I don’t care about Toyota.  I haven’t for years. I’ve observed their place in the market and even expressed some degree of interest in a very small handful of their offerings over the last decade, but I’ve never really thought much of them one way or another. That may become a somewhat difficult assertion to defend after the next thousand words or so, but take my word for it.

See, many car enthusiasts care a great deal about Toyota. They’re the ones who take every opportunity to tell you how awful their cars are, how dreadfully overrated they are, and how lifeless and soulless and dishwasher-like they are. They tell you how cheap and how poorly-engineered they are. You want a Prius? This guy tells you to get a used Jetta TDI. Your mom wants a nice, reliable Camry? Tell her to get a Volvo! You like the old MR2s? Wise up and get a 944. You want a MkIV Supra turbo? Supercharge an old F-Body for 1/3 of the price.

It’s the same thing, you know, just without all that Japanese suck.

But I’ve managed to maintain a well-moderated apathy toward our appliance-pushing overlords. After all, a certain degree of objectivity never hurt anybody.  I try to give the best advice I can and take into account that not everybody has the same needs I do. As the owner of two beat-to-hell NA Miatas, I think this is a realistic mindset. In fact, if my best friend came to me today asking whether he should buy a new Toyota in the face of the recall, I’d tell him to do exactly what he would have done had this whole mess never come to light.

“You’d let your best friend buy a Toyota!? Why!?”

Because I have a better chance of being crushed to death by a tree here in my computer chair before I finish writing this article than he does of being killed by unintended acceleration.

Like, ever.

Seriously. Lightning kills nearly 60 people a year. “Unintended acceleration” has allegedly killed twenty people period. I’ll give you 500:1 odds your death behind the wheel of a Toyota product has nothing to do with the spirit of Emperor Hirohito reaching up and taking his vengeance upon you in your (American-built) Japanese machine of death.

But the statistics aren’t really the point, are they? No. Toyota violated our trust. After decades spent cultivating an image of safety and reliability, suddenly they’ve been caught with their pants down. How long has this been going on? How many vehicles are really affected? They’re now Viggo Mortensen in A History of Violence. People have died and the blood trails lead to Toyota-shi. This is not the company we knew yesterday.

But instead of coming to us with reassurances and promises and pleas of forgiveness, Toyota did what modern companies do. They huddled up with their lawyers and their marketers and their public relations department and, outwardly anyway, did a whole lot of nothing. And then the Feds came a-calling. And like any good corporation with shareholders to worry about, they “voluntarily” recalled a slew of models (right before the government was set to mandate it), pointing to a faulty gas pedal as the reason for all these reports.

To the average Toyota buyer, a faulty pedal assembly makes perfect sense. After all, that’s what makes the car go, right? And if it’s going too much, well, it must be that there “go pedal” that we hear journalists talk about so much.

I know I’m not the only one scratching my head over this. Not being intimately familiar with the accelerator pedal mechanism and the throttle position sensors and such Toyota specs, I’m in no position to say that they’re wrong. At the same time though, Toyota’s public relations strategy in all this has been so half-assed that the smart player across the table is going to read a bluff.

But a bluff of that magnitude could never be worth the risk, could it? The odds are in Toyota’s favor. Twenty semi-confirmed deaths in five or so years of production is a figure that walks a fine line of statistical significance. It’s entirely plausible that Toyota could issue a feel-good fix to salvage their remaining credibility and have the odds work out in their favor for months–years even.

Before you mistake me for a conspiracy theorist at worst, or the world’s most cynical blogger at best, let me say this: I am not accusing Toyota of lying to the public, to the government, or to anybody else. I’m only trying to illustrate the depth of my skepticism due in no small part to Toyota’s inability to project any confidence in their fix. At no point since the floor mat debacle last fall has Toyota put forth a strong case that they know exactly what is wrong with their cars. Nothing. Nada. Zip. And then to suddenly come out with this solution, just as dealers were on the verge of panic?  And oh, by the way, it’s only the faulty part built by the American supplier (to Toyota’s specifications) and not the DENSO part (also built to Toyota’s specifications, just not in the United States of America). So now the dealers have a solution for concerned owners and they have yet another convenient line to feed potential buyers about the quality of American-built cars.

I’m not saying it’s contrived. I’m just saying it’s convenient.

Feel-good-fix or not, Toyota came too late with their admission and yet far too quickly with their solution. Only time will tell whether continued trust is misplaced or deserved. Toyota hasn’t lost me, but they never had me to begin with either. At this point, it’s up to them to convince me that they’re still worthy of my apathy. I’d hate to have to care.

Photo courtesy of Volkswagen of America

This installment of Rational Bohemian was scheduled to be a eulogy for the New Beetle, since Volkswagen hasn’t really troubled themselves with anything of the sort. Attendees of the L.A. Auto Show did get a long-expected, totally overdue announcement of the model’s retirement and the inevitable commemorative special editions, but that was about it.

