing some sort of leather chaps/loincloth combo, and sports a rather lurid mix of a mohawk and eyeliner that makes him appear to be a refugee from a Judas Priest groupie brigade. He runs toward you and leaps on top of the near-by pumps. Youoooo! he fairly hisses, pointing at you as though to mark you. You took the gas! You take it, we kill you! Kill you! Kill! Kill! You can run, but you can't hide! Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! And with that he jumps to his bike, starting it, throwing it into gear and peeling out of the station in one fell swoop. You stand there dazed, staring at the black stripe left on the apron. After a minute, you regain your composure and head for home.

While driving through town, you notice more graffiti than you remember. And a lot of stores are closed and boarded up. Down a few blocks and you see there are overturned cars and flaming barrels of trash. Things have really gotten bad while you were working on the Torino and you mutter to yourself - should have voted for Obama I guess. Getting home you are greeted by your wife who is frantic and crying. What's the matter? you ask, brushing back a lock of her curly brown hair from her forehead. Oy she says, your gander's dead.You look at her in horror. Not your gander. Not the beloved pet of your youth. You kept him in the backyard, in the pond, and have had him for most of your life. Now you run back there, your wife running behind you screaming No! Don't look, it's too 'orrible! You find him next to the pond, burned beyond recognition. Holding your hand to his throat you check for a pulse. Not finding one, you try another spot. His neck is really long so this takes a while, but you eventually convince yourself that he is dead. Standing up you look away from the body not willing to accept that your treasured fowl is no more. He lived a good lifeyour wife offers, trying to comfort you. You turn away- That... THING... is NOT my goose! you shout at her, pointing at the still-smoking corpse. Still reeling from the day's events, you eat him for dinner, but the pain lingers and despite his crisp skin and moist, succulent meat, you can't fully enjoy the meal. You go out to the garage and slide under the back of the Torino. There you check on the machete secreted next to the factory tank, and flip the switch on the booby trap. Then you hit the hay early and suffer a fitful night of sleep.
In the early morning, you are jarred awake by what sounds like a squadron of F18s outside of your house. You run to the front window, your wife - cradling your son right on your tail. Out the window, you can't believe your eyes- the house is surrounded by junker cars, most of which have some sort of projectile weapon crudely mounted on top, behind these circle an endless number of dunebuggies and motorcycles, each piloted by the most heinous, dirty, evil-looking scum of the earth imaginable.

At the center of the melee is an enormous, dual-engine, six-tired monstrosity of a truck, and atop that is a man that looks like a pale incarnation of Arnold Schwarzenegger, wearing a hockey mask and a pleather speedo. A small man wearing some sort of raccoon runs up and shouts Greetings from the Humungous. The Lord Humungous. The warrior of the wasteland. The ayatollah of rockin' rollah!

You can't believe this is happening, and think back to your college philosophy professor who told you that karma was a very real phenomenon and that you should be careful about what you wished for, as it may come to pass, but not in the manner you wanted. Humungous stands and addresses the house through a megaphone: There has been too much violence, too much pain. We want the gas. Give it to us and you shall live. Just walk away and there will be an end to the horror. Just walk away.

Overhead you hear the sound of angry bees and look up to see an autogyro passing in the sky. Making eye contact with the lanky pilot, he shakes his head as if to say You're on your own and flies off over the horizon.

Geez, you think to your self, I'm in some pretty deep diggery doo. What'll we do? your wife shouts as the baby cries in her arms. How'll we get out of here?! You think for a moment, and then you hit upon a plan. Get the baby seat you tell her, and take it to the garage. You run into the bedroom and open a box that has been at the very back of your closet. From it you pull a pair of leather pants and a jacket. It's a struggle to fit into them, as you're a middle-aged American male and have been fattened up by corporate America intent on one day turning you into Soylent Green, but somehow you fit. Running to the garage you hear a scratching at the back door. You grab a tire iron and throw open the door, ready to wage violence upon whoever is there. Instead of a foe, a dog runs into the house. He's a mottled brown and tan and is wearing a red bandanna around his neck. You recognize him at once as a dingo and shout come on boy, let's go! He jumps into the Torino, turns and faces out the passenger side window and begins to bark ferociously.
You slide under the back of the car and flip off the booby trap. Pulling yourself up you meet your wife's eye from the window. Oy! She says, and spells "Crazy about you" in sign language to you. Since you never learned sign, you look at her quizzically and then leap into the driver's seat of the ebony interceptor, it's lowered nose pointed eastward at the garage door and towards the rising sun. You hope your wife understands the plan. You hope that the circling hoard take the bait. Hope is all you have.

