To Live and Drive in L.A.*

*(Lower Alabama)  

Pirate Press    November 2017

Normally, in these pages I celebrate cars for the 1%, those exotic autos that have industrial amounts of horsepower and cost as much as a beachfront condo. However, after a recent fender-bender (see next month’s Pirate Press for the full details) I was relegated to just the opposite, spending four weeks in a car literally anyone can afford--- a 2017 Hyundai Accent. (Please try to control your laughter). To put that in perspective, the Accent’s MSRP of $14,745 costs virtually the same as the optional carbon ceramic brakes on a Ferrari California I test drove in 2015.  

Truthfully, I was hoping to rent something a little more exciting, such as a Mustang or Camaro, but nothing even remotely close to that was available. Welcome to living in Mobile, Alabama! The nearest performance offering was an EcoBoost Mustang convertible, but that was in New Orleans, and I’d accrue another day’s rental each way just picking it up and returning it. I even considered a Nissan Maxima with a 300hp V6, but at $750 per week, it was three times the cost of the Hyundai. Unfortunately, the young girl working the Enterprise rental car counter was no help, as she was as familiar with performance cars as I am with astrophysics, so we arrived at an impasse.  I resigned myself to the Hyundai, and left feeling that she probably still believes that Lamborghini is an entrée you order at Olive Garden. 

Back in 2011, when our Ford Freestyle was undergoing a transmission transplant, I was forced to commute in a Hyundai Accent and the experience was inscrutable. It was literally everything that people don’t want in a car: cheap, slow and ugly. So with that painful memory still burned into my prefrontal cortex, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to more seat time in an Accent.

However, I was pleasantly surprised when the Enterprise attendant led me to my Accent rental. Gone was the bland, generic styling of the 2011 model, and it had been replaced with nice looking compact curves. Granted, it wouldn’t put any Porsche designers out of business, but then again it wasn’t so horrible that I’d want to slit my wrists, either. Surprisingly, the slippery shape was also good for a wind-cheating 0.28 coefficient of drag, making it one of the most aerodynamic vehicles available at any price. Take that, Ferrari! 

I’m a sucker for red cars, and my Accent was a dark crimson known as Boston Red. And while that color choice was admittedly better than Hyundai’s other tangerine-hued shade known as “Vitamin C” , I hoped it wasn’t a forewarning that there was a pipe bomb in the trunk.

As the rental agent passed me the keys, I couldn’t help but notice that both sets were attached to a very sturdy steel cable. No, this wasn’t your average zinc-plated key ring, but rather one that looked capable of seeing duty in the Golden Gate bridge. Also affixed was a small plastic-coated tag that justified the Fort Knox tensile strength. It cautioned “Average Key Replacement Cost $225” and given that it contained two keys, I vowed to protect them with my life.

Walking around the Accent, I noticed that its tiny 175/70-14 tires seemed barely larger than the ones on my daughter’s bicycle. In fact, the last car I owned with such miniscule wheels was a 1996 del Sol. Aside from that, the color-keyed door handles and mirrors lent a harmonious monochromatic scheme that gave it the illusion of being much more expensive than it was. But spoiling this was an excessively elongated black rubber antennae jutting up from the rear roof that looked capable of helping E.T. phone home.

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Inside the Accent, there were acres of textured black plastic meant to impart an upscale experience. Regrettably, while visually appealing, the actual materials revealed a very hard and unyielding surface. Moreover, just thirty minutes of resting my leg against the door while driving was enough to induce pain. Similarly, the thinly-padded cloth seats were more uncomfortable than a private interview with Harvey Weinstein. And lastly, the budget nature extended all the way to the lack of cruise control, a feature I’ve come to expect in even the most basic transportation.

Yet bizarrely, there were other modern touches on the Hyundai that were absent from my 2006 Red Line, such as a USB charging port, tire pressure sensors, and even an outside temperature display. The Accent also boasted an Eco Mode as well as Traction Control, although I quickly disabled both in an effort to make it a little more lively. 

