I recently spent a weekend with a very cherry 1970 BMW 2002 that some maniac/god decided to drop a racing engine into. After enjoying its many pleasures I just had to pen an homage to David E. Davis Jr.’s seminal review of the 2002 when it first arrived on our shores in 1968. Below is my update, and you can find the original here.

As I sit here, fresh from the elegant embrace of a 1970 BMW 2002, it occurs to me that something between thirty eight and thirty nine million Americans are going to make a terrible mistake this year. Like dutiful little robots they will march out of their identical McMansions and buy the wrong used car. Fools, fools! Terrible, terrible, I say. Why are you blowing your money on any number of tweaked and bodily-fluid enhanced yesteryear versions of the Civic / Focus / 3-series / 3-series Status Symbol / Eclipse / Sex Substitute / Camry / Accord / Crown Victoria / Overkill / Evo / A4 / CR-V / Malibu / GTO / GTA / GTB / GTS / GTX / Reality Blaster / Golf / Fusion / C-class / Mazda3 / XK-E / Dino / Dud car when you should be buying a classic BMW 2002 I ask.

Down at the discos, Jenni Applebottom and Chaz Power and all their twit friends buy blarting little Japanese coupes with raked windshields and large chrome wheels, unaware that somewhere, someday, some guy in a BMW 2002 is going to blow them off so bad they’ll henceforth leave every stoplight in second gear and never drive on a winding road again as long as they live.

In the suburbs, Biff Everykid and Kevin Acne and Marvin Sweatsock will press their fathers to buy IROC Camaros with hood vents mounted up near the horizon somewhere and enough power to light up the city of Seattle, totally indifferent to the fact they they could fit more friends into the BMW in greater comfort and stop better and go around corners better and get about 29 times better gas mileage.

Mr. and Mrs. America will paste a “Support the Troops” sticker on the back bumper of their used Sebring and run Old Glory up the radio antenna and never know that for about 2500 bucks less they could have gotten a car with more personality, more head room, more style, good visibility, decent brakes, independent rear suspension, an interior that tells you stories of past journeys and adventures every time you sit in it – not to mention a lot of other good stuff they didn’t even know they could get on an automobile, like responsive steering and seats that don’t make you tired when you sit in them.

So far as I’m concerned, to hell with all of ‘em. If they’re content to remain in the automotive dark, let them. I know about the BMW 2002’ Something between thirty eight and thirty nine million squares will miss out on this neat little 2-door sedan with all the cojones and moxy and cred of cars half its age and four times its price, but a few adventurous types will buy them this year, so the mainstream loses like always.

To my way of thinking, the 2002 was/is one of modern civilization’s all-time best ways to get somewhere sitting down. It grabs you. You sit in snug sport seats with great, tall windows all around you. You are comfortable and you can see in every direction. You start it. Willing and lumpy is how it feels. A rough idle, but no zappy noises to indicate the task you propose might be anything more than child’s play for all those twitchy Bavarian superhorses.

Depress the clutch. Easy. Like there was resistance there. Clunk. First gear. Remove weight of left foot from clutch as it travels it’s 3 feet back to rest. Place weight of right foot on accelerator then add a pound or two, on accelerator. The minute it starts moving, you know that Vin and Ludacris and Paul Walker and all those other big street racing studs retired only because they feared that someday you’d have one of these, and when that day came, you’d be indomitable. They were right. You are indomitable.

Nobody believes it, until I suck their headlights out. But nobody doubts it, once that nearly jet-loud little car has disappeared down the road and around the next bend, still accelerating without a sign of the brake lights. I learn not to tangle with the meth dealers in their big hot camaros with the 500 horsepower engines unless I can get them into a tight place demanding agility, brakes, and the raw courage that is built into the BMW’s ancient seat as a no-cost extra.

What you like to look for are teenage driven Civics and Cobalts and such. Them you can slaughter, no matter how hard they try. And they always try. They really believe all that hype about their VTEC and fuel injection, and the first couple of beatings at the hands of the 2002 make them think they’re tripping or something. But then they learn the awful truth, and they begin to hang back at traffic signals, pretending that they weren’t really racing at all. Ha! Try again, Honda. Slink home with your tail between your legs, Forte Koup. Hide in the garage when you see an ancient BMW coming. If you have to race with something, pick a kid on a Big Wheel.

