Adjust or Bust: Is Camber the Answer?

So the SCCA season is back. I attended the first event in my war torn Focus. I placed 4th in my class, so now it’s back to work. I’ve made all the nessecary excuses (The other guys have more horsepower, more parts on their cars, their bald tires make them go faster, etc) and now I just need to focus on the real roots of the problem. 1st major problem- I’m not as good at racing as they are. I really don’t want to address that problem because it stifles my ego, plus I can’t get more seat time if there are no races. So the second problem- my car is slow. But that is an intrinsic problem of the Ford Focus and throwing even more money at the car for a few horsepower is not the route I’m gonna go. So the last issue that I’ve decided is the root of my woes is the alignment. I have every part I could get my hands on to run a racing suspension- lowered stiffer springs, stronger shorter shocks, front and rear anti-roll bars and poli bushings all around. I even have front and rear camber adjustment equipment. All this and I’m running stock camber numbers! What the hell man? Performance parts without the performance, time to put an end to all that…

But before that, maybe I should explain what the hell I’m talking about. Camber? Huh? Camber is one of the changeable suspension specifications on every car. Camber is the amount of tilt a wheel has in perpendicular relation to the ground. As you’re facing the car, if the top of the wheels tilt toward each other, there is negative camber. If the top of the wheels point out and away from each other, there is positive camber. Camber is important to keep at manufacturer’s specifications for vehicles intended for daily driving. If the camber on a car is where it’s supposed to be, tires will wear evenly. In racing, tire wear comes second to lap times.

I’ve kept my camber at a stock setting because I was worried about prematurely wearing out my tires on the streets. But now, fuck it. The tires on the rear are the ones that came with the car (in 2001) and are as hard as rocks and the fronts are some worthless cheap Kumhos. So if I destroy those I won’t be heartbroken. Plus, it’s all about the handling. This weekend is open shop day, so I’ll do the alignment myself and it’ll be free. Can’t beat that!

An Age of Entitlement

Many contemporary senior citizens have been known to describe the current generation as one who feels entitled to handouts in life. These fogies have been overheard stating that we are all lazy and expect something from the world in exchange for merely existing. I propose that it is not a problem with a certain age group, it is a problem with everyone alive today in America. We have already met all of Maslow’s needs, so now we expect more. When people don’t have to worry about where their next meal is coming from, how safe they will be, or if they will be alive the next day, they begin to look at life with a new perspective- a perspective based on entitlement. We all feel that we are owed more. This is in part because of the nature of capitalism. We are taught to be good consumers, to buy up everything we can- even if our interest in the product is remote.

The idea that it is not just our age group, but everyone alive right now stems from my personal experience. I work with an older gentleman who is very lazy. He expects everything out of others, yet refuses to participate when he is called upon. Another older gentleman I talked to inadvertently dated himself when he said that, “young people these days have no work ethic. In the industrial revolution everyone worked and made this country what it is today.” His argument fails to include the ethical boundaries that people in that time period disregarded. There were no child labor laws, women were not allowed any positions of power, people of color were discriminated against, and ignorant business plans and ruthless CEOs ran a society fraught with immoral behavior. Now we are trying to save the environment whose destruction they pioneered. We are creating new sustainable methods for energy consumption, living, and working. There have been many advances in the medical field and in the computer sciences.

Some people would argue that these new technologies allow us to be more lazy. Instead of writing a letter, we can just send an e-mail or text message. Instead of going out and meeting people, there are websites designed for dating. In part, this argument is valid, it is easier to communicate. But this new ease only promotes networking. We can now have orders shipped from China without ever talking to anyone. We can be productive from our homes. Stay-at-home moms can hold down a day job online in a rural community. Nothing like this has ever been possible before. We used to have to move to the overcrowded city and struggle.

