Spannerhead Dot Com

Grant me a bit of hyperbolic license for the post’s title—they have, at least, made cars that were bearable to behold—but I challenge anyone to name a truly beautiful Subaru.

Inspired by a description in a recent Car and Driver review of the new 2012 Subaru Impreza as “no longer ugly, but not yet pretty,” I tried to recall any actually pretty Subarus. In fairness, most automakers have had a handful of shapes they’d disown, given the chance, but in the history of almost every manufacturer, there’s at least one beautiful shape to counterbalance the bad. Subaru has definitely had their share of nausea-inducing designs (BRAT, Baja, Tribeca, bugeye WRX, etc), but I can’t think of a single really attractive design on the other side of the ledger. They’ve had designs that were memorable (SVX) and handsome (Impreza 2.5RS, ’03-’09 Legacy), but nothing truly arresting, in a positive sense.

Not only that, I don’t know of another car company that’s searched so hard without success for a defining design element. What do I mean? Taking just the WRX as an example, from ’00 to ’03, they seemed to completely commit to a circular headlight treatment, then hastily adopted a more conventional nose from ’04-’05. Next, from ’06 to ’07, the WRX sported an Edsel-like “puckered” grille shape, only to abandon that even more quickly in a cloud of ridicule in favor of a more “sweeping” treatment from ’08 on. And to this day, where most marques are more-or-less readily identifiable, Subaru seems to have swung the pendulum back the other direction of being completely anonymous. Where other automakers show a styling progression, sometimes significant, as model cycles come and go, Subaru takes it to the next level, lurching wildly from one theme to the next. Their design turmoil is somewhat unique in the automotive world, and notable.

• Italian boutique automaker F&M recently debuted their Evantra supercar, ingloriously bestowing it with a name that sounds like it originated in the Kia marketing department. Also, I’d hate to see one of those doors pop open accidentally on the autostrada. Oh, and it weighs under 2,700 lbs and its 3.5l twin-turbo flat six pumps out 603 hp. Yawn.
• AOL Autos recently decided to do what every automotive publication does when it’s a slow news day: Compile a list of the 50 worst cars of all time. The only variation on a very common endeavor was the fact that AOL opted to include one car per automaker. Agree with most, disagree with a handful of selections, including the Alfetta (there have been uglier Alfas), Audi 5000 (indicting it for faults entirely unrelated to the car itself) and 2012 Honda Civic (first-gen Insight, anyone?).
• In a case that has car buffs fantasizing about Italy turning into some kind of automotive paradise (more than it already is, natch), Ferrari president Luca Montezemolo is reportedly considering running for Italian Prime Minister. His “a chicken in every pot and a Ferrari in every garage” campaign promise should go over particularly well with the Tifosi.
• Edmunds today features a fantastic photoshoot of four classic ’80s supercars: The Ferrari 288 GTO, Porsche 959, Ferrari F40 and Lamborghini Countach. All red, naturally, and overexposed so you can really see the crackle finish on the aluminum manifolds and cam covers, and the pucker on the leather interiors. Perfect.
• Continuing the “ridiculously cool pictures” theme, Jalopnik highlights a stunning photo featuring the groundbreaking Citroën DS and a prototype Concorde. Both vehicles share a kinship in that they were assumed to be the wave of the future in many ways, but technological progress decided to take a left turn just as they were set to really catch on. Ghosts of old future tech.

I love writing about Alfa Romeo. In any capacity, really. News, treatises on older models, discussions of the company’s up and downs—I’ll take anything. The reason? Without descending too far into cliché, there are few automakers that evoke quite the same sense of implausible romance as Alfa does. Even a stereotypically “passionate” automaker like Jaguar was taken over by Ford and forced to attend to boring things like quality, and is the better for it nowadays, but in my mind, Alfa has always remained unencumbered by such concerns as how their cars actually go together. For ages, they’ve been free to focus on the qualities that really matter to enthusiasts—soul, emotion, feedback, sensation—without fretting over details like whether their automotive objets d’art would start every morning. Car buffs have long felt a connection to that fundamentally irrational mindset; after all, a sports car is almost by definition an irrational acquisition. Boring, reliable transportation appliances are cheap and plentiful, and there’s simply no real way to justify the purchase of something as impractical as a sports car, of any make. I know; I’ve tried—and how. But that’s where Alfa meets us; they seem to understand the struggle, and somehow make it easier for us by completely eliminating any delusions of sensibility creating conflict in our minds. For that, the automaker will always have a place in the enthusiast pantheon.

