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Motor Trend relays a distressing report about one of automotive-dom’s most hallowed stomping grounds:

The Mecca for many car enthusiasts, Germany’s Nürburgring, is apparently in dire financial straits. German newspaper Rhein-Zeitung reports the famed motorsports complex is bankrupt, and that the European Union (EU) may deny the track rescue aid.

So, evidently the single-lap price of €26 (along with all the other multi-lap and “season pass” package deals) isn’t enough to keep the circuit afloat… It’s a shame, really, but somewhat understandable in the current European financial climate of “austerity,” even if the ‘Ring is something of a national icon, at least as far as car buffs are concerned. Here’s hoping an enterprising enthusiast (or group thereof) decides to step in and rescue the track from foreclosure.

Codemasters’ upcoming F1 Race Stars game may make your dream come true.

On sale in time for Christmas for the PS3, XBox and PC, F1 Race Stars offers a cartoonish, amped-up, arcade-like take on Formula 1, wherein the average fan will be able to control their driver of choice (if their choice is Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton, Sebastien Vettel, Nico Rosberg, Romain Grosjean or Bruno Senna, that is), take advantage of powerups and lob a variety of weapons at their preferred “villain.” And honestly, what diehard F1 fan hasn’t, on occasion, just wanted a giant boot to appear out of nowhere and clobber whichever driver is leading their hero? I know I have.

In any case, if the gameplay mechanics are good and the driver and car balance is just right, F1 Race Stars looks like it could be a fun game. If nothing else, it would serve as a good introduction for my kids to the world of F1 personalities. Watching an actual F1 race with Daddy on any given Sunday, there’s the potential they would be slightly less bored out of their mind if they could identify one or more of the top drivers. I think I’ll give it a try.

Huge, un-fendered wheels. A long, thin nose. Wings at both ends. A single-seat cockpit backed by a prominent intake snorkel. Bulbous side pods.

On paper, the ingredients of a typical Formula 1 racer don’t exactly sound like a recipe for aesthetic success. That said, the sport has always been an extremely high-profile showcase for an automaker’s technical prowess (or lack thereof), so it’s understandable some would attempt to cash in, as it were, on their team’s on-track achievements by incorporating F1 car styling details in their road cars.

Enzo Ferrari. With the 2002-2004 Enzo Ferrari (shown at top), the Modena automaker was perhaps the first to do so overtly. The design cues are obvious, from the side pod-suggesting rear fenders to the anteater-ish nose and prominent front-end aerodynamics. The car was conceived as its manufacturer’s F1 team was in the midst of an unrivaled success streak, notching five driver’s World Championships in as many years from 2000 to 2005, so it’s understandable they would seek to showcase their domination. Whether the car actually works aesthetically is another story, but it’s at least noteworthy.

Mercedes SLR McLaren. This one’s a bit more of a mishmash of influences. Still, the F1 connection is strong with the 2003-2008 SLR McLaren, as evidenced by the long, thin nose motif running down the hood and the quasi-winged valence. To all that, Mercedes added touches of their classic 300SL Gullwing racer along with then-current Merc themes like the double ovoid headlights. If the car’s styling looks ambiguous, there’s probably a reason it was replaced in short order by the much more single-minded SLS AMG in 2010.

Caparo T1. No ambiguity here. The high-strung, 2008-present T1 is an unabashed homage to Formula 1 shapes and engineering. A 1,000-lb car with a 575-hp, 3.5l V8 nestled amidships, its power-to-weight ratio approaches that of an F1 racer as well. If the design gets points, they’ll undoubtedly come from the pre-teenage boy crowd, who spend their study hours drawing such shapes on their notebook paper. Stunning in the purity of its interpretation of an F1 look, but of questionable utility in the “real world.”

I’m going to do something unheard-of in this post. I’m going to compliment a Chris Bangle design.

In contrast to the almost insurmountable damage he did to the BMW design image in the early ’00s (which is only just now beginning to be undone), before his sense of style “evolved” to encompass the truly hideous, in the ’90s his designs were considered merely avant-garde, and in some cases, actually attractive.

Take the ’93-’00 Fiat Coupe, for example. Yes, its front wheels do the work of propelling the car, as on so many sports coupes of its day, such as the Mitsubishi Eclipse, Ford Probe or Mercury Cougar. But in contrast to those cars’ derivative proportions and detailing, the Fiat Coupe is striking in its originality and coherence. Most elements, such as the bubbled headlight covers, the taillight design or the bodywork “slashes” above the wheels, are unique in the automotive world, and the car is a true head-turner, and not in a gaudy way, either–the Coupe’s design is provocative without looking superfluous or overwrought. It’s right on the money.

