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Detroit, 2:18 AM
Mon Nov 30
13 posts in the last 24 hours
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11/25/09
11/24/09
11/24/09
11/24/09
11/24/09
11/24/09
Simona De Silvestro showed the girls knew a better way around the track.
She hit that turn right all day long, she was on the power prior to hitting the first apex and launched up the hill, she was hitting the next gear 30+ feet before everyone else.
11/24/09
Other than that you looked good and your steering input looked pretty smooth. I like lime rock a lot but i start to get nauseous if I do too many laps. Needs more left, haha.
11/24/09
11/24/09
Then when you watch the video later on and say to yourself, "I shouldn't have braked so much before that turn" or "Why did I turn in so early there?" The most effective learning tool is watching the video of the first day before the second day to get a good idea of what to fix.
Here's a slightly funny video of me driving at limerock in my 05 STi. You can see how far I go out to the edge in big bend... and then some. My steering wasn't so smooth but I didn't really know how to deal with understeer back then. You can't see very well but you get the point (also, ignore the stupid text).
I can't figure out how to embed video so here's a link.
[video.google.com]
11/24/09
Here is my racing advice in one sentance:
Foot to the floor until you see God, then brake.
easy.
11/24/09
This comment conjures memories of meeting my childhood hero, Chuck Yeager. I grew up in the High Desert of Southern California, not far from Edwards AFB (and Willow, for that matter). I had the opportunity to shoot the sh*t with him at some length when I was a teenage hoon with dreams of becoming a test pilot.
One of the questions I asked him was how he knew he was really putting an airframe through its paces. His reply was classic, "If I'm up there testin' some new hot rod and don't get to the verge of blackin' out, I know I'm not givin' Uncle Sam his moneys worth."
Quite simply, the man's a God.
11/25/09
11/24/09
10/30/09
10/30/09
I actually expected Lutz's margin of victory to be bigger than it was. And I also have faith that had Mercedes-Benz, BMW, Audi, and Jaguar not been been a bunch of pansies, you would have had the skill to take the old man down.
It's the Jaguar one that killed me, though. Like Ray, I'll give Stuart respect for standing up and taking the heat from us for his decision, but I disagree with the points that he made. He seemed to think that this match up was growing increasingly pointless each day, and he couldn't have been more wrong.
This was far more than just a GM PR flick or even a just a some chicken shit blog trying to take on GM. Actually, it was both of those things, but far more than the sum of the two. This sort of thing is exactly what we've been missing all these years: Automotive companies getting off their asses and proving that they not only want your business, but that they deserve your business, and having a whole lot of fun doing it.
Does anyone remember the days when automotive manufacturers competed for sales with real, actual, honest-to-god cars? Does anyone remember 1964, when the GTO came out? Does anyone remember the responses Pontiac got in the form of the Charger, the hopped-up Fairlanes, and the Chevelle (Pontiac's corporate cousin, no less!)? Or how about the original Shelby GT350, promptly one-upped by the Z28, which got one-upped again by the Boss 302 , followed quickly by the Challenger T/A and the AAR Cuda?
I may not have been alive in those days, but I sure as hell remember the stories of the glorious fun they had not only trying to get business, but show that they deserved that business. They involved the public in the automotive world, and are the ones responsible for taking the cult of cars from a bunch of red-neck guys across the country with their Flathead Fords to everyone who wanted to partake in the fun. Back then, those companies created car culture as we know it today, in one of the most brilliantly successful long-term marketing moves ever.
Now we're reduced to billboard bitch-slap fights between bitchy automakers and armchair general articles from a bunch of fat, old, and lazy magazine journalists. Instead of automakers putting their asses on the line in the street to prove their reputations, they sit on their snooty asses (I'm looking at you, Bruce) and compare spec sheets while making snide comments into their glasses of white wine.