But I don’t want you to get the notion that this is nothing more than a pocket street racer. The BMW 2002 may have been the first car in history to successfully bridge the gap between the diametrically-opposed automotive requirements of the wildly romantic car nut, on one hand, and the hyperpragmatic people at Consumer Reports, on the other. Enthusiasts’ cars invariably come off second-best in a CU evaluation, because such high-spirited steeds often tend to be all desire and no protein – more Megan Fox than Jennifer Aniston.

It’s interesting to see who owns a 2002. The twits don’t buy them, because it’s too non-sensible, too uncomfortable, and not easy enough to live with. The kids don’t buy them because it doesn’t look like something that will fit a bodykit and it doesn’t have an iPod player. BMW buyers – I suspect – have to be pretty maladjusted enthusiasts who want a unique car, a sense of humor to enjoy its foibles and the taste to appreciate its mechanical excellence.

The Germans had a word for it. Back in the day the German paper Auto Bild called the 2002 Flustern Bombe which means “Whispering Bomb,” and you should bear in mind that the German press spoke of bombs, whispering and otherwise, with unique authority.

Feel free to test-drive one, but please don’t tell any of those thirty nine million squares who are planning to buy something else. They deserve whatever they get. Now turn your hymnals to Number 2002 and we’ll sing two more choruses of Whispering Bomb…

This piece was orginally published at Euroberge

Remember when Spotify was in private beta? Only the cool kids could get in and non-cool kids openly begged their friends for a referral code into the music site. Betas serve the dual purpose of building buzz and working out bugs in a controlled environment. So……rhetorical question: Why don’t cars go into beta?

An automotive beta could look like trying the car out for a week or buying it outright. It could involve weekly debriefs with an engineering liaison or monthly surveys. It could be as simple, and as risky, as trying out a new part and not telling the public. It could be any or none of these options. Betas are not set in stone, but the point is that they could be hugely useful to the companies and welcomed by the public.

If I’ve faithfully bought every Corvette since they hit the road, I sure want to get my hands on a new one before the unwashed masses. Hell, I’d probably pay a premium for the privileged of filling out weekly surveys for Chevy’s Quality Assurance Department just to feel like “part of the process.” I’m sure I’d drive it around even if it was covered in camo and stuffed with computers and logging equipment. If Barrett-Jackson has taught us anything, it’s that collectors will pay a premium to be first.

This goes beyond lust-worthy sports cars like the Corvette also. By using special pricing or other incentives, manufacturers could enroll beta customers for such pedestrian offerings as a Versa or CX-7. Offering a lower price, better rates, or an extended warranty would certainly be enough to enroll willing testers. Who doesn’t like good deal?

In exchange for giving select customers bragging rights or a sweet deal, the OEM’s would get real world non-engineer road use and that cool buzz of being experimental. How many recalls have we seen on basically new cars, and how many of those could have been avoided by letting the public get our greasy fingers on the cars in a controlled environment like a beta? Maybe a lot, maybe a few, but the downside of trying is vanishingly small.

So small in fact that automotive betas aren’t unheard of per se, just uncommon. The General Motors EV-1, the electric 1-Series, the Honda FCX Clarity, and to lesser extents the Ferrari FXX and the Rolls Royce electric Phantom. Some of these are perfect examples while some are merely a good start. What I’m talking about though is a widespread adoption of the beta system to more than just cutting-edge tech like EVs. Manufacturers want to get younger customers into their cars? Giving them a discount for being a tester is a great place to start. The age bracket between 18 and 35 that manufacturers so desperately crave are used to the latest and greatest tech being in beta first. They have shown their proclivity for trading polish and completeness for exclusivity and having the latest technology.

These wouldn’t be unfinished or dangerous cars either, the DOT wouldn’t allow that. At least they would be no more dangerous that any other new vehicle on our roads. Beta cars could be lease-only, so then auto companies could get the cars back and tear them down to see what failed. Leasing would also provide a great way to track the customers and make sure where the beta vehicles are being driven, how often, how much, and who is working on the car.

The most innovative companies are using white labels, A/B testing, beta releases, and innovation labs to stay on the cutting edge. For some reason, these methods have not percolated into the auto industry. Too bad for them, and us. Maybe I’ll give Telsa a call; I’m sure Elon would recognize many of these approaches and be happy to allocate a corner office for me to implement them.