The good news today is a reconfirmation of Alfa’s intention to return to the US market for the first time since their departure in ’94, and return with a bang: Their 4C sports car will be the first model to hit showrooms. True to form, it’s a completely impractical, tiny, 2-seat, mid-engined, turbocharged road-hugger, and it looks beautiful, like a three-fifths size 458 Italia. Even more impressive than its 230 hp, 1.8l direct-injection 4-cylinder engine is its Lotus-like sub-2000 lb curb weight. That kind of power-to-weight ratio ensures lively responses in any direction, not the least of which is a mid-4-second 0-60 sprint. Priced around $60K, it should undercut the Porsche Cayman by $10K or so while offering 911-like levels of performance. If Alfa can pull it off—and there’s no reason to think they won’t be able to, given the financial muscle of parent Fiat—I’d say they have a winner on their hands. I look forward to reading magazine and online comparos chronicling the impractical Italian’s attempts to one-up its more sensible German, Japanese and American rivals.

The long arm of General Motors came back to haunt Saab, even as the company fought for survival, and proved to be the Swedish automaker’s undoing. As I reported back in July:

[O]n the verge of liquidating their assets and shuttering their factories, a pair of buyers emerged, in this case the Chinese firms Youngman and Pang Da.

What looked like the potential for a relatively secure line of credit for Saab has been nixed by GM on the grounds that patents arrangements could be used to further the interests of GM’s competitors in China, an exploding market for the American giant. So although GM no longer owns Saab, technically, a great deal of proprietary technology was shared, giving GM a certain amount of legal, if not financial sway over Saab’s activity.

And so, having been shunned by every major and minor automaker, it seems Saab’s quirkiness will be exiting stage left. The turn of events obviously means the end for Saab’s only current offering, its well-executed and distinctive second-generation 9-5.

What conclusions to draw from Saab’s demise? If I were going to be snarky, after the death of Oldsmobile, Pontiac, Hummer, Saturn, Daewoo and now Saab, I’d strongly advise struggling automakers against hitching their wagon to the General. Especially compared to the success of, say, former Ford partnerships—Jaguar, Volvo, Aston Martin and Mazda immediately come to mind—GM’s track record of putting companies on a successful trajectory looks poor indeed.

Also, the increasingly oppressive regulatory climate, both here and across the pond, is squeezing out smaller, more unique automakers in favor of larger, more financially-stable firms better able to absorb lawmakers’ capriciousness. It’s a sad state of affairs when outfits that bring so much color to the automotive world are sacrificed in order to free up the capital needed to comply with new emissions and safety laws, not to mention the overwhelming amount of gadgetry de rigeur in even a basic mid-level car. Now, of course I can’t prove a direct connection between the two; after all, many companies are done in by good old-fashioned mismanagement and stupidity (see: TVR), but it’s almost always the case that when the list of requirements for a product grows, the chance of companies designing very similar “solutions” grows proportionally. Everything fades to gray, and Saab is the latest color to dim.

After many years of anticipation, HLS30-93069 finally made the 90-mile trek to its new home yesterday. As shown above, I loaded it onto a car carrier and borrowed my dad’s truck for the event. Naturally, it poured down rain the whole drive. Completely dry before and after, of course. I was more than a little frustrated with that turn of events given that it was moisture that caused the bulk of the 240Z’s current issues.

I waited until this morning to enlist my brother-in-law’s help in rolling it off the car carrier and into the garage. Fortunately, 2350 lbs or so isn’t a whole lot of car to push around, so I don’t foresee any issues rolling it in and out of its spot by myself when the need arises.

In the garage, still drying off. One of the prerequisites to actually digging into the restoration is building storage shelves and racks around the perimeter of the garage. We need space for the bits that get removed from the Z as well as general storage for the house itself.

After a gentle bath to remove whatever remained of 8 years of dust the rainstorm didn’t wash off last night, the Z was tucked in under an old car cover. Truth be told, it’s more there to protect my family from the car’s disintegrating rubber bumper strips than to shield the car from inadvertent kid scratches.

Cleaned up the engine bay a bit and reinstalled the factory orange air cleaner. Interesting Z tidbit: According to a reputable SU carb expert, the simple sheet metal air horns built into the inside of the air cleaner box flow somewhat better than any aftermarket units. Many early Z owners install non-factory air horns in pursuit of a looks and performance upgrade, but for the latter, there’s really nothing better than the orange OEM piece.