Screw them. What we got today was a breath of fresh air, and I loved the concept from start to finish. It didn't matter what cars were used or who won. What mattered is that it happened. So many people here have gotten lost and upset about stupid little side-arguments over whether or not the CTS-V was a ringer, whether or not Wes can drive, whether or not Ray was just pandering to GM, etc. And all of them missed the point: it didn't matter. It jsut mattered that it was a brief revival of the very spirit that got us all into cars in the first place, and created automotive culture as we know it today.
Ray: Thank you for pushing so hard to make this happen. I know that took a fair deal of effort, and it is appreciated.
Maximum Bob: You are so nick-named for a reason. That was cool, and you have my respect for having the balls to do that.
Wes: You got robbed. I'm sorry, but it's true. You certainly did kick some ass, though, and you got another chance to drive the CTS-V.
Mercedes-Benz, Audi, BMW, and Jaguar: Enjoy your wine. But when your precious spec sheets get tire chunks all over them after your owners find out that their machines aren't all that ultimate after all, take your whine and shove it where the sun don't shine. You know how to play the game, and you couldn't be bothered. #jalopnikvsgm
10/30/09
Nah, I feel bad for you, dude.
You tried, and that's what's important.
Can you honestly expect to beat the mangod that is Bob Lutz? #jalopnikvsgm
10/30/09
10/29/09
10/29/09
You let us down. #jalopnikvsgm
10/29/09
Slowly he pulled the sheet down past his eyes, and to his horror and surprise, across the dark and dreary room, a cowboy-hatted figure stood silent in the gloom.
"Do you know who I am, Wes?"
"Are you my conscience?"
"Ha ha, no, that died years ago! No, I am the ghost of LeMons past. Look at my face, Wes! Don't you recognize the mustaches of justice? Do you recognize me now?"
"L-l-Lieberman? Jonny? Is that you Lieberman?"
"Yes, Wes, it's me. The scourge of cheaters. The chief BS judge of all LeMons. Wes, I know what you plan to do tomorrow. And I warn you, Wes, where I am now, the penalty laps go on forever."
"But Jonny, that son-of-a-bitch Lutz is gonna cheat too! He's planning on using that damned OnStar-R gadget. He's going to have some God damned Euro-weenie F1 driver doing the racing from three thousand miles away, while he knits and text-messages and sips chardonnay! If it's fair for him, then why can't..."
"Two wrongs don't make a right, Wes. Remember what I said!" And with whoosh! and a whirl of dust he disappeared.
Wes lay in bed torn with indecision. He tossed and turned some more, and drifted off into an uneasy and dream-sodden stupor. Just then he heard a clump-clump-clump sound. No! He pulled down the sheets and peeked out.
And there, in a nimbus of white crystal radiance, stood Megan Fox in a glowing gown of luminous cloud-stuff.
"I am the ghost of LeMons future. Come look out on the street with me, Wes!" she said, and she strode over to his window. "Come see!"
Trembling with a strange combination of supernatural fear and lustful desire, Wes rose from his bed, shuffled into his bunny slippers, and followed her to the window.
There on the street below was a terrible sight. All the lanes were filled with little bubble cars, Smart cars, and minivans. Occasionally a G8 - an official car - with flashing beacons would weave through the slow-moving mass. Nowhere in sight was there a sports car or a pony car or a classic or a rat rod.
Wes cried out in horror. "What happened? What happened to the '67 Catalinea that was always parked across the street? Where did the Porsches go? Where are the Camaros?"
Angrily, Megan Fox stared into Wes's bloodshot eyes. "You see, Wes, when the news got out about how a certain racer bent the rules," and here she turned and glared at him, "when everyone knew, that was the last straw. The enthusiasts turned away from the sport in disillusion. When car-hating politicians began to suggest legislation such as a national 30 MPH speed limit, there was no one to protest.
"Wes, in the last LeMons, the top three places were taken by bio-diesel-propelled Smart cars. That's because all the good old stuff has been scrapped and disposed of. And it all started with one little 'insignificant' act of dishonesty." And with that, she snapped her fingers in his face and disappeared.
"Oh, Lord, what have I done? Can't this nightmare be forfended? Is it too late to repent?" Wes fell to his knees and wept. #jalopnikvsgm
10/29/09
10/29/09