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.