Random acts of kindness

One of my friends has a beautiful white Audi S5 Sportback.  It's a stunning car, and it has four beautiful chrome tailpipes.  However, the engine has direct injection, which produces soot, which then stains the tailpipes black.  I know this from experience, as the GLI suffers from the same effect.  Here's what the tailpipes look like when they're clean:

If you don't keep on top of keeping the pipes clean, they accumulate soot:

Dirty pipes that should be clean drive me crazy.  Dirty pipes also expose one of my biggest automotive design pet peeves: the fake exhaust pipe.  Why why why put a fake exhaust pipe on a car?  You'll start seeing them when you look around - a car with more than one exhaust pipe, one of them is clean, the other is filthy.  Fake pipe, just there for style.  Drives me crazy, just skip it!

Anyway, back to the S5.  I've been telling my friend for years that he has to clean the pipes on his S5.  Every time I'd see his beautiful car, it was marred by the dirty, crusty, soot-covered pipes.  You couldn't even tell the the tips were chrome.  Those pipes are meant to be clean!

My friend and I work together, so one day, after verifying that he was going to be on campus, I snuck out to the parking lot, armed with some Bar Keepers Friend, a sponge, some paper towels, and some rubber gloves.  After scrubbing those pipes for about 40 minutes, I got them to the point where they'd pass the "10 foot test."  If you get up close to them, you can tell they need a bit more attention, but from 10 feet away, the improvement is noticeable.

I left him a little note under his windshield wiper, telling him I just couldn't take it any more.  Later that evening, I got one of my favorite text messages:

I admit that I'm a strange car-obsessed man, but I think it's a good kind of strange.

How do you create a car person?

I really enjoy The Car Podcast with Chris Harris and Friends.  These are car-obsessed folks about my age, so unsurprisingly, I connect with many of their opinions about cars.  They recently recorded a live podcast during which they took questions from the audience.

One question I really liked was, "If you had 24 hours to turn a non-petrolhead into a petrolhead, what are you doing, where are you going, and what kind of car are you driving."  While the answers were all reasonable, I thought they were reasonable if you were predisposed to liking cars.  

For example, taking a 964 RS to a race track is fun if you like driving cars on race tracks.  Passengers, especially if they're not predisposed to that experience.  Driving on a race track is exciting and fun.  Being a passenger on a race track can make you nauseous.

My answer is much different.  My answer is simple - let the person experience a car where the roof disappears.  Why?  Because I think almost everything is better outside.  There's something about infinite space in your peripheral vision that is appealing.  I like being outside, as it lets the eye wander and explore:

You don't even have to be in a place of particular magnificence, just walking through a park is a delight:

An open top car is simply magic.  Speed is irrelevant.  You can be going 20 mph or 120 mph, and it's equally magical.  Pottering along slowly, you are immersed in your surroundings, kind of like riding a motorcycle.  You smell flowers, feel the chill in the air when you drive close to a lake or through a grove of trees.  You can't help but smile.

I honestly don't think it matters which convertible you put a person in.  Without a roof, everything beyond the windshield's frame extends your visibility to infinity.

While all open top cars are magical, there's something special about a two-seat roadster.  It's whimsical, frivolous, and fun.  It's potent, powerful, and purposeful.  It's sleek, svelte, and sexy.  You end up with faces that look like this: 

 So, how would I create a car person?  I'd slide them into the driver's seat of a convertible, have them put the top down, watch them smile, and go for a drive.  The destination wouldn't matter.  Of course, a drive by the ocean or in the mountains would be magnificent and enhance the experience.  But even something as routine as dropping a kid off at school or getting groceries is transformed into an adventure.

If you need a car, plan on making a convertible part of your life at some point.  Trust me, it will be as transformational for you as it is for the car as its top disappears from view.

Joy

Automobiles are not merely transportation capsules.  They are art, inspiration, dreams fulfilled, future possibilities, magic.  Automobiles have the power to transform people's lives.  Automobiles are about emotion, about creating faces like this:

Cars are about wonder:

And delighting in the unexpected:

And about the visceral joy of something mechanical coming to life. 

<rant>

I originally hosted this video on YouTube, but it was taken down because of a violation of "child safety standards."  I filed an appeal, which was denied.  This makes zero sense to me, and Enzo isn't driving the car, he's just starting it.  Give me strength, this overly paranoid world.  I'm so irritated.

</rant>

And about the exhilarating feel of acceleration:

Magic cars transform their operators into joyous beings, dancing in the driver's seat:

In a world filled with transportation appliances, there are cars that kindle feelings of magic, of delight.  One of my favorite advertisements of all times captures the spirit of the automobile in a way I profoundly connect with:

When faced with the opportunity, choose joy.