A shot of the cause of many of the car’s issues: A rusted-out inner fender directly beneath the battery tray, up against the firewall. Driving the car in the rain, water has a direct path through the fender and firewall, down into the passenger floor pan.

I also completely removed any vestiges of the ill-advised electric fan conversion and its associated wiring, and drained the oil. The oil looked clean—there were no metallic flakes at all, but I doubt that’s conclusive as I’m sure I changed the oil immediately following the engine fire incident. I racked my brain trying to remember if there were any visible particulates in the oil then, but for the life of me I can’t recall. In any case, the engine’s coming out and going to be torn down and checked. At least it’s home. Feels good to have the Z where it belongs.

Editor’s note: This post is Part 5 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 4: The Rollout
• Part 3: Confessions of a Poor Car Enthusiast
• Part 2: Opening the Tomb
• Part 1: Projecting Forward

Riffing on the classic Conan sketch, here’s an example of a train wreck caused by the collision of MMORPG geekery and car enthusiast posturing:

Apparently you can make enough money selling WoWBots to buy a tuned, carbon-fiber-laden Nissan GT-R for $150,000. That’s what one 18-year-old Zilvia.net forum denizen says he did, and now he’s selling the car on the board. Naturally, everyone else thinks he’s trolling.

As the husband of an avid World of Warcraft player (and the owner of a level 85 Draenei mage, no less), the Jalopnik post held particular relevance for me. Needless to say, I immediately sent the link to my wife and asked her if there was any possible way for her to get into this apparently lucrative “WoWBots” programming scene and earn me enough money to score a GT-R as well. Still waiting for a response on that one, but it may be just as well—the thread in question apparently descended into the usual claims, lies and YouTube “proof” which the alleged owner of the GT-R later admitted was all a scam. Yet another “get car quick” scheme goes up in smoke. Oh well.

Here’s a dilemma: How do I defend my characterization of the ’74-’78 Mustang II as a Sophomore Slump when 4 of the Mustang’s 10 best-selling model years were recorded on its watch? In other words, can a car so popular really be considered a slump?

As with most things in life, it all depends on the context. When taken in isolation, as many automotive pundits have pointed out both in its day and later on, the Mustang II was just right for its economic climate. Arriving in ’74, just as the market was clamoring for smaller, more economical cars in the wake of the ’73 oil crisis, the Mustang II was a perfect fit. Lee Iacocca, the creator of the original Mustang in ’64 and the force behind the development of its second generation, must’ve looked positively visionary when he anticipated the market shift and greenlit the car’s development several years before consumers began altering their buying habits.

So when considered with respect to its environment, the Mustang II was a winner. But as a Mustang? Compared to the original? Sadly, that’s where things start to go a bit pear-shaped for the II. Part of the appeal of the original car was its size; however, that aspect wasn’t the most important one. It was the first of the pony cars: Fun, youthful, customizable vehicles built using their more mundane stablemates’ running gear, but in the case of the Mustang, an essential ingredient of its appeal was its performance—it was a muscle car as well. And that was the critical side of the Mustang’s personality that was lost with the update. In fairness, nothing except certain Ferraris had any semblance of performance at all in the early-mid ’70s, especially compared to the ground-thumping muscle car heyday of just a few years earlier, but that doesn’t change the fact that whatever the cause, with the II, a huge part of the original Mustang’s raison d’etre was missing, gone. The general buying public may not have minded, given the circumstances, but enthusiasts certainly took note. So in spite of its success in the marketplace, for being half the car it was in the late ’60s, both literally and figuratively, the Mustang II deserves to be called a Sophomore Slump.

Editor’s note: This post is part of an ongoing series highlighting cars whose second generation failed to live up to the promise of the first. Read the other installments here:

• ’03-’10 BMW 6 Series
• Series 2 Jaguar E-Type
• ’01-’10 Lexus SC430

Automobile links to the latest tantalizing morsel from Lotus concerning their upcoming Esprit reboot, shown above. The tidbit in question is a glimpse at the 2013 Esprit’s all-new V8 engine, which was originally adapted from the Lexus IS F‘s mill before Lotus decided to start fresh. Given the British niche automaker’s engine-building experience (they developed the original Corvette ZR1’s world-beating LT5 powerplant, among many others), I’ve no doubt they’ll do it right.