The societal laziness does not come from new technology. New technology gives us more resources to perform previously difficult tasks. The phenomenon is based in our own view of the world. We, as Americans, have been told that we are the best country on Earth. We have been given participation ribbons in grade school just for showing up. We are provided with thousands of consumer options everyday. We no longer have to worry about many of the problems the rest of the world faces. Our society is becoming service-oriented. We can have our shoes shined, our homes cleaned, our cars driven for us, our food cooked for us- all for a price. We have come to expect these services from everyone around us. This new age is one of entitlement for sure, but maybe we can still save it. There are hard workers out there, there is some work ethic left.

Japan, Watch Your Ass.

Korea is known for Communism (well, the Northern portion), the city of Seoul, Kimchi, my friend Daniel Rascon, and rice fields. Oh, and cheap crappy cars. Kia, Daewoo, and Hyundai all hail from the land of opportunity: South Korea. These cars have been typically little more than large tin cans affixed to roller skate wheels and sent out to the unsuspecting young women buyers of the Western world.

But not anymore. At least one company, Hyundai, is moving forward at an alarming rate. Alarming if you happen to be an engineer at Lexus or one of the boys over at Honda. Hyundai’s fellow countrymen at Daewoo have gone the way of Russian Communism, completely depleted with no widespread vocal support. Kia is still around and trying to be inventive, but falls short with their terrible German car knockoffs. Hyundai is really the only promising of the three. But all Japan needs is one major competitor. Hyundai has figured out a plan of attack- copy the best cars Japan is producing and make them more affordable. And it’s working.

The latest generation of the Hyundai Sonata is an exact ripoff of the Honda Accord. The wheelbase is similar, the cars are in the same class, the styling is identical if you squint, and the interior layout is very close. Now here’s the blasphemy: The Hyundai is better. Granted, Hyundai has no idea how to pull off the tiptronic (or manu-matic or auto-stick, or whatever you call it), but everything else is way above anything Hyundai has done before. The previous generations of Hyundais were terrible, thin, frail, sad machines. The latest Sonata is responsive, fast, chalked full of options, and doesn’t look half-bad (well, not as ugly as the Accord at least). After driving many examples of both, The Hyundai is the better car. Cheaper, better warranty, and more fun. It costs $18,600-$29,400 for the various trims of Accord and $17,300-$23,400 for the range of options offered with the Sonata. The Hyundai is a better deal.

Another Hyundai that catches the eye is their latest SUV. The sport utility vehicle is still unfortunately named after a Southwestern US city, yet the styling and manners have taken a very pleasing turn. The 2006 Santa Fe is gunning for the Japanese small SUVs, taking cues from the Toyota Rav-4 and the Honda CRV. The quality on all fronts has heightened: better radio capabilities, automatic windows, nicer seats, more leg room, and overall just better looking. It used to be embarrassing to own a Hyundai, but now it’s economical. There are still haters, but the next generation of wanna-be-land-of-the-rising-sun-autos is very promising. The recent Veracruz (a state in Mexico, incidentally) SUV and the rear-wheeled drive Tiburon are going to create a real-life, money making car company out of Hyundai yet.

All Wheel Drive Turbo: Only a Few Choices

“I’m Leif, Leif, Leif, Leif, I want this, I want this car and that car and any turbo car…”

I now must disclose the possible origin of the above quote. I really do want every car ever: I want a Unimog, a Miata, a MazdaSpeed 3, I want a Ford GT, and a GT3, and a Super Charged Range Rover Sport, and any M3. But recently I’ve really wanted something in AWD with a turbo.

The first two cars that come to mind are the Lancer Evo and the STi. They are each 300 horsepower, each all-wheel drive, and each pushing $30,00 per price tag. And each horribly ugly. With their atrocious rear wings ready for flight, their offensively large hood scoops (which even the Hemi Dart pulled off better), and their “street tuner rice box mod” appeal make me sick to my stomach. Sure they have power and AWD, but you’d expect that from their overbearing styling. Everyone over-rates the Evo and STi, claiming that they are the Alpha and the Omega, the Cream of the Crop, the (insert any cliche about anything overrated here), yet cars of this nature have been here this whole time. They’re just a little bit harder to find.