So I’ll say it now, in brief: New Beetle, I adore you and I’ll miss you. Your not-insignificant role in reviving the brand will not be forgotten (by me, anyway). In light of a press release I received last week, though, there are more pressing concerns; a respectful and sentimental sendoff will have to wait.
Because what the hell, Volkswagen? Really, what the hell?

As much as I lament the passing of the New Beetle, its time had come. Did Volkswagen have to insult its memory, though, by immediately dusting off the old Punch Buggy game and trotting it out like a prizewinning show horse? Though the phenomenon of walloping companions in the shoulder upon sight of a Bug dates back to the sixties (according to Wikipedia, and who are we to argue?) it’s safe to say the New Beetle’s 1998 launch and subsequent lifespan introduced the game to a few new generations. Now that the car’s on its way out, logically, it’s a good time to launch a marketing campaign based on the meme, right?

Well, timing’s never been VW’s strong suit. Though I’d eagerly anticipated a campaign from their new ad agency, Deutsch LA, I was left cold by the announcement of “Punch Dub,” featuring a cameo from boneheaded man-child Tracy Morgan (otherwise known as the reason I haven’t watched “30 Rock” in about two seasons).

To be honest, I’m not intimately familiar with Tracy Morgan’s work beyond the current NBC sitcom, but “Half Baked” sucked, sketch and standup comedy irritate me, and I’m not terribly optimistic beyond that. His “30 Rock” character, Tracy Jordan, is a comedian/actor who, after starring in films such as “Who Dat Ninja?” and “Honky Grandma Be Trippin’,” was added to the cast of the fictional show-within-a-show, at the insistence of upper management, to add a little diversity. In other words, y’know, he plays himself. (Not that I’m slamming him for that alone; Tina Fey also plays a thinly-veiled autobiographical character. “30 Rock’s” biggest departure from reality is Alec Baldwin’s portrayal of a Republican.)

Bitching about celebrity endorsements feels like the realm of amateurs, but I’ve always strongly believed that VW deserved, and was capable of, something much greater. I’ve written editorials applauding VW’s marketing decisions, especially the excellent New Beetle “Force of Good” ads circa 2005 that celebrated the uniqueness of real Beetle owners. I think it’s awesome that for “Punch Dub,” VW found the guy who claims to have invented Punch Buggy; it shows the path hasn’t been lost completely.

Let’s grant that even the best marketing teams are sometimes at a loss. Lucky for us, we can compare two pretty brunettes preening for bland-ish family vehicles. When Jill Wagner stepped up for the Milan, with her tight blue sweater and shiny hair, the Mercury brand finally had some sort of personality: until then, when had a Mercury spot ever been reposted ad nauseam? The demographic that was thrilled in the pants with that campaign later scratched their heads over Brooke Shields’ presence in Routan commercials. A lovely woman is usually a welcome addition, so what was the problem? Brooke Shields simply brought no authority to the table and thus, her endorsement seemed empty, whereas Mercury had the relative advantage of a blank slate for which any smiling face would suffice. A random celebrity doesn’t cut it for VW, not without a sense of purpose, though a celebrity appearance is not an automatic failure. Peter Stormare’s appearance in the “Unpimp” series is a notable exception to the rule because his skills were particularly suited to the ad; he was simply one of the elements of a memorable commercial.

So what does Tracy Morgan bring to the table, other than his undeniable blackness? He’s made a career of milking a stereotype. He’s such a living, breathing caricature that in a “30 Rock” episode exploring the dynamics of celebrity endorsements, of all things, a cartoon rendering of Tracy Jordan needed only dreadlocks to turn into a cartoon of Whoopi Goldberg. At the risk of being crass, it’s worth noting that if “diversity” is VW’s ultimate goal, and I suspect it is, Tracy Morgan-Jordan’s entourage of “Grizz” Chapman and “Dot Com” Kevin Brown would be far superior candidates: warm, charming, overwhelmingly more intelligent and reasonably skilled in the fine art of voice modulation. After all, if a refined, classy, wholesome pre-fall Tiger Woods couldn’t sell Buicks, what makes VW think Tracy Morgan can boost Passat numbers?

And that pisses me off even more. Tracy Morgan’s never-ending one man minstrel show is actually the less disrespectful half of this equation.

Remember, if you will, that the New Beetle was recently laid to rest, with commemorative Final Editions available this spring. Remember also that I pointed out the ridiculousness of designing a marketing campaign around a retired model. VW and I were in agreement on one point, at least, which is why, as far as I can discern, the iconic New Beetle will not be sharing the stage. “Punch Dub” is supposed to boost the rest of the product lineup absent any bug shapes whatsoever. Hence the name change from “Bug” to “Dub,” I guess. Plus, it sounds more “diverse” that way, don’t it?