Giving the dingo's head a shake, you turn the key and the big motor leaps to life. The eight side pipes flame with un-burned fuel, and the blower whines like a dentist's drill. You throw it in gear and punch it. Instantaneously you are thrown back in your seat, and into daylight as the car blows through the aluminum door and onto the driveway. You have a fairly clear shot, as most of the freak show has parked on the front lawn, likely due to their mostly being from Fontana.

You dodge a dunebuggy, catching one of its wheels and sending it flipping into a ditch ejecting the driver who's head is removed by the roll bar as he is violently thrown out. Shooting across the lawn, you snag the corner of a tent in the encampment, pulling it off of two grungy fornicating freaks. They shake their fists at you and the woman manages to pop off a couple of .38 rounds in your direction, all the while as they continue to be attached at the hip, humping furiously. The dingo barks at them and provides his own "lipstick salute."

Over the curb and on the road you look in the rearview to see the hoard turning to pursue you. Behind them, you see your wife, in her yellow van heading in the opposite direction, and no one following her. Your plan is working.

Hitting the highway you open her up. This is the first chance you've really had to enjoy the car and you marvel at the power and the noise uttering forth from beneath the hood.

The maddening hoard is right on your tail, led by the biker with the mohawk and his Andy Gibb look-alike friend. You floor it, but his bike is fast too and he maneuvers up next to your right-rear wheel. He has some sort of cross-bow on his wrist, and he's trying to shoot barbs into the tire. Watching in the side-view, you time his attack and at the right moment tap the brakes. He fires the arrows, which miss the tire, but lodge in the gunwall of the car. The silver shafts penetrate the interior, and the dingo bites and growls at them. Looking in the mirror, you realize that they were on cables, and the biker is now attached by them to your car! Pulling up the red lever next to the shifter, you engage the nitrous, and gain a few hundred horsepower. The bike can't keep up and both the rider and his compatriot are pulled from their mount and dragged under the massive crush of your rear tire. You feel the car lurch as you run over them, you hear metal crush, bone snap and flesh rend from tendon as they're turned into crow food. Looking back after the carnage you see two of your pursuers swerve to avoid the tangle of bike and rider and slam into the abutments on either side of the road sending their occupants into the Joshua trees and certain demise.

You think you're out of the woods by now, flying down the valley floor at 150 miles per hour, the dingo with his head hanging out the window looks like caricature as the wind whips his jowls into an unearthly smile.

Suddenly you're thrown forward and the car swerves from side to side. It's all you can do to regain control and you've lost a lot of speed. You check the mirror and there, right on your tail, is Humungous in the twin-engined nightmare. Two of his minions are crawling forward on it, swinging chains each with a mace on the end. One swings his and catches the lip of the trunk opening, and pulls it tight. You gas it and yank him off of the front of the monstrosity and onto the rough macadam. His hand is wrapped around the chain as he's dragged behind you, bouncing violently. He first loses his pants, which flap up and into the face of the second minion still riding the grill of your pursuer. Flipping on his back to save his manhood from being scraped off, he looses both buttcheeks to the road, and eventually is pulled under Humungous and to his death. He is replaced on the front of the truck by another who is armed with a cross bow, which is now aimed at your head. The dingo barks out the back window at him, and you remember your "secret weapon". You flip open the glove box and pull out a sawed off double-barrel shotgun. Holding it back over your shoulder, you're nearly deafened by the explosions, and the dingo ducks down and returns to barking after the shot. In the rearview you see the minion with the crossbow standing on the front bumper of the following truck looking down at where his stomach used to be. It has been replaced by your shotgun blast with a hole the size of a grapefruit and he falls forward where he is caught by the front tire. Somehow unable to un-snag the corpse, he spins around and around causing the vehicle to bounce and to slow and fall off pace. Overhead, the gyrocopter reappears and drops Molotov cocktails onto Humungous, who fires a .357 at him in retaliation. The gyro-man loses control and falls to the desert floor.

This is your chance you realize. There's enough space between you and humungous, and the following hoards as you pull to the right, scraping the shoulder and describing an arc across the two-lane. Humungous, too far behind to attack, can only follow. You head back down the desert road, returning in the direction from which you just came. Hitting the nitrous again the wheels squeal to gain grip as you are thrown back in your seat from the monstrous acceleration. Humungous, thinking he has you trapped and not wanting to loose the chase does the same and leaps forward spilling minions backwards and leaving a trail of smoke.