Take the Audi Quattrro Turbos of the 80’s. Here was a family sedan with turbo and AWD from a well respected German manufacturer. Do you want to stay in Japan? Then the Mazda 323 GTX is the best fix. AWD, hatchback that’s turbo charged. It was made in Japan for years, and was imported to the US for only 2 years. Between 1988 and 1989 only about 1,400 of these cars were sold. Ford has some potent AWD Turbos from over the years, but all were sold in Europe. The Cosworth Sierra and the Cosworth Escort were AWD Turbo beasts.

What do all of these AWDT’s have in common? They are all production cars made by car manufactures to get into rally. The WRC (World Rallye Championship) is a huge world-wide on-and-off road timed extravaganza. Well, not really an extravaganza, it’s just a race. But it’s the most badass race of all time! It tests skills of drivers on snow, ice, dirt, sand, rain, and tarmac. The race is so trying that the drivers have a co-driver to tell them what the road ahead is like.

So how does all of this apply to me, me, me, me? Well, I want a rally car, duh. A car that I can put huge fog lights onto, a car that I can custom fabricate street sign skid plates, and a car that I can actually take onto the dirt, not to mention over speed bumps. My current vehicle is street only, and some days feels like it should be track only. I’ve already complained about mentioned its rough ride. A pseudo Jeep with the power of forced induction ripping through gravel up the west side of the Sandias is what I dream of. Something that looks mean, but not extravagant; powerful, yet not overstated.

Sadly if I even follow through with my car dream of the month, it’ll probably have to be a Subaru. The $30k cars are too expensive, the Mazda is too difficult to find in good condition close to home, and the UK Fords cost thousands to import. I hate the way all WRXs look. If only a 2001 Impreza Wagon could be found for a good price. Then engine swapping we shall go.

Keep Focused

The parallels between cars and women have been defined and outlined in many conversations between myself and a dear friend (who now has a girlfriend, eh). But now I would like to delve into the analogy of a car as a child. This damn car, I have had it for 5 years. It was born in Mexico mid-2001 and I adopted it in December of that year. Well, I didn’t adopt it, I signed no papers, I paid no money– it was given to me. Ok, this analogy is not working at all. Cars are much more susceptible to getting wrecked and stolen. You can sell your car, but you can’t legally sell your child. I guess the only part of this insane-o analogy I want to hone in on is the fact that both are money pits. I have spent so much money on this car and there are still parts to be bought, still illnesses to be remedied, a windshield to be replaced. The horn doesn’t work. The right front suspension bushings or control arm or fucking something is making the most jarring of noises.  It’s like fathering a C average student. I have spent the past few years of my life investing in it and caring for it, but it still only barely passes for mediocrity. I can’t hit the damn thing. It wouldn’t do any good.

Another similarity between me and my car and the relationship one would have with his child is the idea of never-ending love. For some reason I am loyal to a car that no one else finds apealing. My child is the one that has panic attacks, kicks other kids, and will never amount to anything, but I still stand up for him.

But really, it’s not all bad. Even though the rear camber is out 2 or so degrees and it’s eating up tires like an Explorer perched atop Firestones, it still handles awesomely. I take out integras, civics, and neons on the auto cross track. A basic focus has more power, handles better, is designed smarter and is all around a better car than anything in its class. With the addition of my new sticky tires to the already lethal suspension, the car handles like it’s on tracks. Sadly the ride comfort is little better than a coal cart on those same tracks.

Summer Progress, an oxymoron?

So it’s now summer and I had so many plans. Well, I still have them. They include reading all those books I’ve been putting off. The plans also include writing more. But look at me now, it’s been a month since I last even typed anything out on here. And this is the easiest form of publishing!