For the last few years of its life, the New Beetle was largely ignored. On the heels of its life support being disconnected, VW finally claims a meme it’s ignored for so long, and for which the New Beetle must be given at least a shred of credit, and for what? To inject some life into its current model lineup with a sad clown. VW says the ads are “designed to increase model awareness and familiarity by reminding consumers of all the Volkswagens on the road.” Well, that’s certainly a noble goal, but what could “Punch Dub” have done for the New Beetle?

My warm and fuzzy feelings for Volkswagen have a bit of mileage before they’ve run out completely, fueled by my lifelong fondness for the brand if not the actual cars. That’s why I hope Tracy Morgan and “Punch Dub” aren’t a complete catastrophe. VW should hold itself to a higher standard, and that’s why I look forward to browsing the wares at the Chicago Auto Show next week, and why I hope to get a few minutes of relative privacy with one of the last New Beetles to sit in a spotlight.

I have faith that the Punch Buggy will get its swan song. See you at the Chicago Auto Show.

On the left coast, Eyesore Racing picked up the overall win at the ChumpCar race at the Streets of Willow Springs driving a $500 Mazda Miata.

And in Florida, Action Express Racing picked up the 24 Hours at Daytona overall win in their $500,000 Porsche.

Grand Touring class at Daytona was won by the #70 SpeedSource Mazda.

To complete the weekend’s Two Days, Two Men, Two Coasts, Two Races coverage, at Daytona, Patrick Dempsey, star of the ABC hit drama Grey’s Anatomy, finished 6th in the GT class, besting Speed Sport Life’s Rob Krider on the West Coast who was only able to finish 8th after a blown head gasket at ChumpCar. We’re going to have to put a check mark in the Dempsey catagory on this one since he gets the ladies for free while Krider had to get a hooker (a tow hook, that is).

On the West Coast, Krider Racing was in a heated podium battle as the sun came up during the ChumpCar World Series at the Streets of Willow Springs, unfortunately, what was heated was the motor. Blown head gasket three hours before the finish. Even with the Integra parked and leaking, Krider Racing may squeek out a top ten finish. Eyesore Racing in their Miata lead the ChumpCar race with an hour to go.

On the East Coast, Patrick Dempsey is looking at a top ten finish in his RX-8 at the 24 hours of Daytona (that is if his head gasket can hold on a bit longer). The Camaros are leading the GT class.

Rob Krider puts the Big Sausage Pizza Delivery Acura Integra into second place, after some blistering fast pit stops from the Krider Racing crew, as the sun set at ChumpCar on the West Coast. Patrick Dempsey leads a group of GT cars through the rain at Daytona in “the show” on the East Coast.

As the sun set at Daytona, Ganassi’s Riley, driven by Montoya, Dixon and Franchitti leads the DP class at the 24 at Daytona. At the Streets of Willow Springs, Eyesore Racing in their turbo charged Miata leads the ChumpCar race.

Green flags have dropped on both coasts. On one coast you can earn a gold Rolex watch at the 24 Hours of Daytona, on the other coast, a broken Timex if you’re lucky at ChumpCar. We’ll keep the updates coming.

This weekend in beautiful Daytona Florida on the East Coast, The Rolex 24 Hours at Daytona is being held and million dollar machines are being flogged around the track by celebrities like Patrick Dempsey.

Also this weekend in the desert of Southern California on the West Coast the ChumpCar World Series is being run at the Streets of Willow Springs and $500 machines are being flogged around the track by people you’ve probably never heard of.

Speed Sport Life is going to try to give you live updates of both races as the weekend unfolds.

Daytona has a storied past, rich with motorsport legends and famous drivers.

The Streets of Willow Springs is a narrow racetrack between a cactus and a real racetrack simply called Willow Springs.

Patrick Dempsey is a famous actor who women want to throw their panties at.

Rob Krider is an unfamous blogger who has his wife throw trash bags at, “take out the garbage.”

This is the shop at Dempsey Racing.

Here is where Krider Racing works on their car, Performance In-Frame Tuning.

This is the GT grid at Daytona. The machines are beautiful.

This is some of the cars at ChumpCar. The machines are hideous.

Two coasts, very different, two races, extremely different, yet also very much the same 24 hour battle against time and fatigue. We’ll keep you updated as both races unfold.

“…is going to buy whatever Apple unveils today, right at 5pm, no matter what it is.” — Seen on Facebook, January 27, 2010

As I write this, it has been fourteen hours since Apple’s Steve Jobs revealed the iPad to a crowd of cheering followers, er, customers, this morning. For what it’s worth, I’m in no way impressed with the new iProduct. I’ve been working with Apple systems since I hacked up a “worm race” program for the Apple ][+ back in 1982, and I am writing this column on a 24″ iMac, so I’m very far from being anti-Apple — but this new tablet doesn’t do it for me.