Sailing down the road at 170 you face wall to wall freak-mobiles baring down on you. Behind you, their leader is gaining on you as well, the gap closing by the second. You pass the wreckage of the biker and look over at your companion. The dingo, panting in the passenger seat, looks at you and, as though he can read your mind, dives to the floorboard and braces against the firewall. You put on your seatbelt.

You return your attention to the task at hand and bury the go pedal in the black carpet, giving it all she's got. The distance between you and the hoard is closing. That between you and Humungous is even closer- 100 feet, 75, 50... At the very last possible instant, you throw the wheel sideways, the tires scream for grip and you rocket off of the road and into weeds. Hitting the soft sand you dig-in and flip end over end over end. Your head feels like you've had too many Mojitos and then was put in a blender, and you taste dirt and copper in your mouth.

Your amazing maneuver is so unexpected it leaves Humungous momentarily dazed, and that is enough. LOOK OUT screams the minions on the hood as they barrel down on the closing hoard. Humungous' eyes literally pop out of his mask as the truck slams head-on into the racing collection of road flotsam. A fireball erupts from the macadam and the conflagration envelopes them completely. Flaming body parts are strewn across the road, soon to be fodder for coyotes.

You awake to the dingo licking your face, and your initial thought is good dog but then you realize that he was licking the blood off your face and had you stayed passed out much longer he might have eaten your face off. Go on! you tell him, and extract yourself from the wreak. Surveying the damage you see that it's not as bad as you had expected, and the car might even be drivable once back on its wheels. Walking to the back, you hold your hand under the stream pouring from the overturned fuel drum. Sand. Many miles away your wife and son would have the fuel, hidden in the van, driven to safety. They would be able to barter it for food and shelter in this crazy new world. They would be alright. They would travel far beyond the reach of men on machines and you will never see them again, you will live only in their memories. You have been reborn on this road today. Not just a mid-level pencil-pusher. No longer a waspy guy with a beer gut. No more just a Jalopnik commenter, you are now, and forever will be known as...The Road Warrior.

Details are sketchy, but the Star claims J.D. Power sources say suppliers are gearing up for an iteration of the Two-Mode Hybrid system used on the upcoming Durango/Aspen hybrids and shared with the Tahoe/Yukon hybrid. The report also states that a hybrid Toyota "Sierra" (which we're pretty sure means "Sienna") van is scheduled for 2010, and that diesel minivans from Honda and VW are on the near horizon.

Chrysler's foray into more-efficient vans could be as much for the company as for the consumer, since Chrysler remains near the back of the pack on total fleet fuel efficiency. Adding a hybrid van to the mix would be an effective (if expensive, on the order of $4,000 per unit) way to bump up CAFE numbers while older, larger models are being retooled or dropped completely.

Unlike Chrysler with its Two-Mode, and Toyota, who will presumably use a version of its Hybrid Synergy Drive in the Sienna Hybrid, Honda and VW are likely to exploit their diesel expertise in the Odyssey and Routan, respectively. Honda is reportedly readying a diesel Accord for 2009, providing it with a federally approved oilburner that could be used in Odyssey, while VW has access to its own diesels (which would be a bit small for minivan use) as well as the Mercedes Bluetec unit.

If the idea of a hybrid Grand Caravan or an Odyssey with 400 lb-ft of torque doesn't get you excited, hey, that's okay. What should get you excited is what's on display here: More evidence of the powertrain variety we can expect around the 2010/2011 model year. [Windsor Star]

If General Motors' global sales don't increase above their final tally of 9,369,524 for 2007, and Toyota actually hits their reduced number, Toyota wins. More ominously, GM hasn't provided a forecast for 2008 sales; given the thinly veiled sense of panic around the RenCen these days, there's concern that year-over-year sales figures could remain stagnant enough to allow Toyota to take the top spot.

As always, don't count out the power of cash incentives. We know the General too well to assume they won't toss a "buy a Yukon, get an Aveo for a dollar!" two-for-one promotion into the mix come November. GM for the win! And, as always, the eventual loss. [Automotive News (Sub. Req.)]

This Radical is designed to provide the maximum performance and fuel economy 25 MPG & Daimler Chrysler reliability that Radical is known the world over for. It was designed with one objective - to provide the ultimate driving experience & fun & exoticness!

The engine in this Radical Indy car was professionally built by Chrysler Services which is one of the premier racing engine facilities in the country. The engine has virtually 4500 miles.