As much of an issue as I have with Lotus’ plans for diversification of their product line, there will always be a place for the Esprit. In many ways, the ’77-’04 original was the quintessentially British supercar, a fascinating and compelling amalgam of cutting-edge and long-obsolete technology, a unique intersection between differing performance philosophies. Before the Esprit, Lotus cars embodied a characteristic devotion to light weight, but the Esprit was arguably the first Lotus to add power to the equation. Beginning with the 210 hp Essex Turbo in ’80, through the factory turbo cars of the ’80s, culminating in 300 hp out of the 2.2l 4-cylinder S4s in ’95, and progressing onto the ultimate 350 hp twin-turbo V8 of the late ’90s / early ’00s (shown above), the Esprit story has been one of continual evolution over a 27-year span. Truthfully, Lotus’ commitment to the Esprit is surpassed only by Porsche’s dogged and ongoing refinement of their 40+ year old 911, though in the British firm’s case, the attachment was driven largely by an perennial lack of capital to develop anything new, rather than by a more pure affection for the car’s legacy, as in the case of the German concern.

I love the way the Esprit took on the best from Porsche, Ferrari and Lamborghini during the supercar wars of the ’80s. It was the 4-cylinder turbocharged underdog from the UK, and had the glamor and pedigree to match its rivals step for step. And it looked more like a pure supercar than any of them, lacking the Countach’s over-the-top flamboyance, the bloated Testarossa’s Miami Vice cheese graters and the 911’s pumped-up bulges. No, the Esprit was just a simple, low, elemental wedge shape, the two-seat, mid-engined core of a supercar with every non-essential geegaw absent. And quirky as it may have been, it remained largely true to that philosophy throughout its evolution. For that, I remain an ardent fan.

Of all Japanese automakers, Nissan and Lexus, with their GT-R and LFA, respectively, get it.

No electric motors, please. No fuel cells, giant capacitors or kinetic energy recovery systems. Just plain old gasoline-generated horsepower, and lots of it, for our sports cars.

And yet, Honda and Lexus’ parent company Toyota, seem to want to mimic their eco-crazy European counterparts in developing hybrid sports cars. As if that weren’t bad enough, it seems likely both companies will revive storied model names to give their new creations a measure of “legitimacy” out of the starting blocks.

In Toyota’s case, the rumors aren’t anything new—the automaker has been coy about the development of a “Mark 5” Supra for ages now—but the recent introduction of the clean-sheet, RWD GT 86/Scion FR-S has freshly stoked the fires of speculation. And with the FT-HS concept car, shown at top, all that’s left to wonder is what Toyota’s waiting for to pull the trigger. It’s understandable the collapse of the Japanese sports car market during the late ’90 would leave that country’s automakers wary of introducing any new top-of-the-line road eaters, and Toyota is a cautious company in general. That said, the automaker is the poster child for hybrid success with the runaway popularity (relatively speaking) of their Prius, so it wouldn’t be too far of a stretch for them to adapt some well-proven hybrid technology to a range-topping sports car. And Toyota’s never made a dynamically bad car, so its driving characteristics will undoubtedly be above reproach. The only question left, then, is what enthusiasts would make of a new Hybrid Supra. Would they enthusiastically embrace it? Or recoil in horror that the legacy of the canonized Mark 4 Supra would be tarnished by association with technology primarily geared toward economy?

For its part, Honda has more or less committed to introduce an NSX successor, if you can call it that. The Jalopnik report states:

Sources inside a Las Vegas dealer meeting earlier this month exclusively told us the new Acura NSX Concept would look like the vehicle from the upcoming Avengers movie (albeit in hardtop form) and feature an AWD hybrid drivetrain. If true, this would mean a radical departure from the car’s previous life as a pure, light-weight, RWD sports car.

I share the site’s sense of disappointment at Honda’s divergence from the formula that made the original so distinctive. In a way, if the automaker does decide to attach the NSX nameplate to the trunklid, they stand to lose more than Toyota would in naming an upcoming hybrid sports car Supra. Although comparable performance-wise, the NSX was an altogether more pure sports car than the Supra, offered at a higher price point, and basically unchanged (or unsullied, depending on your point of view) from its introduction through the end of its model run. The game-changing nature of the original NSX‘s arrival means a new AWD, hybrid version of the car would more radically redefine the car’s image and purpose compared to a similar situation with the Supra. For the record, I hope both Honda and Toyota come around and offer genuine GT500/Corvette/M3/911 competitors, but given industry trends toward more complex, “eco-friendly” vehicles, I’m doubtful a refreshingly conventional successor to the NSX or Supra will see the light of day.