Not that Mr. Jobs would care. As a company, Apple is very far from being the hacker-friendly maker of expansion-slot-packed beige wedges I knew as a child. One could argue that Apple isn’t even really a computer company any more, insofar as they don’t devote a lot of attention to making computers. Instead, Apple is a producer of design-centric goods which offer little more utility than their competitors while commanding significantly higher prices. Hmm… I think that means that Apple is a luxury brand. Don’t you?

After all, “luxury” doesn’t necessarily mean Brioni suits, megayachts, or any of the verses from Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain”. Rather, a luxury is simply something that one does not need, but that one wants, often for no other reason than the social standing or perceived prestige associated with the item. Luxury, in other words, is something that offers a boost in self-image and image within a community. The iPad will be a luxury item. Nobody needs an iPad. The functionality of the iPad doesn’t justify the price. There are cheaper, uglier, more drab devices that provide about the same utility for less money.

I would suggest that most iPad purchasers will be people who identify with the Apple brand and its cultural associations. If iPads were invisible, or if they looked exactly like Dell laptops, they would collect dust on the brightly lit Apple Store shelves. Instead, they will fly off those shelves and into the hands of people who want to be seen with the “right” product. Regardless of price. Regardless of function. Regardless of utility. Image is the key. And that is why the Toyota Prius is a successful luxury product. It’s also why the Honda Insight has cratered in the market, and it’s why the Prius spinoff, the hopelessly dumpy HS250h, is utterly doomed.

I can see your lips moving. “What? A $23,000 hatchback with a battery pack is a luxury car? Are you kidding?” Now waiiiiiiiit a minute. I didn’t say that the Prius was a luxury car. I said it was a luxury product. There’s an important distinction between the two. I’ve written quite a bit about the traditional luxury car and its uncertain fate. I’m a devoted student of velour seats, Landau tops, and crystal hood ornaments. What we’re discussing here, however, has nothing to do with Cadillacs or Camargues. Luxury cars are primarily purchased to convey the impression of wealth, and although the Prius has stellar demographics, it’s not just a car for the wealthy. Middle-class families buy them. Fixed-income retirees buy them. Feature for feature, a Prius is no more expensive than a Camry.

On the other hand, by that same feature-by-feature yardstick, a Prius is much more expensive than a Hyundai Elantra, and that’s where the issue of “luxury” comes in. The actual mathematics of the so-called hybrid tax are too involved to get into here, but I think it’s fair to say that nobody has yet convincingly argued that Prius ownership is as economically sensible as Elantra ownership, at least not in a world where gas sells for two or three bucks a gallon and replacement battery packs are far from cheap.

No, people don’t buy the Toyopod for financial reasons. If you asked Prius owners why they made the choice to buy their car, I imagine you would hear a lot about the environment, sustainability, reducing dependence on foreign oil, blah blah blah. That’s all crap. I know that’s all crap because the Honda Insight is rusting on dealer lots as we speak. That’s right. The Insight is nearly as efficient as the Prius, is just as reliable, and sells for less — but nobody wants one. And if you think the Insight is a marketplace failure, look at the car rusting on the lot next to it, which is probably a Honda Civic Hybrid. If you want to know if the Civic you are examining is a Hybrid, look for the two telltale signs: disc-like polished aluminum wheels, and thick, dusty cobwebs between those polished wheels and the fenders surrounding them. Nobody buys Civic Hybrids. Nobody bought Accord Hybrids, either. They are (or were, as the case may be) good cars, but they are not Priuses.

When I think of the current Insight, I think of the many “all-in-one” computers introduced in the wake of the original iMac’s roaring success. There was a time when every computer manufacturer on the planet made an all-in-one, from the now-defunct Monorail to Dell. Most of them had far more computing power than the iMac, even if they suffered from the clunky Windows OS of the time. And they all cost far less. But none of them had the sheer magic design or peerless pedigree of the iMac, so they failed. Nobody wants to be seen with an imitation iMac. The iMac is associated with “cool” people — designers, freelancers, artsy folks who live in San Francisco and bicycle to work. Imitation iMacs are issued to corporate drones in dank cubicles in order to compete the destruction of their worthless souls. Which end user would you rather be? I thought so.

Over time, that perceived coolness spread to the rest of Apple’s insanely great lineup, and it’s now a self-fulfilling stereotype. Hipsters buy Apple products because they are cool, and those products are cool because they are used by hipsters. Simple as that. If you want to know how Apple’s core demographic views the people who buy imitation Apple stuff, try pulling a Microsoft Zune out of your pocket in the middle of People’s Park. You will be lucky if the gentle, loving souls around you don’t kick your flyover-country ass all the way back to Wal-Mart. Cool people don’t want uncool people around them. The uncoolness might be catching, and it’s a real bummer anyway, man. So if you want to be cool, you’d better be prepared to pay the Cupertino Tax, because the cool people all pay it without hesitation, and the cool people are buying Apple.