I'm not one of those guys (and they're all guys) who blindly worship every mark that the dope-palsied hand of Hunter S. Thompson ever set on paper, but when the man was on, he was really on (insert rant here about annoying HST wannabes who focus on the lifestyle instead of the writing). Fear And Loathing On The Campaign Trail '72 stands as one of the finest works of American political journalism ever written. It's so good, in fact, that we can disregard all the weaker stuff Thompson wrote when he became a parody of himself in later years and lost the ability to meet any sort of deadline. In the book, Thompson refers to several vehicles he drove while covering the 1972 presidential race, and since the current contest features a pair of candidates who differ as widely as Richard M. Nixon and George McGovern did back then, it seems only right to grab a couple of the cars from the book for today's challenge.

Thompson rented an "Auto/Stick Cougar" in Washington DC, a car "built by junkies to teach the rest of us a lesson." While it's possible that rental car companies were using '71 or maybe even '73 models in the fall of 1972, we're going to assume it was a '72 and go with this 1972 Mercury Cougar, which is priced at a price that will inspire very little fear or loathing: a thousand bucks! The seller figures it's best to let the grainy, ill-focused photos tell the whole story, with "72 cougar,351ci-runs-needs some work" being the only description. But what more do you need? You'll be spitting hot black divots all over the road when you get a 460 in this thing!

Thompson arrived in DC behind the wheel of a brand-new Volvo wagon issued to him by Rolling Stone; there's no mention of whether it was a boring ol' 145 or a snazzy 1800ES, so we're going with the latter option. Yes, you'll suddenly find yourself aiming a .44 Magnum at the Mojo Wire as it beeps, beeps, beeps for more copy once you buy this 1972 Volvo 1800ES... well, no you won't, because you'll need to get it running before you head off to stalk cover the '08 candidates. The transmission went bad last year and it hasn't run since, but the driver alleges that the engine "ran good" up to that point. There's rust. Parts are hard to find. Your project will be nothing next to what faces the guy who wins the ticket to the Oval Office, however, so keep that in mind as you shout into the phone to "Big Sven," your parts man in Malmö.

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[Jay Leno's Garage]

As far as propulsion, Lutz likes electricity and isn't so keen on diesel. "The future of the vehicle is electrification." In the meantime, however, GM will focus on small, flex-fuel, direct-injection four-cylinder gasoline engines, while offering diesels. Lutz noted that diesels are subjected to far more extreme emissions requirements in the US, adding 2-3k in cost while deteriorating the economy advantages, all of which may be true, but we'd still like to have the option of deciding for ourselves.

Lutz reiterated GM's support for the extended-range EV concept as seen in the Volt, while alluding to the possibility of vehicles with an on-board engine that existed solely to charge batteries, a-la diesel/electric locomotives.

In product news:

—A 1.4L turbo gasoline engine will power the Chevy Cruze at its 2010 launch, with a target highway economy of more that 40 MPG.

—Regarding Saturn, "We like the brand, we think it's a good brand," said Lutz, noting that Saturn tends to attract a different kind of buyer — just not enough of them. Aura sales are gaining momentum, and Lutz claims the decision not to replace it with an Insignia vehicle was simply a decision not to short-cycle the current design.

—The Buick Invicta will see a Spring 2009 launch, basically simultaneous in the US and China; the name will likely not be Invicta, however.

—The Chevy Beat cannot be made compatible with US crash regulations without significant investment in time and money, and as such will not appear on these shores.

—GMC will benefit from GMC versions of smaller crossovers; don't expect a GMC passenger car, but do look for GMC entries that are crossover in nature but smaller than Acadia, and equipped with 4-cylinder engines. Lutz stated that GMC has new products in the pipeline but did not elaborate further.

Dear friends of d'Ignorance, Thank you so much for your support so far in our effort to highlight the Mundane and truly Awful of the Automotive world. We have decided to wait until 2009 to inflict our show upon the automotive world. Flint Michigan was not built in a day and neither is a first rate Concours. With my grueling and ever expanding Billetproof schedule I simply did not have the time to pull together a show truly awful enough to do the bottom rung of the automotive world justice in 2008. The Concours d'Ignorance will have a presence on the Monterey Peninsula this year, so keep an eye out for something awful. We will be conducting a brand awareness campaign here and there at many of the car shows during the week. The show in 2009 will be something that even the designer of the Pontiac Aztec could be proud of. Just you wait and see.