2013 is still fresh and wet behind the ears, and all the definitive lists of the “best” of 2012 are still trickling in. Well I have no interest in telling you what was the greatest of last year. What I want to relay is what you should avoid like your mom’s underwear drawer – the worst car I drove in 2012

Let’s not pander about any longer – it was the Infiniti M56. Boy howdy did I not like this car, but it is not so much that I hated my time in it. No, it just left me with a confused feeling while I drove it. The car is very schizophrenic – never quite deciding what its personality is or how it should drive. “I’m a big cushy sedan! Oooo no, I’m a muscle car! Maybe a sports sedan!” No. None of these, and all at the same time.

This is a vehicle attempting to be many things to many people, and as is often the case with such goals achieving none of them. This car would be a great grand tourer if it decided to be. Same goes for being an executive-shuttling sedan. If the design brief had not consisted of checking every available box the M56 would have been a formidable vehicle.

Instead what I drove was a massive soft driving boat with numb beyond Cadillac of the 70′s steering and the ability to shred it’s tires at any moment. And I can’t forget the Eco setting that attempts to turn this whole circus into a Prius. Yes, this car has a personality disorder (or two).

I was almost distracted enough by the cars enormous helping of horsepower and torque coming out of that honking 5.6 liter V8, 420 and 417 respectively, but the steering and suspension made it all but unenjoyable on anything other than a straight line.  This is another example where horsepower does not solve any problems, and actually makes them worse. Given my time with the M56, I had the feeling that the smaller M37 was probably quite good. A smaller engine and a less aggressive personality was all this car needed to be a competent commuter.

It didn’t help that I got a speeding ticket while testing this car, but that only reinforced my loathing. I had already decided that this was a bad car. As it turns out, the Infiniti M56 was the worst car I drove last year. What was the worst car you drove last year? Let us now in the comments below and peruse the gallery of the M56.

- Adam Kaslikowski

Gentle readers, I have traveled across this great country and seen its sights. I have driven to and fro through the rust belt, across the South, and over the Rocky Mountains. From deserts to rich plains, ocean to ocean I have experienced what driving through this land has to offer. With this wealth of experience, I feel it is only right that I share with you which state, as a whole, is the worst to drive through. I do this so that you can aggressively avoid it as I do now.

What makes a state a bad drive? I would not say the curviness or straightness of the road, for both offer their own delights. I would also not say that being a arid desert disqualifies a state, as ripping through Death Valley, the Mojave, or the Bonneville Salt Flats are some of the most memorable driving experiences I have. So what is it that is needed to stay in a driver’s good graces? In a word – Interest.

The land needs something of interest to keep the mind occupied. It could be an ugly road full of tight turns and switchbacks. that could be interesting. It could be a perfectly flat and straight road through country so beautiful you mind flies over it to soak in the grandeur. My playlist collection can do only so much, I need something, anything to keep  my interest.

Interest is what Wyoming lacks, in every sense of the word. Driving through this western state is akin to traveling through a grey and white dystopia from an apocalyptic future. There is just NOTHING of any kind of interest. Beautiful nature that makes you realize how small in the universe your life is? Nope. Just flat grey dirt pocked by a few dead scrub brushes. Winding technical roads that allow you to explore your car’s limits. Nadda. Long, flat, and straight – yet always too busy to try for a top speed run (however inadvisable and illegal that is on ANY public road). Well how about a thriving culture that begs you to stop and experience a different way of life? Ha. No one lives in Wyoming, or at least not 90% of Wyoming. Does the state at least have any odd-ball American artifacts like the world’s largest rubber-band collection? Not that I know of or have ever seen roadside.

The major exception to all of this is the Grand Teton National Park.  If you’ve never been, the park is a place of unrivaled beauty and spectacle. However, that North-Western corner of Wyoming is not generally driven through – it is a destination in of itself. To drive THROUGH Wyoming, you are left with two major interstates. Cutting across the state is I-80, and running up and down the state is I-25. Along either of these routes, there is a just a whole lot of nothing.

I’ve driven both interstate through Wyoming many times, and I can certainly tell you that there is nothing to look at, think about, or visit. Kentucky has rolling grass hills while Montana truly is big sky country. California has the PCH and vineyards, and Texas has clear expanses of desert beauty that allow your mind to wander to new planes. This country of ours offers limitless natural and man-made beauty to travel along, but Wyoming contains none of it.  It is by far the worst state to drive through.

- Adam Kaslikowski

Ah, the major motoring question of our day. You’ll hear it referenced in passing on the forums when someone is defending their stance on a go-faster modification or some hyper-exotic super car. Indeed, you can not be a true petrolhead without an answer this question. It’s like our version of the Rorschach test. So what type of person are you – a 2/10ths or a 10/10ths?