What comes next will be tough for some of us to accept. Take a deep breath, then read this next sentence. The cool people out there are buying the Prius. No, they aren’t “cool” in the Steve McQueen sense of the term. Many of them are actively frightened by everything from trans fats to mild thunderstorms. I’ve never seen a Prius in a rap video, and I’ve never seen anybody driving one who looks like they could bench their own salad-starved weight. We all know the stereotypes about hybrid drivers, and these stereotypes are, frankly, usually true. If James Dean were here, he’d flick his cigarette in their lemon-sucking, tobacco-averse faces.

Unfortunately for me, and for many of you, this ain’t 1955 any more. Kids aren’t having fumbling, terrified sex in the back of hopped-up Chevrolets; they’re creating shot-by-shot remakes of gonzo porn in their own rooms, surrounded by iMacs, the Internet, and their amicably-separated parents’ indulgent approval. Hot, sweaty, bad-ass speed is for old men and white trash. The cool kids don’t want cars, and if they have to have a car, they want it to be one that is as un-car-like as possible. Which means buying a Prius, and paying extra for the name and the design. They have no problem paying extra for a name and a design, because most of them have been doing it ever since they got their first iPod.

If all you want is an economical, affordable car, Hyundai and Kia have you covered. If you want a greenwash on that, Honda would love to sell you an Insight. Really, they would. Call today. There’s a deal. I promise. But if you want the right look… if you want to be associated with the right people… if you want the same sense of ironclad consumer rightness that every iPad owner in North America will have, then you need to buy a Prius. Nothing else will do. If you buy an Insight, you’ll have to explain why you didn’t buy a Prius. People will ask you if you own a Zune. If you buy a Civic Hybrid, then some self-righteous woman in cat-eye glasses will stop you in the university parking lot and tell you that your sports car is killing the environment. If you buy a plain Corolla and save seven grand, the word will spread that you stole the car from your fresh-off-the-boat Pakistani roommate. Don’t bother to “think different” here. Put an iPod and an iPad in your Prius and relax, knowing that you are just as unique as everyone else in your social group.

And if your parents tell you that they are considering a Lexus HS250h, for the love of the God in which your yoga teacher professes not to believe, stop them. Tell them about the Sears Tele-Games. You see, back in 1977, the Atari VCS game system came out. They called it the 2600 later, but to begin with it was just the VCS. It was cool and every kid had to have one. Sears wanted in on the action, and they were in the habit of re-branding things, which is why you can still buy a KitchenAid microwave with “Kenmore” on the door. So they took the Atari VCS and relabeled it as the “Sears Tele-Games”. Loving parents brought Tele-Games consoles home to incandescently furious kids. “WHAT THE HELL, MOM! THIS IS NOT AN ATARI!”

“The man at Sears said it was the same, and it plays Atari games.”

“DOES IT SAY ATARI ON IT? MOMMMMMMMMMMMM!”

The Lexus HS250h is a Prius with a trunk. It costs ten grand more, and although it has a nicer interior than its cousin, the Sears Tele-Games had cool-ass burl walnut trim and it still sucked, so be aware. Worst of all, it doesn’t say “Prius” on it, which means you will have to explain to everybody why your parents hate the environment. Don’t buy one. Nobody’s buying one, which is why Lexus is leasing that model for just about free right now. Toyota is learning the hard way what Honda, Ford, and GM already know. “Hybrid” is a pretty meaningless badge. It’s the “Prius” one that counts.

Amazingly, Toyota is going to capitalize on this success by drafting in a smaller “Prius” in a year or so. We saw it as the “FT-CH Concept” in Detroit. It’s a hell of an idea, and I know it’s a hell of an idea, because Apple already had it. It was called the iPod Nano. Look for the little Prius to be as hot as the Nano. And the likely success of the iPad makes me think there’s room for a bigger, more expensive Prius in the future. Not as a Lexus, but as a Prius Plus. In the space of a few years, “Prius” has joined Apple on the List Of Perfect Brands. I think you will be able to buy all sorts of Prius-branded cars in the future. But if what I saw today is any indication, don’t expect them to come with, er, complete plug-in capability.

The first time I saw a Citroen C6 was in Tel Aviv’s fashionable harbour district. Israel is a relatively wealthy country, with a GDP on par with many EU states. Israel is also founded on socialist principles and cars are taxed at 110% of the MSRP. Fuel is similarly expensive. Most cars are understandably small and diesel powered. Even the few wealthy big shots that can afford something bigger than a compact car drive smaller displacement luxury sedans, like Mercedes S320s and BMW 520is.
 
I don’t know what kind of engine the C6 had, but the sleek, quasi-5 door profile stood out from the sea of white Mazda 3s and Subaru Imprezas in a way that a DS19 must have stood out from the legions of crap European tin-can deathtraps in 1960’s Paris.
 