The 220-hp 20V turbo version of the car has a surprising turn of speed, also, its 6.5-second 0-60 dash making it the fastest FWD car of its day. Furthermore, as the Coupe’s chassis dynamics were developed in Europe, it’s far more buttoned-down and taut than most front-drivers offered here in the US.

It’s a shame the car was never offered here, but I doubt it would have sold well in any case. Europeans in general are far more tolerant of daring styling decisions in their small cars (see: Renault Twingo, Ford Ka, Fiat Multipla, etc), although ever since the success of the radically box-like first-generation Scion xB on our shores, our attitude towards economy car design risks has softened a good deal. So the Fiat Coupe might have had a chance here…10 years after it was phased out. It wasn’t a world-beater, but for offering an arresting shape wrapped around a competent chassis and array of powerplants, it deserves to be recognized.

Editor’s note: This post is part of an ongoing series highlighting FWD cars I think highly of, in spite of my overwhelming RWD bias. Read the other installments here:

• Peugeot 205 GTI
• B4 Volkswagen Passat
• Lancia Fulvia Coupe
• Acura Vigor
• Mazda Millenia
• Citroën SM
• ’91-’96 Infiniti G20
• ’91-’94 B13 Nissan Sentra SE-R
• ’88-’92 Mazda MX-6
• Audi Coupe GT
• Volkswagen Corrado
• Peugeot 405 Mi16
• ’78-’93 Saab 900
• Volvo 850 T-5R
• 5th-generation Honda Prelude
• 1st- and 2nd-generation Volkswagen Scirocco

A few stipulations: It goes without saying this list features only episodes from the original, ongoing, may-it-live-forever British version of the show. The other country-specific spinoffs aren’t worthy of mention. Also, I’ve included only races that have been long enough to split into multiple segments on the show. And finally, I disregarded “road trips” wherein the guys each debate the merits of whatever cars each of them have selected, and the overall goal isn’t really finishing first.

Naturally, any of these, no matter how far down the list, has more charm and entertainment value in 30 seconds than any of the aforementioned country-specific Top Gear spinoffs have in an entire season.

1. Aston Martin DB9 vs. Trains (Season 4, Episode 1) Race route: London to Monte Carlo. The original Epic Race and still the best. There was something absolutely electrifying about the production values, the closeness of the finish and the allure of the car itself, the then-new and drop-dead gorgeous DB9. This is the race that continues to hold car guys glued to their TV sets for its entirety.
2. Jaguar XK120 vs. Motorcycle vs. Locomotive (Season 13, Episode 1) Race route: London to Edinburgh, Scotland. Also known as The Race to the North. Absolutely magnificent. No, it may not have featured the supercar du jour, but it’s hard to witness sweeping overhead shots of the brutish Tornado locomotive or classic XK120 blasting through the northern English countryside, set to a driving orchestral score, and not be stirred. It’s an epic slice of classic British technological heaven.
3. Nissan GT-R vs. Japanese Bullet Train (Season 11, Episode 4) Race route: Hakui, Japan, to the top of Mount Nokogiri (near Tokyo). Easily the closest finish of all the Epic Races. In spite of the “camouflaged” editing, with most installments you can sort of tell who has the edge near the end, but this one is a true nail-biter. Fun to watch.
4. Caterham Seven vs. Building One (Season 8, Episode 7) Race route: The guys must build a Seven from a kit before the Stig can drive a completed one from the factory in Surrey to the presenters’ location in Scotland. I’ll admit I’m a bit biased in favor of this one because constructing a Caterham in my garage would be paradise. So as much as the guys bickered, and I wished they have just let James direct the whole thing, I did truly enjoy watching it come together. Bonus points for an Epic Race featuring the Stig, whose interactions with ordinary folks are invariably entertaining.
5. Car vs. Bike vs. Public Transport vs. Speedboat (Season 10, Episode 5) Race route: Across London to London City Airport. Another Epic Race including the Stig, who is given the public transport option and subjected to the most “face time” with mere mortals we’ve ever seen. Otherwise a bit of a snoozer, watching all the participants crawl through London traffic.
6. Ferrari Daytona vs. Powerboat (Season 12, Episode 5) Race route: Portofino, Italy, to St. Tropez, France. A short route, and a bit simplistic, saved by the Daytona. James’ time in the powerboat can get monotonous, consisting as it does of him getting his kidneys pulverized for the duration of the race, but any time Richard cracks the Daytona’s 12 butterflies on the Autoroute and lets the Ferrari’s engine sing, it’s all worth it.
7. Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren vs. Boats (Season 6, Episode 6) Race route: London to Oslo, Norway. Debits for one of the parties not actually finishing the race. Bonus points for the beautiful shots of the SLR McLaren crossing the Øresund Bridge between Denmark and Sweden. All in all, an okay race.
8. Bugatti Veyron vs. Cessna 182 (Season 7, Episode 5) Race route: Switzerland to London. More demerits for one of the parties not actually finishing the race as planned. Jeremy’s comments about the Veyron are entertaining, however, and the car puts on a show. How could it not, with 1,000 horsepower on tap?
9. Ferrari 612 Scaglietti vs. Jet Plane (Season 5, Episode 8) Race route: London to Verbier, Switzerland. The second Epic Race, this one would have been better if the featured car had been more compelling, but the 612, as nice as it may be to drive, is kind of revolting to look at. Not a very interesting race route, either.
10. Jaguar XJ vs. Earth’s Rotation (Season 16, Episode 6) Race route: Across the width of England, from west to east. Again, not a very interesting car, and witnessing the trash talk between the opposing sides being as fun as it is, competing against “the Sun” isn’t terribly compelling on account of the lack of give and take. Overblown.
11. Porsche Panamera S vs. Mail (Season 13, Episode 4) Race route: Southern England to northern Scotland. Just depressing. Racing a letter across the “height” of Britain? In a hideous Panamera? Okay…