So my book list includes Capote’s “In Cold Blood” and Orwell’s “1984.” I have these important books that I need to read to prove to everyone that I’m learn-ed. This relates to the real reason I vote. It’s not because I think my votes matter, I just want to answer people, “Yes, actually, I fuckin’ did vote!” When people ask me how American I am. But I digress.

I have grand plans. I need a writing job. My current job of driving other people’s cars is fun, and I’ve driven the hell out of some pretty badass cars, but it’s not really helping my career. I now know what getting the rear tires loose in a BMW M3 in the middle of an intersection is like, as well as getting a 505 hp C6 Corvette ZO6 sideways in an underground parking garage, not to mention the plush, yet powerful, feel of a new supercharged Range Rover, but really, will that help me get a writing job? Hopefully it is a start on the way to automotive writing. I know it has helped me. Now amidst car discussions with gear heads I can chime in, “I’ve driven an STi. Over-fucking-rated.” How annoying to my conversational peers.

So, a writing job. Most I’ve seen are volunteered internships. fuck. I really like the valet salary. But is a few thousand worth the opportunity to add a real job to my resumé? The coolest thing would be to internship for a car magazine, but that’s a few steps in the future. Valet-> PR Boner -> Newspaper Journalist-> Magazine Intern -> Magazine Contributor-> Magazine Writer. That’s a possible chain of events. I really would like to cut out the Newspaper bit. AP style is the absolute devil and news is so damn bland. I don’t want to consumer report, I want to offend and judge. I want to drive the shit out of a Murcielago, then talk about how poorly it was designed, and how, if only Lambo had consulted me, it could have been done much better.

P.S. Grassroots Motorsports Magazine rocks ass!

Hydrogen Honda?

Hydrogen is a gas that is combustible (see Hindenburg) and can be used to power cars. An article on MSN today (seen here) talks as if Honda is the first company ever to harness the power of Hydrogen. Ford did this back in 1993 with an Escort. Why is it that the Japanese companies are always credited with automotive ingenuity?

And a better question, why didn’t the article even talk about Hydrogen and its real-world ramifications? So what if two of these little cars are driving in SoCal?

Hydrogen (H₂) is a plentiful element. It is found in so many substances, including the air we breathe and the water we drink. One thing that Honda doesn’t tell you is that Hydrogen is very difficult and expensive to break down into its basic form. There are many ways to do it, all expensive.

One way is via electrolysis. This means that an electric current is sent through water and the Hydrogen gas gets separated from the water (H₂O -> H₂). This method actually uses more energy and resources than the end result H₂ can produce. So that method is out.

Another method is to steam reform natural gas. So to get a gas that is environment friendly, we have to use another gas that is not. The steaming process requires a lot of water. Not any old water, it has to be pure distilled water. We would have to use up our natural resource of water to create Hydrogen. We could also burn coal. One of the end results of coal burning is Hydrogen, but burning coal is counter-productive and releases toxic gasses and soot into the air. So there isn’t really a good way to get Hydrogen.

A major barrier between us and hydrogen powered cars is the major infrastructure that is in place. We have many industries that thrive on oil production. We have gas stations in every town in North America. We all own cars that suck down gas daily.

The final obstacle to overcome, besides actually getting H_2, is overcoming the current administration’s choke-hold of America via oil dependency. We have gone to war several times to protect our oil interests, our nation’s leaders own stock in oil companies, and our vice president used to work for Haliburton. Where does this leave us? We’re going to use gasoline until there is none left to have.

But back to Honda and Japanese automobiles. They are seen as the pioneers of the automotive world, but all the major developments have taken place in the West. Sweden put the first three-point seatbelts in their Saabs, Ford created the first vehicle that anyone could afford. But I guess the automotive world has always been about implementation rather than invention. Look at my previous example of Henry Ford. He got the Model A and Model T out in America in the early 1900s, yet he didn’t invent the “horseless carriage.” A German did. And did Saab invent the seatbelt? They just put it in their car first. So here is our generation of implementation. Ford had an Escort with Hydrogen Cells in 1993, yet Honda is actually giving them to people in 2007. I still say Ford is better.