Citroen cars have not been available in North America for some time, but in a few months time, we’ll be able to enjoy the Jaguar XJ, a car that looks French, feels British and has Indian ownership.

I admired the Jaguar of old  and their audacity to charge full price for a dated (I say elegant) design devoid of profligate gearboxes (an 8-speed auto, really?), overwrought computer interfaces and “look at my tax bracket” aesthetics. This might have worked in an epoch when humility was valued, but as long as overnight success is valued above hard work and clothes with exterior labels are desired, a car like the old XJ is destined to fail. And it did. Jaguar is seen as an “old man’s car”, and a radical break from the past was deemed necessary. The British couldn’t possibly bear to emulate the Germans; too cold and technocratic, with too many negative historical connotations. The answer instead lay with continental Europe, and their traditional foils, the French.
 
The much criticized and very Gallic rear three quarter view is polarizing in a way that the Audi A8 is generic. I happen to like both, and assure you that the XJ looks fantastic in person. The dark hues of the XJs at the 2010 Detroit show didn’t give the best chance to get a visual impression, but the surfaces of the car are strong, with few afterthoughts disguised  as avant-garde details. The “mouth breather” grille treatment common on so many cars is an eyesore, but it must be there in the name of crash regulations. While the outside emulates a French executive car, the interior eschews the usual Franco austerity and poor materials for a traditionally Jaguar look. Rich slabs of wood line the door panels, with the B&W speakers inlaid. The dash is lined with high quality leather, but the examples at Detroit had slightly wonky fitment and larger than expected panel gaps. How appropriate.
 
I haven’t had the chance to drive the car yet, but having driven the new XKR, I’m hoping that the blown 5.0 V8 will have the same Spitfire (plane, not Triumph) like roar, the same muscle car lateral movement when you floor it in second gear, and embody the traditional Jaguar values of grace, pace and space.
 
In my eyes, the only viable options in this class are the Jag and the Audi A8. People complain that the new A8 is derivative and boring, but to me it is the zenith of discretion and subtlety. I happen to like Audi’s new styling direction, and have always liked the A8 itself. Similarly, the Jag still holds a place in my heart as a more extroverted alternative. Byron correctly asserted that the new styling direction was necessary, because “the car looked the same as one you would buy 25 years ago.” To me, that was the whole point of the XJ; when’s the last time you’ve seen a Saville Row suit with a one-button stance, a ventless jacket or (god forbid) synthetic fabrics?
 
The S-Class and 7-Series, as competent as they may be, have been denigrated into vulgar commodities. If driving a Miata makes you gay, then driving one of these two makes you a professional athlete or rapper. It’s almost cliche to buy an S550 if you’ve “arrived” and an S63 if you are especially ostentatious. The 7-Series is a pastiche of elements from the Lexus LS460 and Maserati Quattroporte, two cars that could not be more opposite if one were named Oscar and one Felix. Perhaps it aspires to bridge the gap between the two, but both are unacceptable choices, the Lexus for its sterile nature, the Maserati for spending more time in the service bay than the driveway.
 
Like the Hebrews who were forced to wander the desert for 40 years until the slave generation died off, Jaguar had to remain in limbo until the X-Type and S-Type, remnants of its unprofitable past, were expunged. The previous Moses-like XJ is gone, replaced by its Joshua, the new XJ, ready to lead the brand into the promised land of upscale driveways. The entire line-up is handsome, rapid and well-priced relative to the competition. But ultimately, the market is a popularity contest, with flash and labels considered desirable,  and the people voting with their wallets. Discretion hasn’t exactly done well in this segment either.

There is that car down the street that has been sitting stagnant in that guy’s front yard for way too long. The left rear tire is flat, but other than that, the car appears to be in pretty good shape. Your buddy from high school, the one who got a C in metal shop, says if you buy the car he’ll weld a cage in it. You go down to talk to the guy to see what he wants for the car. His wife answers the door and says if you get “that piece of crap” out of their yard it’s yours to keep. You just scored a car for free, but because she couldn’t find the paperwork, you can’t register it for the street. Now what? Well, the ChumpCar World Series, the endurance racing series for $500 cars, is coming to a track near your town. Grab your Costco sockets and get to work. You’re about to become a racecar driver!

THE COST

Even though the car was a freebie, you’re still going to spend a few bones earning your ChumpCar achievement patch. The car has to have all of the required safety equipment (read the rules here). And, of course, your ass has to be wrapped in the proper safety gear too. Keeping yourself alive while racing isn’t a cheap thing to do. For you folks who don’t already have all of this fancy gear and need the whole lot, I/O Port Racing Supplies has put together an unreal driver package deal using Bell racing products.