So…there you have it. Comments, corrections and additions welcome. I should note that all of these are available in their entirety if you subscribe to Netflix’s streaming service (no affiliation).

I’ve owned each of these at one point or another. I’ve loved them all, and miss them to varying degrees. But as much as I pine for one or more on any given day, they all have an Achilles heel. There isn’t a car, no matter how beloved, on which I wouldn’t change a thing.

First-generation Mazda RX-7: Recirculating-ball steering. Yes, I could go after the archaic live axle rear suspension, but somehow that becomes as much a part of the car’s charm as the notoriously vague steering and huge dead spot on center are disappointing. C’mon Mazda, really? It’s not even like the obsolescent British roadsters whose market you helped upend were still fitted with recirculating ball boxes. Not only that, but the 2nd and 3rd generation RX-7s’ steering remains among the sharpest and best in the world. Tell me they couldn’t have rolled that out a bit earlier and given us 1st gen enthusiasts a few model years of rack-and-pinion-y goodness. Unfortunate.

Audi 4000 quattro: Weight distribution. There’s so much right with this car that I just hate the fact that the engine hangs way out in front of the axle line. You certainly feel it when driving. Four wheel disc brakes, AWD, a close-ratio 5-speed, a raspy 5-cylinder engine, responsive rack-and-pinion steering, a commendably low weight of 2,800 lbs…let down by incurable understeer. The factory engine’s 110 hp may feel anemic, but a whole host of stronger Audi 5-bangers drop right in, more or less. It’s just a shame 65% of the weight over the front axle can’t be “modded away” as easily as the power deficit.

Datsun 240Z: Rear drum brakes. Yes, perhaps expecting a non-premium car made in the early ’70s to sport discs on all four wheels is a bit much. Still, Jaguar at least had been doing it for 10 years by that point, so is it really an unreasonable demand? The Z’s drums, while competent, are a massive pain to service, increase unsprung weight over discs and just look ugly. Mine are coming off as soon as I can afford the (expensive) disc conversion bits.

Mark 3 Toyota Supra (’86-’92): Weight. This car would be perfect…if it went on a 400+ lb diet. 4-wheel discs, smooth and powerful 6-pot engine, double wishbones all around, 5-speed, RWD, rack-and-pinion steering, great looks, and a few hundred pounds of unnecessary pork. I could really do without the power adjustable side bolsters. And the targa roof. And the gimicky electronic dampers. And a whole load of additional stuffing. If Toyota had put as much effort into weight control as they had the rest of the car, they’d have had a true world-beater.

Car and Driver‘s Aaron Robinson grapples with this question, and leans toward the affirmative:

Scion is a brand conceived in a focus group, born in a fluorescent-lit marketing department, and wet-nursed by copious spreadsheets and PowerPoint presentations. It can claim no pedigree, no history. No Mr. Scion ever lived to turn his personal ambition into automobiles. When you buy a Scion, you buy into something akin to a second-year MBA’s class project on ways to penetrate the youth market by a car company that pins its fortunes almost entirely on aging baby boomers…

I have no doubt that Scion will eventually go the way of Plymouth.