Brecas

The New Mexico word for “brakes.”  It’s been borrowed into Spanish from English as a calque.  The structure has been adapted by Spanish for a lexical entry that shares semantic properties with the English counterpart.   i.e. English has  had  a huge effect on many Spanish words spoken in New Mexico, particularly Northern New Mexico.

I’m in the process of calling a bunch of auto mechanic and parts shops throughout New Mexico.  I have a list of 22 English automotive words and I have the employees translate them all.  I’m affirming what I already know: Auto Zone employees are either really cool and knowledgeable, or really useless jackasses.  No in-between guys.  Go into an Auto Zone and test my theory.  Dan tried getting some break pads and the guy didn’t know where they kept them.  Dan pointed across the counter to the huge rack of brake pads, then Dan had to squint to see the part numbers and still found the brakes before the employee did.  Maybe if Dan had called them brecas he would have gotten them sooner.

Brand New teaches us lessons

No, Mr. Lacey won’t be heading up Economics and teaching students about decimals and dollars, nor will Mr. Accardi be giving guitar lessons in the basement.

Their latest lesson is clear,

Don’t Drink and Drive.

I just attended their concert this past weekend, and Jesse Lacey started out his song Limousine with a statement explaining, “This is not a happy song. It is a sad song about an accident that happened near our house.” The song is an amazing one, and I suggest you download it. Better yet, go buy their latest CD, The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me.

Here is the news article: here

It always seems like an ok option to drive home after having a few drinks, but the consequences are not worth the risk. Have one of your friends drive you home. Oh, and one more thing, have the friend who’s driving you put in this CD. It’s great to jam out to while drunk.

The Legacy of a Pontiac Bonneville

She came off the assembly line in the motor city in the summer of ‘64. She had gleaming white paint and a white vinyl soft top. She was laden with all the options of the day: power steering, air conditioning, heater, even an am/fm radio. She was 19 feet of American engineering and passion. Her huge frame had presence, yet a hint of grace. She rolled down the streets of Detroit with the power and prestige a Kenya Ivory White Brougham Edition 1964 Pontiac Bonneville deserves.
I saw the Bonneville 42 years later in front of an Albuquerque mechanic’s shop whose owner knew little of the car’s history. “Well, the engine and transmission have been rebuilt and it’s on its third paint job,” said Mechanic Ed. It was true. The car was no longer white. She was now a dark charcoal grey. She had gone from sleek Detroit muscle to secretive mob boss status with the addition of pigment. I loved her. I bought the Bonneville immediately.

The Bonneville and I started our relationship in August 2005. I wrote Mechanic Ed a check for $2,750 and gleefully took the title.

Everyone thought I was insane. I already own a cute little commuter car, why would I need a tank? The truth is that I have always wanted a 1962 Bonneville. I own a book called “Detroit Muscle” that has huge pictures of every car built in Detroit from 1950 to 1980. I saw a picture of a Bonneville in it when I was 10. I was half-heartedly looking for one since then. When I saw the 1964 parked on the street, I knew that was the car I wanted.

The Bonneville has the feel of a pirate ship. She’s huge and dark. The word “drive” is not qualified for this car, I have to navigate her. I have to plot out courses. Parking is a job for Chuck Norris—only the confident and brave can even attempt it. The old girl seems menacing and dwarfs modern cars. The car looks and feels like something out of this world. She’s solid and low to the ground. The doors are heavy, the dash is streamline, the front and rear seats are ancient couches. There are no cup holders, no rear-view mirrors, and no GPS. The car is hardly a car by today’s standards. I feel important and commanding while piloting her.

We got off to a rocky start. The Bonneville and I had different ideas of how a car should be driven. I wanted to drive fast and show off, but she wanted to slowly prowl the pavement. I wanted her to start up immediately and be ready to go, but she wasn’t easily stirred from slumber.