Rolling

I really love to drive.  Driving anything makes me happy.  Sure, I like sports cars and motorcycles, but there is something equally fulfilling about loading up the minivan with the entire family and just going off on an adventure.  It does really matter what it is, from a non-syncromesh Fiat 500 to a Taycan, driving anything is interesting to me.

This past weekend, I got the opportunity to drive something new: a Silverado 2500 with the Duramax diesel and an Allison transmission.  I've driven pickup trucks before, so the Silverado itself isn't particularly exciting.  

That said, it did represent a first for me: towing live animals:  

My younger daughter is a passionate equestrian and had the opportunity to attend a 3 day eventing clinic run by Leslie Law and his wife, Lesley.  While she usually attends this type of event with a friend, that friend was out of town for her family vacation week and said to me, "Madeline really shouldn't miss this clinic, it's a great opportunity.  Can you drive a trailer?"

Well, the last time I drove a trailer, it was towing 247 horses:

Of course, that was a long time ago - I had hair and everything:

While I'm comfortable driving a trailer, I've never towed living creatures.  I wasn't apprehensive exactly, just aware of the responsibility!  Long story short, I took the unloaded rig for a test drive to get a feel for it.  The Silverado pulled the 2-horse Featherlite easily, almost as if it wasn't attached.  The diesel is simply awesome for towing, with torque everywhere, and the Allison transmission is amazingly smooth.  I did a four mile loop and felt comfortable.  This setup is much less intimidating than the other possibility - a Silverado 3500 dually with a gooseneck trailer.

Feeling confident and cautious, we loaded up a pair of horses and set out on our trip, roughly 120 miles straight south on US 31.  Before getting underway, I stopped to fuel up before heading south.  The fun thing about towing horses is that while the diesel is flowing in, you can pop into the trailer and say hello:

The biggest difference between towing a pair of live horses versus, erm, 247 passive ones, is to accelerate gingerly while turning.  You don't want to whip their heads around and sour them on trailer travel.  With that in mind, I slowly and carefully merged onto US 31 and headed south.  I told my daughter, "Well, let's just settle in, we're not in a hurry.  We'll just stay in the right lane and cruise south."

Well, that lasted about 1.8 miles until we came upon a tractor-trailer going under the speed limit.  Toeing into that Duramax, I eased from the travel lane into the passing lane to overtake.  The Silverado accelerated effortlessly, and pretty soon we were cruising along at my customary 5-7 over.  The diesel has plenty of torque and towed the loaded trailer easily.  The drive turned out to be uneventful, just munching miles with a heightened awareness of what was going on around me.

When we reached the destination, I backed the trailer up to the barn to make it easy to unload the horses, straw, and hay.  After unloading, I dropped the trailer and spent the rest of the time at the clinic driving the truck on its own.  Unladen, the diesel's power continued to surprise.

On its own, I just had to be aware of the comparatively poor turning circle and length when parking.  Beyond that, the truck was easy enough to drive.  I wouldn't want to drive one on a daily basis, but if you have to haul anything, it's a great choice.

The drive home was uneventful.  Just load the horses and head north.  Piece of cake.

I really love driving - anything, anytime.  Let's roll.

GLIful

So I'm pretty smitten with the GLI.  It's a great car that makes me look forward to driving it, every time.  You might say it fills me with glee.  With that in mind, I couldn't think of a more appropriate license plate:

How far we've come

I recently rolled 12,000 miles on the GLI and have been giving quite a bit of thought as to how fundamentally good of a car it is.  My mind wandered back to my teenage years, and to The Car that started my obsession with factory sleepers.  

It was 1987, and my favorite car magazine did a review of the BMW M5.  This picture!  While looking like a pretty ordinary BMW 5-series with chunkier wheels, tires, and a discreet spoiler, this picture really lit my fire.  I daydreamed about what it must feel like to momentarily fly over the top of a hill in a car that flies under the visual radar to all but the car-crazed.

Now, for the past year and a half, I've really enjoyed driving the GLI.  It's a daily delight, and I'm continually impressed by how competent it is.  I also like its subtle aggression:

Hmmm...it kind of reminds me of something:

Factory sleeper.  Subtle differentiation.  Decklid spoiler.  Looking at them side-by-side, one of the things that strikes me are how tall the cabin is on the M5 compared with the GLI, as well as the comparatively long overhangs.

My mind started wandering as I was driving one day about how the GLI compares to the original M5  from a performance perspective.  I imagined it would be pretty close.  But how close?