Once the car is outfitted with safety gear and you’ve got yourself looking like Michael Schumacher in your new red driving suit, you still need to fork over the ChumpCar entry fee of $500 for the car, plus $100 per driver (four drivers minimum, six drivers maximum). Each driver is required to have a ChumpCar license ($50 each, for the year) and rookies need to go to “Playschool My First Car Race” class ($25 each). That’s right, this stuff is sort of adding up. Don’t forget you’re going to need to put gas in that tank for 24 hours straight –advancing the timing for that 110 octane race gas at $7.50 a gallon is really starting to look like a dumbass idea now.

This is cheap racing, but racing ain’t cheap no matter how you slice it. My advice, get a student loan and go have some fun.

SANCTIONING BODY

The ChumpCar World Series is run by John Condren, who owned Altamont Motorsports Park (where the first few 24 Hours of LeMons races were held). Altamont was a paved oval “circle track” with an option to run a road course through the infield (think Daytona, only smaller and without the Florida humidity). Circle track racers have been doing low buck “claimer” racing for years. For banger classes, “Hornets” classes, or street stock classes, were all the same thing: cheap cars, limited modifications, lots of racing. To keep competition equal if a car was suspected of being a little too fast, the competitors could buy it for $500, minus some safety gear. ChumpCar is the road racing version of this same concept.

THE HIGH

Blasting down a straight away, rowing through the gears, side by side with another racecar, with the exhaust piercing your ears as you try to out brake the other guy as you both head into a tight corner is quintessentially epic. This is the ultimate high in motorsports, head to head, door to door action. And all of this can be yours for a fraction of the price it would cost to road race with the SCCA or NASA. If you try it, I guarantee you’ll love it.

The ChumpCar series doesn’t have the huge entry count that other similar series have which means the track is wide open, resulting in faster lap times and more aggressive racing. If you put two wheels off at ChumpCar you will not earn a black flag. You get to race hard. The $500 question is: Can your $500 car go the distance while being flogged around the track at Mach 2 for fourteen hours? Eh, probably not.

CAR WEAR

You won’t be borrowing your mom’s car and sneaking off to compete in ChumpCar. This series is for dedicated $500 racecars. As previously mentioned you’ll need a roll-cage, window net, 5-point harness, cut-off switch, the works. To keep things easy for guys building a car from the ground up I/O Port Racing Supplies has a car package deal, where you can get all the parts you need to convert your hooptie into a race prepared track machine while saving a few bucks.

When it comes to car wear, remember this is wheel to wheel racing, so on track damage is possible (some could argue, probable). Obviously after 14-24 hours of racing, you’ll need a new set of brake pads, rotors and tires (and maybe some new fenders, and worse case scenario a new car). One of the things to keep in mind when running ChumpCar is that this is claimer racing. If the ChumpCar staff things your $500 car is more like a $5,500 car, they may hand you $1,500 in cash and keep your ride ($500 car + $1,000 worth of safety gear). Don’t worry, they’ll let you take out your pricey racing seat, but you will be leaving the roll-cage. After the car is claimed by ChumpCar it will go on auction for all of the teams you just beat in the race to bid on. They would love to get their hands on your “stock,” “we found in the car in a field” 300 horsepower motor.

YOUR DAY

ChumpCar runs two separate race formats. One is a 24 race, the other is two separate 7 hour enduros. For the seven hour enduro weekend you will need to arrive Friday night and go through tech inspection, car value inspection and theme/engineering inspection. The first is just to make sure your car is safe. They want to make sure when they hit the kill switch on your car it actually turns off the motor, not just the cool light you put on the dashboard. The second inspection is to ensure your car is worth $500. A car valued at more than that will earn penalty laps. Cars that have a good theme or backwoods race engineering can earn bonus laps. ChumpCar donates a lot to different charities and if you bring $100 worth of canned food or make a cash donation to a particular charity you can buy up to a maximum of 5 bonus laps (which isn’t a bad idea if you brought a questionable $500 BMW and you are trying to offset some ugly penalty laps). There is no bribing at ChumpCar. They want the car value inspections to be cut and dry. Bring a $500 car and they will stay off your case, bring a $5,000 car and there are going to climb in your butt.

One of the things ChumpCar looks at specifically is the money spent on brake components. They have a 2X rule which means you can use any brake components you want as long as they are not worth more than two times the stock component (you may want to bring some documentation on this to plead your case, “I swear my Brembo’s only cost me $150 per caliper.”)

For the seven hour enduro race weekend, Saturday will have a race completely separate from Sunday’s event. The cool part about this format is if you lunch a motor early on Saturday, your weekend isn’t completely shot, and you still have a chance for glory. You’ll have all day (and night) to fix the car and have an equal shot at Sunday’s race. The awards ceremony for both events is held after Sunday’s checker.

For the true 24 hour format, inspection and registration is Saturday morning with an 11 o’clock green flag. Here is something important to remember, lights! As the sun sets you’ll realize pulling out the right front headlamp to get that extra rush of air to your Ebay, Chinese made, cold air intake was a bad idea.