Our first incident happened three days after I bought her. I thought that everyone needed to get a ride in the beast. We were on our way to pick up my friend Kelsey, when the Bonneville promptly decided to stop running. The car died in Kelsey’s parking lot. “Really good buy,” said Kelsey when she saw the beached whale. Thanks Kels, you’re a big help.
I couldn’t figure out why the Bonneville wouldn’t start. I turned the key in the ignition, pulled on the choke, and tapped the gas pedal. Nothing worked. It wouldn’t catch. I was frustrated. My latest investment seemed like a stupid mistake. Why did I buy this damn thing? It’s just going to break down. That’s what cars from 1964 do, they break down.
I regained my cool and had Kelsey drive me to Auto Zone in her defiantly able Volvo. On the way I called a few of my friends to see what they thought. Everyone suggested something different. I remember Mechanic Ed saying something about spark plugs, so I bought some spark plugs. We went back to the Bonneville and I painfully put in the spark plugs. Then I tried starting it. Still nothing. Maybe it was a bad starter. Maybe there was a fuel problem. I went back home.
On the way back, I thought of something. Maybe she’s just out of gas! No, that would be stupid. The gauge is on full. Then again, it’s been on full since I bought the car. I just thought she had a magical gas tank. I had my roommate take me to get a gas can and some fuel. We went back to the deserted Bonneville and pumped it full of its life-blood. I tried starting her up. Nothing. Oh man. I tried again. Still nothing. Come on! Ok, one more try. She started up like one of her long lost sisters at Talladega Race Way- roaring to life and with the will to perform. “This whole time! It was just gas!” I yelled. My friends just rolled their eyes.

My new friends would have been more understanding. Since I bought the car, I got initiated into a special society of oddballs. I now was an owner of a classic car. I was equals to old men who collected cars and the local vatos in lowriders.
I met one such man recently. He was both an old man and a vato. I met him on the side of the road. I was driving my Bonneville and noticed another Bonneville on the side of the road. It was a 1962, just like the one I originally wanted. But it was not restored. It had original paint, which means original rust. It had ratty seats and motor problems. “What’s up, ay?” the gentleman inquired. “Hey man, what’s wrong with your Bonneville?” I replied. He wasn’t sure, but he was working on it. “That’s a nice ride, ese. My name is Johnny,” he said. We talked for about half an hour while we tried to fix his car. “Maybe it’s out of gas,” I joked. We became friends immediately. It was like we belonged to a club of Bonneville owners. We just had an understanding. He got his car running and bid me adieu. “Later brother,” he yelled. I knew I would see him again.

People in other old cars wave at me as if we are old pals. A baby blue 1964 Bonneville in better condition than mine honked at me in December. I waved like every guy in a car does, I lifted a few fingers on my left hand that was gripping the top of the steering wheel. I was with my brother at the time. “Who was that guy?” he asked. “I have no idea,” I said.

In the past few months I have been trying to sell the old car. I thought that she was becoming more trouble than she’s worth. She’s huge and difficult to deal with. Each outing is a mechanical adventure. I have to make sure I drive her when I have free time because she could break down at any moment. I have to plan out stopping in traffic because she takes so long to stop. But after getting one offer I decided not to sell her. The reality of losing her set in.

I love this old car. I couldn’t get rid of her. How many people have a car that is twice as old as they are and still works like a champ? How many people can say they are driving history? I can, and I do not want to give that up. The car has nostalgia. I feel like I have traveled back in time to the 60’s. A time when big American muscle was the trend. A time when cars were judged on size and performance instead of gas mileage and resale value.

The Bonneville is more than a car to me. She is more than a possession. She is part of me and helps define me. I am the guy in that huge old car, and I like that. She’s a unique piece of machinery. When I see her I swell with pride. “Yeah,” I tell old dudes, “She’s mine. That charcoal grey 1964 Pontiac Bonneville with the white top.”