The new Opel models will be built alongside the Chevy Volt atop the Delta II platform at GM's Hamtramck Assembly plant.

Jalopnik Snap Judgement: More models on the line makes sense as the Ham-town plant would be sorely underutilized if only building the Volt. Seems like the real story here is GM Europe using the US domestic market for labor. One would imagine Eastern European countries would be more attractive for building new models, but the dollar's valuation apparently makes up for the long product pipeline and higher shipping costs. Who would have thunk we'd become Europe's China? [MotorAuthority]

In 1961, Dwight D. Eisenhower popularized the term "Military-Industrial Complex" in his farewell address, but what about the Rust-Missing Parts Complex that dominates your typical 1961 Hell Project? You'll have an even more tenuous connection to your sanity than Eisenhower does to Project Car Hell when you peel off 45 Benjamins to obtain this pair of 1961 Lincoln Continental convertibles. Some of you quitters might take one look at those photos and figure there's no way in hell anyone could ever make even one nice car out of those heaps, but that's like looking at the plans for the Bay Of Pigs invasion and saying it could never work! What if Ike had done that? The seller claims these two '61s are "90 to 100% complete," and that each car has "low original mileage." You see? Easy! At most you'll be chasing down 10% of the parts that make up an automobile, and how hard could that be? You could make one car and use the other for parts, or go for broke- literally- and restore them both.

Is it fair to make anything American- even a two-for-one deal- face off against a French car in a Choose Your Eternity challenge? Maybe not, but we're going to give Detroit a shot at a stunning upset over the perennial PCH Champeen today; just imagine that Project Car Hell trophy sitting in the lobby of Ford's HQ... in a mound of kitty litter, to catch all the leaking oil and rust flakes. We're not making it easy for Dearborn, however, because we've got this '61 Simca Aronde, with a what-the-hell price of just $650. Look at that fine French machine and try to tell us you wouldn't feel like a million francs driving it down the boulevard after a full restoration and/or customization. The latter approach might be best, since it already comes with an unnamed Datsun engine. We're sure that engine will work just fine, because the seller wants us to know it "is supposed to be a good one." It might be absolutely impossible somewhat challenging to get all the glass you'll need, because "Some of of the windows are good," but the contacts you'll cultivate in France while searching for a windshield will come in quite handy when it comes time to locate all the missing trim pieces.

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Speaking to a local news station, Rich described the loss, "Oh, God, I loved this thing. I've owned a Corvette since 1972. My heart is broken, it's just...I want another one." Ray paid about $27,000 for the car, investing a further $25,000 in restoring it. The work he was completing earlier in the day was the final stage of that restoration. Because Rich wasn't currently driving the car, it was uninsured. Rich, our deepest and most heartfelt sympathies go out to you. We tip an oil can in your poor car's honor. [via Corvette Blogger]

With the Plymouth brand dead, there's totally an opportunity for a Chrysler version of the Challenger. Chrysler Road Runner anyone? The Pontiac Firebird is an obvious choice and, given that Pontiac still exists, a RWD V8-powered muscle car seems like a good fit for the brand. There are so many muscle cars and muscle car variations from back in the day, which one should rise like a Phoenix from the ashes to burn rubber?

These days, the demand for the "four-door Supra" is so high that it's tough trying to find one cheap enough to serve as the basis for a project that's going to involve a lot of cutting and pasting. That doesn't mean it can't be done, of course- for example, check out this '83 Toyota Cressida, which has most of its parts and is priced at an amazing 350 bucks. The seller included "motor runs" in the "pros" section of the ad, but then we get the line "it's not getting any fuel to the injectors" in the "cons" section. Contradiction? Hey, it's a $350 Cressida! It's got some dents, it has no papers, and it's an automatic... but you'll fix all those things with a quick application of some 1JZGTE power. When you're done with that, you can install a manual transmission (and have fun getting the clutch pedal assembly for a LHD car), and when you're done with that you can work on the luxury features that "do not operate."


The Datsun 810/Nissan Maxima was quite a car, with specs quite similar to the Cressida but more of that funky Nissan flavor we loved so much back in the day. It's pretty much the "four-door 280Z," but that appeal means that most of the usable early-80s examples have been drifted or otherwise hooned into oblivion by now. We couldn't find one quite as cheap as that super-steal Cressida, but this '82 Nissan Maxima can be yours for only $1,200... or less ("any reasonable offer will be concidered"). Don't worry about the photos showing snow on the car, since we're sure it looks just as good now as it did when the photos were taken. The car has "Lots of new parts to include," which we assume means that they're sitting in boxes in the trunk (and possibly they're not so much new as new to this car), and "all in all this car wont stop running." You'll be all "no problemo, dude" about the rust, mostly because you'll be so busy installing this SR20DET/5-speed combo that you won't have time to think about anything other than your eternally bleeding knuckles and ever-shrinking bank account!