I took C/D's stats for the '87 M5 and compared them with the stats for the '19 GLI.  While you can go off and compare for yourself, I took the liberty of pulling out some of the key specifications:

	2019 GLI	1987 M5
Wheelbase	105.6	103.3
Length	185.2	189
Width	70.8	66.9
Height	56.8	55.7
Passenger volume	94	86
Trunk volume	14	14
Horsepower	228	256
Torque	258	243
Curb weight	3178	3504
C/D observed fuel economy	25	15
0-60	5.8	6.3
0-100	13.8	17.3
0-110	23.2	-
0-120	-	20.7
1/4 mile	14.4@102	14.6@95
Braking 70-0	153	166
Roadholding	.98 g	.83 g

Dimensionally, the cars are pretty similar.  While considerably shorter overall, the GLI has a longer wheelbase.  It's a bit wider and shorter as well.  Passenger volume is up significantly, and the two cars have equivalent trunk volumes.

The M5 was all about the engine.  The GLI gives up 28 hp and makes 15 more torque.  However, there's no comparing the sound of a naturally aspirated 6 compared with a turbo 4.  Just no difference.  I'll take the music of the 6 over the blown 4 any day.

Despite the power deficit, the GLI weighs almost 330 pounds less than the M5.  Dropping weight makes everything better, and that proves out in the acceleration numbers.  All numbers here are comparing the manual M5 with the manual GLI.  While the GLI does the quarter 0.2 seconds faster than the M5, it's is moving 7 mph faster.  After there, the GLI just keeps pulling.  The C/D data shows the M5 going to 110 in 23.2 while the GLI hits 120 in 20.7, so the gap just keeps widening.

The weight advantage also plays out in braking, and modern rubber certainly contributes to the roadholding difference.

The thing that is stunning but not surprising is the difference in fuel economy.  10 mpg better across the board.  That underscores what's impressed me consistently since getting into the GLI, as I frequently get over 36 mpg on the highway.  When driven sedately, the GLI sips fuel, and the abundance of torque makes short-shifting easy, proving that while you may buy horsepower, you mostly drive torque.  I regularly find myself tooling around town in 4th gear.

Now let's consider the pricing.  In 1987, the C/D M5 had an as-tested price of $48,470.  In 2021 dollars, that comes out to a bit over $118K.  Considering that C/D's 2019 M5 Competition had an as-tested price of $130K, that's pretty consistent.  Of course, the modern M5 is an entirely different beast, weighing over 4200 pounds with over 600 hp and a quarter time of 10.9 at 130 mph.  That's moving.  It needs a shade over 15 seconds to hit 150 mph.  That's seriously quick.

Meanwhile, the GLI come in around $30K.  Considering that its performance is comparable to the original M5 for about 25% of the price, I feel like it's a pretty remarkable value.  The GLI performs better, weighs less while carrying more safety gear (airbags, blind spot sensors), has more usable space, and gets significantly better mileage.

The fact that a "people's car" is so capable demonstrates just how far we've come and how good modern cars are.

Let's roll!

 After resisting externalizing cargo for at least a decade, our camping trip last summer was just too space constrained, if I'm honest.  We were really wedged into the van, using bungee cords to hold cargo in the back, having items stacked in the center aisle, behind people's feet, just anywhere it would fit.  Planning a southwestern adventure, it became clear that going external would create more space in the car and make everyone more comfortable and most likely happier.

There was much deliberation about how to go external.  Initially, I thought about a trailer hitch and a hitch-mounted cargo tray.  Depending on the system, accessing the tailgate could be challenging.  It also would strain the rear suspension, as weight would be added well aft of the van.

Eventually, I decided that a roof box was the way to go.  My local dealer did a fine job installing the roof rails and crossbars, and we ended up selecting the biggest possible roof box we could find - the Thule Motion XT XXL.  Good grief, it's a big beastie.  At over 7.5 feet long, more than three feet wide, and 1.5 feet tall, it represents an additional 22 cubic feet of space.  The thinking is that everything we need to sleep, including 9-person tent, camp chairs, camp table, and assorted tarps will fit easily.  Since it is so long, I'm also thinking that we can be more efficient from a packing standpoint by putting the sleeping bags in there, unrolled and flat.  We shall see, as we need to do a variety of test loads to determine what will fit while staying within the 165 pound load limit of the box itself.

Overall, on the van, it looks...big:

So big that you can see it when you look up through the sunroof.

It's not particularly large from the front, with comparatively small frontal area:

However, from the back, it's a different story.  Mostly because it looks like someone added another story to the van:

One of the features I really like is the variable position mounting system, allowing the box to be positioned on the roof rack while still allowing full tailgate access:

Securing it to the crossbars is very straightforward.  I haven't taken it for a test drive yet.  I'm looking forward to doing that this weekend to get a feel for wind noise, and to see if I can perceive any significant change in vehicle dynamics.

As an aside, one thing I thought was kind of funny was this picture from the owner's manual:

Where have I seen that shape before?  Ah yes, my dearly departed Passat:

I've always thought the Passat had clean, timeless, well-proportioned lines.  It really was a good-looking sedan back in 1998, and I think the design weathered time pretty well.