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Power is derived from a Direct-Injection 1.6-liter four cylinder with Variable Valve-Timing (two newer technologies my Saturn lacks) and maximum grunt is 137 hp at a lofty 6300 rpm. Hilariously, Hyundai saw fit to include a 140 mph speedometer as perhaps the only way it could achieve that velocity is if it was dropped from a Chinook helicopter. Its Veloster sibling utilizes the same 97 cubic-inch engine, but employs a turbocharger to pump it to 200 hp, and even it cannot exceed 134 mph.

Where the Accent does excel is its crash-diet weight of just 2,500 lbs which makes me wonder if the tires were possibly filled with helium instead of nitrogen? Despite incorporating all the latest safety technologies (including not one, but SIX air bags), it still manages to undercut my plastic-paneled Saturn by a whopping 300 lbs! Yet perhaps the most appealing factor is the entry-level MSRP that allows even minimum-wage workers the ability to slide behind the wheel. But, as mentioned earlier, rarely will a potential buyer cross-shop a Hyundai and options like carbon ceramic brakes. 

The Accent is equipped with a six-speed automatic that makes the most of the gear spread. Standing-start acceleration is brisk, feeling quicker than the 8.6-seconds measured by Car and Driver to hit 60 mph. However, power precipitously falls off as the tachometer surges to its 6750 rpm redline, accompanied by such audible detonation that mimics pebbles bouncing around in a tin can. Normally, that amount of knock would alarm me, but since it wasn’t my car, I wasn’t concerned with it. Nonetheless, it seems it might benefit from something higher than 87 octane, which I was unwilling to splurge on.  

Railroad tracks and similar highway impediments are soaked up with satisfying poise, as the Accent strives to offer a compliant ride. However, the cushy commuting comes at the expense of handling, which is just one notch above dreadful. The Frisbee-sized tires, understandably designed for low-rolling resistance, and not grip, are the main culprit. The Accent enters high-speed curves with all the composure of a rhino on roller skates, and when pushed harder, provokes the vehicle into an embarrassing ballet of tire-scrubbing understeer. At 0.80 g, the skidpad figure is roughly akin to that of a school bus.

Somewhat better are the brakes, which clamp down with a reassuring bite. They grab quickly, with very little initial pedal travel, and inspire late-braking confidence.  Despite the rear drums, I’m reluctant to admit that I prefer the Hyundai’s brake feel over my Red Line.

But the biggest margin of victory over my hot-rodded Saturn is undeniably in the fuel economy department. Going into this, I knew the Accent’s Verne Troyer-sized engine would have the advantage, but I didn’t expect it to be so pronounced. I’ve been pretty vocal and proud of my Red Line’s ability to consistently crank out 30 mpg while developing 310 hp, but the Hyundai redefined my expectations of what I thought possible. The EPA estimates are 27 City and 38 Highway, and given the way I was constantly flogging it and running the A/C continuously, I optimistically expected to maybe squeeze out 35 mpg. So, imagine my disbelief when I checked it and saw a stunning 43.5 mpg! That’s right, my humble Accent was returning the same mpg as my sister-in-law’s fancy new Prius, all without the benefit of an electric motor or a Kinetic Energy Recovery System (KERS). Even better, the frugal Hyundai ran acceptably on regular unleaded, saving me fifty cents per gallon over the 93 octane required by my Red Line.

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Since I had it over the Memorial Day weekend, we decided to use it for our trip to Orange Beach. This southernmost sliver of sand used to be Alabama’s best kept secret, but sadly that’s no longer the case. Our troubles started with the traffic blockage going into Mobile’s George Wallace tunnel, which it should be noted, is the single largest bottleneck I’ve encountered in the 1,000-mile stretch between San Antonio, Texas and Jacksonville, Florida. Invariably, the log jam of tourists headed east from Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama begins around Spring Break and extends until Labor Day.  During this period, delays of one or two hours are not uncommon, and it took us a staggering three hours to make the 90-mile drive. It should also be noted that an hour of this leg was just to drive the final 15 miles from Foley to Orange Beach.