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This news comes as something of a game changer for the Nano. Before the car offered bare bones transportation at a cheap price. Certainly a strong selling point, but with skyrocketing fuel prices, the gas has become as much a barrier to market entry as the price of the car. With the incredibly cheap fueling cost on compressed air the car becomes even more accessible to an even wider audience.

Forget all that for a moment though. This kind of makes us wonder what the point is of billions of dollars being invested in lithium-ion batteries, hybridization, low rolling resistance tires, aerodynamics, hydrogen fuel cells and all that other malarkey. The issue with all of the highly touted alternative fuels is capacity or distribution. Hydrogen fuel is expensive to make, has no distribution network and it would be expensive to implement one. Electricity generally comes from coal-fired power plants at the moment (in the US), charging stations don't exactly litter the landscape, and even it they did, it takes forever to charge the batteries.

However, the air compressor engine can rely on almost any power source. All it has to do is be converted by way of air compressor. You could use a gasoline compressor, windmill, a water wheel, electric compressor, hell, you could pedal your way to a full tank if you rigged up a proper system. And cheap. Air compressors have been around for a couple hundred years now. We kind of have them figured out. And they work fast, a fill up would probably take as long as it does now. Huh, remind us again why we're supposed to be excited about alternative fuels? [NYTimes]

I picked up the Challenger from Chrysler's fleet company in Madison Heights yesterday afternoon. Despite an itch to hit the road immediately, we first needed the obligatory glamour shots taken by Metro Detroit's star photographer Fabrizio Costantini and a quick bite to eat. So it wasn't until late yesterday night when I finally had the chance to take the new Mustang-killer out onto Woodward.

A few hours more doesn't bother someone that's waited three years since their first fleeting glimpse of the Challenger across a crowded Detroit Auto Show press introduction. Still, my excitement was obvious — if anyone had been looking that late at night — as I eased the muscle-bound two-door out on to the road and pointed the LX sedan-sans-two doors onto Northbound Woodward Avenue. I don't even know why I tried to contain my feelings. How can a person not be excited when they're driving a car with sheet metal so brilliantly retrospectively-inspired you're actually able to believe orange can work as a car color again?

Plus there's that power. Despite the Challenger's hefty 4,100 lb. weight, the big 425 HP 6.1-liter Hemi the Challenger SRT8 shares with its bigger, four-doored brother allows it to blast away from stoplights. Each and every time, we were provided with the effortless gratification of squealing performance radials.

But I grew up on Woodward Avenue. I know at night the police lay in wait, watching the stoplights, pens at the ready in eager anticipation of tickets to be signed and handed to unsuspecting hoons careless enough to do burnouts. I had no desire to be stopped tonight. Tonight, the fun for me is cruising my past with a car that's more of a time machine than any DeLorean. I wanted to drive. So I drove.

I drove past the hospital where I was born. Past the Red Coat Tavern, where my mom had once been a bartender and where she'd met my father. Past Vinsetta Garage, Michigan's oldest palace of wrench-turning — and a lot where I'd spent many an evening in my teenage years peering through the chain-link fence, trying to discern the differences between muscle cars by shape under bulky car covers. Past Birmingham, where I'd taken my driver's training and first kissed a girl. Past Cranbrook, my high school arch-rivals. Past Long Lake, and the remnants of the Fox & Hounds grill and across from the Merrill Lynch office my father, now gone, worked at over a decade ago. I drove past old family homes, old restaurants and old memories.

It's a credit to how similarly roomy this new Challenger is to the old early-'70s muscle car that I hardly noticed when I'd pulled around Pontiac and was already heading back to Royal Oak. The strongly side-bolstered seats and comfortable-to-grip steering wheel helped me to pass where I'd begun my trip so effortlessly, I decided to keep going — down all the way to where Woodward Avenue ends at the Detroit River. Not having enough of that low rumbling exhaust, I turned the beast around, rear wheels competently holding on as I steered with my right foot and came right back up Woodward. I did this over and over again last night. Each time, emotions long thought dormant welled up inside of me at every red light and would quickly explode outward on every green.