First, some explanation to the uninitiated. The long form of the question is this: Would you prefer to drive a Corvette/Ferrari/Veyron/rocketsled on public roads – thus only really touching 2/10ths of its full potential – or would you rather drive a Civic/Cobalt/FR-S/unicycle at full-tilt using 10/10ths of its abilities, which is doable on public roads without really breaking any laws. This question is also known as the Fast Car Slow/Slow Car Fast Theorem.

It is a rather vexing problem, because the more you think about it, the more both answers seem correct. Who wouldn’t enjoy peacocking in a Zonda down the Las Vegas strip or your local main street? Just sitting in an exotic sportscar, hearing the engine and being in control of all that power all while never actually going above 40mph, never taking a tight turn, and never even warming up the tires. Sure it’s purely for being seen in and the aesthetic qualities of the vehicle, but is that so wrong? We know that would be fun, and a hell of an ego boost. You’d probably get totally laid and stuff. Right guys? Guys…?

Then again, carving up a mountain road in a little underpowered roadster or economy car, hitting apex after apex is the stuff memories are made of. Pushing a car to its limit teaches you about the car (that’s why we journalists do it) and teaches you about yourself and your driving abilities. Have I four-wheel drifted an A5 up a mountain road? Yes. Did I do it on accident after over-cooking the entrance speed and locking up the brakes? Also yes. Taking a slow car and driving it well enough to make it go fast makes you a better driver.

As an aside, I love that we live in a time when this is a valid question. Not so many decades ago, even the most high-tech of sports cars could not be driven far beyond what is still legal on public roads. Today, though, performance is so otherworldly that we have cars that can barely behave on the street and only get comfortable and settled above 100mph. Ridiculous.

Of course there is no wrong answer to this question. I deeply enjoy cruising a main street in a flamboyant Italian sports car and soaking up all the attention. I also deeply enjoy being alone in an underpowered car and wringing its engine out on a canyon road. These are very different activities that satisfy different desires in my id/ego/super ego. Your answer will invariably be a deeply personal one. Good. Hold on to it. Don’t let anyone talk you out of it. So what’s it going to be – are you a 2/10ths or a 10/t0ths kind of person? Choose Wisely.

In an upcoming post I’ll reveal my personal answer, and a way I’ve found to satisfy both ends of the spectrum.

- Adam Kaslikowski

Those of you who follow DrivingScene regularly will know that we just relocated to LA to explore the deep and varied 31 flavors of car culture here. Those of you who are new here, welcome! Take your coat off, stay awhile. How are you? Oh yeah? Good. That’s really…what? Oh, that’s too bad. I’m sure it will turn around though. She did?!?! Hahaha, that’s hilarious. Alright well…I really gotta get back to this now.

Anyway, California is well known for its storied driving roads – from Hollywood vistas to the Pacific Coast Highway. Whether you’re looking for high-speed canyon carving or a relaxing cruise through ritzy neighborhoods, Cali has got you covered. Desert to redwoods, ocean to cities it’s all here. We have taken it upon ourselves to explore and document as many of these routes as possible in the short life we auto journalists have. We’re going to use every test drive as an opportunity to try out a new canyon route or scenic drive and report back to you whether it was good, bad, or just plain ugly.

We’re also introducing a new feature to our vehicle reviews called “soundtrack.” This will include whichever song/album/playlist perfectly fits with whatever vehicle we’re hooning that week. Just imagine the sheer rightness of listening to AC/DC’s Hell’s Bells while climbing into a Hummer H2 and you get the idea. It just fits. We’ll be including this in our all our car reviews going forward, and encourage you to respond in our comments section with more songs that you think fit a particular automobile. That’s all for now, go forth and happy driving.

80% there, but where's the brass and piping?

I love steampunk. If I had the time/patience/money/skill I would make my own steampunk laptop. But alas, I have none of those things. And so, I am left staring at the efforts of others and pining. Toys, goggles, keyboards, guns, the variety is astounding. What I haven’t been able to find, however, is a steampunk car. There are a few Vespas out there, but no one has tackled a car yet? Por que? I get that it would be a huge undertaking, but how is that any different from scrounging the dump or metal recyclers for spare bits of brass? I want my steampunk car, and I want it now. If you’ve got examples, leave a link in the comments section!

-Adam Kaslikowski