Robinson touches on marketing and project development missteps by the brand, including redesigning their distinctive and successful first-generation xB econobox and tC sports coupe into anonymous, blobby shadows of their former selves. Although I agree with Robinson’s assessment on that point, I don’t think it’s entirely fair to lump in the brand with other defunct nameplates like Mercury, Saturn or even Oldsmobile and Pontiac. A primary reason for the demise of the marques listed was an utter lack of a market in comparison with their badge-engineered stablemates from the same overarching automaker (Ford, General Motors). Scion doesn’t have any internal competition at Toyota, and its mission to offer cars in the low-cost-yet-fun category is much better defined than that of Mercury or Oldsmobile, for example. There’s still a reason to keep Scion around, even if its parent company flounders somewhat in marketing its cars. Opportunity is still present, even if untapped.

Furthermore, from the perspective of an enthusiast, a multiplicity of nameplates is a welcome thing. In a day and age when brands are being euthanized right and left—Saab being the latest to kick the bucket—we should welcome diversity in contrast to an overweening corporate homogenization. Does any true car buff look forward to the prospect of a growing number of increasingly bland cars cranked out by just two or three automakers? No—more brands means more minds solving the same problems, more innovation, and more interest. That isn’t to say we should keep a brand on life support just to keep a nameplate alive in the absence of a worthy product, but in the case of Scion, compelling reasons do exist to maintain the marque, and other issues such as racing pedigree and history, although they take time, can be developed.

If you have an hour to spare and consider yourself any kind of motorsport enthusiast, you owe to yourself to sit through the documentary above. It offers a brief overview of the sport of rally racing in general before focusing on the ’82-’86 Group B era, featuring a class of race cars among the most electrifying ever built. From the early domination of the Audi Quattro to the mid-era success of the Peugeot 205 T16 through to the competition-crushing Lancia Delta S4, the clip resurrects tons of archival footage and showcases beautiful in-action and static views of each car. Less renown Group B racers such as the Ford RS200 and MG Metro 6R4 even get airtime, along with sports car entrants like the Ferrari 288 GTO and Porsche 959. It’s amazingly well-produced and comprehensive documentary. Watch it if you have a chance.

I’ve never seen this before.

A helpful Spannerhead passerby commented on an older post in my 240Z restoration series, shedding some light on my engine block / VIN mismatch mystery.

To recap, although my dad, the Z’s original owner, swears up and down the engine in the car is original—and I believe him—it remains that the engine’s block number, and the number stamped on the car’s shock tower ID plate do not match. The number stamped on the engine block is 118555, and the ID plate’s number reads 110555. Up until this point, the going theories were, in decreasing order of likelihood:

1. The original engine was somehow defective before my dad bought the car new, was replaced before he bought it, and the installer made a mistake when applying the number to the block.
2. The engine was surreptitiously replaced when my dad had it rebuilt in the mid-’90s, and once again, the installer screwed up when scribing the block number.
3. The Nissan factory made a mistake.

What made that last theory particularly improbable is simply the fact that the block number and ID plate have no other purpose but to match. I mean, that’s their only job, and it stands to reason that the dozens, if not hundreds of pair of eyes that saw the numbers between the time the car was being assembled and the time my dad drove off the showroom lot would have caught something.

However…it now appears the ID plate, not the block, is wrong. Check it out: My car’s VIN is 93069, and according to the registry information provided by the helpful commenter, 118555 would mesh perfectly with the block number range the VIN corresponds with. So, wonder of wonders, the ID plate, stamped from the Nissan factory in Japan, an item with no other purpose but to match with the block, is wrong. It’s like waking up one morning to find a misspelling on your driver’s license… Just bizarre. And surprising.

Editor’s note: This post is Part 18 of an ongoing series chronicling my efforts toward the restoration of my 1972 Datsun 240Z, originally my father’s. Read the other installments here:

• Part 23: Gutting the Interior
• Part 22: The Teardown Begins
• Part 21: …And the Engine Comes Out
• Part 20: Treasure Hunting
• Part 19: Beginnings
• Part 18: VIN Discoveries
• Part 17: The Bad News
• Part 16: On The Road
• Part 15: Getting It Back On The Road
• Part 14: It Lives!
• Part 13: Restoring the Fuel System, Part I
• Part 12: Meat on the Wheels
• Part 11: Inspiration (Sort Of)
• Part 10: Carbs’ Return
• Part 9: First Triad Z Club Meet
• Part 8: Wheel Work
• Part 7: Tactical Changes
• Part 6: Little Things
• Part 5: Coming Home
• Part 4: The Rollout
• Part 3: Confessions of a Poor Car Enthusiast
• Part 2: Opening the Tomb
• Part 1: Projecting Forward