Gone were any cares of the day. The photos? Meaningless. Writing the review? Means nothing to me. The price of gas and a rating of 18 MPG? Ha! These are little things for little people. I'm a man — a real man driving a brand new meaty Mopar muscle car — something Motor City denizens haven't done in decades. The only thing that matters is continuing to drive.

OK, so it turns out there's one thing that matters more. Exhaustion. I pulled into the garage in the wee hours of this morning feeling emotionally drained, but with a wan smile on my face. Why shouldn't I? I knew I'd get to take it out again this morning. And that's exactly what I did, four hours of sweet sleep later and after waking with that smile from the night before still firmly affixed to my face.

First of all, the IRS lets you determine the amount of your deductible car expense using one of two methods: the standard mileage rate method or the actual expense method. To use the standard mileage rate there's a variety of tests you need to meet, but they're all pretty straightforward — you must own or lease the car; the car must not be used for hire, for example as a taxi; you must not operate five or more cars at the same time, as in a fleet operation; etc. To use the actual expense method, you must determine what it actually costs to operate the car for business purposes. Include gas, oil, repairs, tires, insurance, registration fees, licenses, and depreciation (or lease payments) attributable to business miles driven.

Because of the recent rate change, it's probably more relevant for us to talk about method, but the IRS suggests you should run the numbers both ways to see which offers the greater deduction. Since we'll be using the standard mileage rate method, here's the straightforward calculation to use:

# Of Miles x $0.585 = Deduction Amount

Two more things to note are that the IRS allows other car expenses for parking fees, and tolls attributable to business use as separately deductible, whether you use the standard mileage rate or actual expenses. The other notable is more like a tip — document everything. You're dealing with the government here, so make sure you supply enough paperwork to convince them that even if you're gaming the system, you're at least doing it meticulously. Photographs are essential, along with trip dates, times, distances, destinations, persons spoken with and on what business.

Now that that's out of the way, let's get on to the fun part. For purposes of this hypothetical scenario we're going to be using a 2003 Saab 9-5, mainly because we happen to have one lying around. Purchased used, this vehicle has a monthly payment of approximately $300. Add on the insurance and annual registration fees, and we're talking about $350 a month. All we'll need to do is add on the cost of gas for the month at the end to determine whether we'll be able to deduct all of our costs.

So — can we get the man to pay? Let's find out.

Example I: Visit co-workers you wouldn't ordinarily see: DEDUCTIBLE

570 miles x $0.585 per mile = $333.45

Two days in and we're already two-thirds of the way to our goal — this may be easier than we thought.

Example II: Find ways to make work-related trips secondarily personal: DEDUCTIBLE

60 miles x $0.585 per mile = $35.10

Example III: A quick stop on a personal trip: NOT DEDUCTIBLE

0 miles x $0.585 per mile = $0.00

Example IV: Buy your personal goods when you head out to buy work-related supplies: PARTIALLY DEDUCTIBLE

90 miles x $0.585 per mile = $52.65

The Bottom Line

If you've got your graphing calculator humming, you'll see we could have racked up 1,210 miles with 650 of those miles reimbursable, for a total of $421.20. But how much gas did we use? Well, we get an average of 25 MPG in the Saab. Divide 1,210 miles by 25 MPG and we purchased 48.4 gallons of mid-grade gas. At $4.10 a gallon average for mid-grade at the station down the block, that's a fuel cost of $198.44. Add that to the $350 and you'll see that we needed $548.44. Aww, just a little too little business driving this month to pick up the entire cost.

Still, that would have paid for the Saab's car note, insurance, and a little something leftover for a few gallons. Sort of. Remember, your deductions aren't like real cash, so you're really just able to say the money you spent was spent without federal taxes, not like it's that full amount back in your pocket. So what did we learn today? Drive more for business than you do for pleasure, and you'll still probably end up getting screwed in the end — but at least you'll get screwed less!

For more information, please check either IRS Publication 463 or check with a tax accountant. (Photo Credit: StreetsBlog.org)

NHTSA will introduce a new side-impact pole test designed to simulate wrapping a vehicle around a tree, which should be both useful for safety comparison shopping as well as extremely entertaining to watch. Front crash tests will also now score knee, hip and thigh injuries and add a crash test dummy representing a small woman sitting in the front passenger seat.

The fun part? Rather than providing individual frontal and side-impact ratings, NHTSA's made themselves up a formula to combine everything into a single rating of up to five stars, much like the scoring system found in Europe and Japan.