With either format of race you attend at ChumpCar the racing is full bore. And the tracks they are scheduled to run are second to none, Willow Springs, Infineon, Sebring, VIR, Rockingham, you name it, their top notch and they are all over the ole U.S. of A.

With this type of racing on these types of courses, even if you aren’t leading the race or vying for the top spot, you are still having a blast. You are getting hours and hours of driving time which is tough to find in other sanctioning bodies. With the NHRA you might get about one single minute worth of track time (ironically the faster your car, the less track time you see). At ChumpCar you might see six hours of seat time, and that’s sharing the car with your friends.

THE PEOPLE

ChumpCar competitors are predominantly racers. These are guys (and gals) who want to be racing every single minute of their lives. Remember Steve McQueen’s famous line from the movie LeMans, “Life is racing, everything else is just waiting”? Well, with ChumpCar, there is no waiting, just racing. This series gives people a place to race hard while not spending hard. ChumpCar events have brought in drivers from all different sorts of motorsport disciplines from road racers to circle track drivers (who know how to make a piece of crap fast) and obviously 24 Hours of LeMons racing teams looking for more events to race their already established $500 cars. You will also find people who have never been in a race (unless you count the occasional stop light to stop light blitz). These folks are easy to spot as they are the ones inevitably facing the wrong way on the track. The good news for these types is ChumpCar has their rookie school for newbies to attend and learn important things like what the blue flag with the yellow stripe means (in case, you’re not in the know, it means move over, I’m passing you!).

GLORY

When it comes to glory, ChumpCar is good to its competitors. They hand out cool custom built welded trophies to the top three competitors, so a podium finish does actually mean something. Money is also handed out to the top three finishers. For a single 7 hour race, $1,000 to the winner, $350 to second place and $250 for third (most weekends hold two 7 hour events with separate winners and prizes –if you win both days, you get an additional $500 bonus totaling $2,500, not too shabby for a $500 car race). For a true 24 hour race the winner gets $2,000 large, $750 for second and $500 for third. Trust me, this is a lot more money than you will ever see autocrossing with the SCCA. There are also awards for best of show and best use of engineering which are worth $250 a piece. Are you going to be on the cover of AutoWeek after winning ChumpCar? No. But you might get your very own post on Jalopnik which some people would argue is actually cooler.

OH, YOU WANT TO WIN, DO YA?

To win this series you need to have a couple of things on your side, the first one being some racing luck. Anyone competing in an endurance race with a $500 car should consider themselves lucky if the car just finishes the race. The next thing your team needs is consistency. Can your team run hard and fast for 14 to 24 long hours? Maybe you can set the fastest lap time during hour one, then spend two hours in the pits replacing your front rotors. Believe me, this is not the way to win a long race. If you want to see that checkered fly over the top of your windshield (if your car even has one) you need to race cautiously. Fast, but not too fast. Careful, but not too careful. You need to find that sweet pace where you are making laps but keeping the car underneath you. Sounds easy? Not even. Once that green flag drops and the sound of that motor hitting 6,000 rpms blasts your ears, that last thing you’re thinking about is taking it easy.

RACER BOY GAUGE

Let’s review the Racer Boy gauge cluster here:

FUEL (Cost): The fuel gauge is below a quarter tank because after building the car, buying all the safety gear and paying all of the fees you said to yourself, “Autocrossing only costs me 25 bucks!”

RPMs (Adrenaline): The tachometer is at 6,700 RPMs because ChumpCar races are fast paced with lost of open track ahead of you. You will be screaming around the track and making insane passes while yelling in your helmet, “YEEEHAAAW!”

MPH (Danger): The speedometer is around 95 mph because you are racing wheel to wheel while operating a car worth less than the cost of a new bicycle, while surrounded by likewise crappy cars, each waiting do drop a wheel and pirouette over your roof at any given moment.

VOLTS (Time): The volts gauge is below a quarter because you spent more time than you thought you would adding two thousand dollars worth of safety equipment to a $500 car.

MILEAGE (Car Wear): The mileage is at 600,000 miles because racing any car for 24 hours is about the hardest thing you can do to a vehicle. Racing a $500 car for 24 hours is about the dumbest thing you can do with a vehicle (and consequently super fun).

CHECKERED FLAG

ChumpCar is a series to check out if you want real endurance racing experience at a fraction of the price. For a thousand obvious reasons, there will always be the comparison to the 24 Hours of LeMons. After racing in both series, I would say that the focus of ChumpCar is “inexpensive competition” where as LeMons has a flavor more in tune with “glue a toilet seat to the roof of your car and endure multiple full course yellow parade laps.” If wearing women’s stockings and gluing foam decorations to your car is your party (and it’s a good party), then LeMons is your home. If you want to just race hard as long as possible for as cheap as possible (and not have Judges Jonny Lieberman or Phil “Murilee” Greden screaming in your face), then ChumpCar may be what you’re looking for. See you at the track.