Automakers have until 2010 to get everything up to par, so if you're a laid-off structural engineer in Dee-troit expect your phone to start ringing in about five minutes. [Detroit News]

After you see an ad like this, how can you resist the Goggomobil? Goggo! Goggo! Every day, you look at your Goggo-free garage and sigh wistfully (but secretly feel relieved that it's impossible to find a Goggomobil project). But wait! What have we here? Yes, it's a genuine 1966 Goggomobil TS 250, available for under four grand! Now you can have your own tiny German two-stroker, and all you need to do is finish the "necessary COMPLETE RESTAURATION" the seller had planned to do when he or she bought it. Don't worry about hard-to-find parts, because the seller says "As far as I can tell it's COMPLETE - ALL the parts for completion seem to be there including a complete owners/shop manual in German." See, everything you need, though the disclaimers "as far as I can tell" and "seems to be there" might cause a tiny bit of trepidation in the hearts of our more suspicious readers. There's rust. The engine "turns freely" (possibly because all the rods are lying in a heap in the oil pan). How hard could it be? Thanks to UDMAN and Mad_Science for the tip!

Come on, a 250cc engine? That's hella small! You need more than 15 ponies moving your ride these days, and you also need a truck bed! Obviously, the El Camino is the cartruck for a discerning sophisticate such as yourself, but where's the hell? El Caminos are easy projects! But hold on there- what if you were to drop the drivetrain of a Buick Grand National into a G-body El Camino? No, wait- what if you were to graft the front bodywork and interior from a Grand National onto that El Camino, then add boost until the transmission begs for mercy? Why, then you'd have something much like this 1979 El Camino with 87 Turbo Buick Everything, that's what! In one of our all-time favorite pieces of car-ad description, the seller estimates that this project is 87% COMPLETE. Not 84%, mind you, or even 88%. The engine came out of an alleged 10-second Grand National, runs on race gas only, and has already fried the unnamed automatic transmission (which "NEEDS WORK"). Also unnamed is the "bulletproof" posi rearend, which we sure hope is at least a GM 12-bolt. The line "FUEL LINE busted and i took front bumper off to try to fit a front mount intercooler (was not sucsesfull)." is somewhat disconcerting, but no doubt you'll unravel that mystery and oh-so-many others with this project. Then you'll be King of the Hoons!

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For instance, the gaudy gorgeous S-type grille above runs a mere $750. A gold-plated BMW M3 badge? A steal at $70. How about a four-piece dress-up kit for your Mini Cooper? They're giving 'em away at a mere $300. With prices like that, we're assuming you've all rushed over to outfit your rides with the latest in stylish and conservative auto accessories, 'cause nothin' says distinctive like a gold-plated Honda Civic Type R. [Goldstriker]

Exploding batteries: Remember the flaming plug-in Prius from a few weeks ago? No, that wasn't a manufacturer-sanctioned ride, but it still plainly shows the dangers inherent in releasing unproven technology. The fact that GM has yet to name a supplier for Volt's lithium-ion battery pack (though we hear it'll be either Continental or CPI) is another red flag for the power source.

Embarrassing show mishaps: GM needs a win...and they need it to be a clean win, both on the stage and showroom floor. No panels falling off, stalls, massive oil leaks, fires, or collapsing spokes-robots on stage. Asking engineers to work 18-hour days in an effort to ready bleeding-edge technology for debut at a huge, public event, all while holding their jobs over their heads, is a recipe for disaster.

Gas price crashes: Let's not forget November is rapidly creeping up on us. This is an election year. Don't be terribly surprised if gas prices suddenly fall to earth in a magical, ballot-influencing Bullworth-like fashion in September. The result would be GM touting Volt's amazing fuel economy at the same time Tahoes again start flying off dealer lots.

Are any of these outcomes probable? No. Possible? Yes. [Automotive News (Sub. Req.)]

It's not only a problem for Tata; across the board, material prices are gutting once-profitable programs. Imagine drawing up designs three years ago and projecting material parts budgets (which can often be up to 70% of the part price), only to have the most expensive element of the part jump in price by 40%. That's the kind of thing which blows engineering budgets. Tata is working with its suppliers and partners to determine what the pricing adjustments will look like (when an automaker says that, they mean lower price for them to buy supplies from suppliers, which also means less profit for the supplier), but it's clear they are trying to remain as close as possible to that original $2,500 target.

Jalopnik Snap Judgement: We'll still take three, with the racing stripes, as long as matte-black paint and rear-window shotgun holders are available options. [Automotive News Submission Req.]