This area has teasingly been referred to as the South’s “Redneck Riviera” and unfortunately the moniker is quite apropos. Jacked-up 4x4 trucks with NRA stickers and Rebel Flags waving proudly roared up and down the highway, and we spotted one who had no problem voicing his disdain for the tourists who have invaded the area: “My Girl. My Water. My Sand. GO HOME!” it demanded on the back of his truck cab.

Indeed, it’s not just the influx of tourists, but also the swell of residents that have started to crowd the tiny 14.7-mile isthmus. In 1987 when I first visited the area, Orange Beach had a population of 2,000, but that figure has ballooned now to 6,000. A lot of locals blame one individual, Shaul Zislin, for the current overcrowding and commercialization. Zislin came to the area 25 years ago to collect on a debit and ended up buying the 2.5 acre parcel at the intersection of Highway 59 and East Beach Boulevard for $700,000. He then put “The Hangout” on it, a 17,000 square-foot restaurant with fours bar, a gift shop, and an outdoor stage for live music. Following that, he added seven Surf Style stores which litter the roads between Gulf Shores and Orange Beach.

In an effort to promote his venues, Zislin established an annual three-day concert series known as Hangout Fest. It was the weekend before we arrived and reportedly drew 40,000 attendees. The chaos has best been described as akin to having Panama City’s infamous Spring Break transplanted to Orange Beach. Aside from increased traffic congestion and blaring music, residents detest it because it attracts all sorts of unsavory activity. Underscoring this, arrests almost tripled from 2016 to 2017: Last year, 61 offenders were cited, whereas 171 were reported this year. Zislin was probably chagrined to discover that one of the Surf Style shops was looted to the tune of $3000 worth of Oakley sunglasses. And while that was an isolated incident, reports of pickpocketing seemed to be widespread. Although there are no total numbers for the three-day event, the manager of the Orange Beach AT&T store said that during the first 24 hours, 35 concert goers came in to file insurance claims or to get replacement phones.

The flood of vacationers has also enabled an unspoken price-fixing amongst the beachfront hotels. As I observed earlier, it’s the Redneck Riviera not the French Riviera, though you’d be hard pressed to differentiate that given the room rates. I’m certainly not price-sensitive when it comes to this, but I do object to paying Hilton prices for Holiday Inn accommodations. I remarked to my wife that we need another oil spill to shake up the greedy hotel owners. Back in 2010, after the Deepwater Horizon disaster, they couldn’t give away rooms. But as the tourists returned, so did the price gouging.           

And as we left Orange Beach after an undesirable weekend of rain and gridlock, we received a lovely parting gift in the form of a nasty-looking nail in the Hyundai’s rear tire. Thankfully, the pressure monitoring sensor alerted me to this, otherwise we could have been stranded with a tire flatter than Trump's sense of humor. But while the Accent lacked our Santa Fe’s sophisticated system that shows the individual pressure in each tire, it was enough to warn me to air it back up. And that’s precisely what I did each day, for approximately two weeks, before I returned it. With Enterprise charging me $35 per diem for the rental, I wasn’t about to spend another $20 to patch the tire.

After thirty days with the little bugger, it was finally time to turn over the keys. And quite frankly, after getting used to the convenience of an automatic transmission again, I was afraid that going back to my 11 year-old Saturn might be a letdown.

However, I’ve never been so glad to be so wrong. The three-inch wider tires, racetrack-tuned suspension, and almost 200 more horsepower made my Ion immensely more enjoyable. It was like rekindling a love affair. Whereas the Hyundai required careful planning and an extended stretch for passing slower motorists, such was not necessary with the Saturn’s instant-on power. And like the supercharged engine, there’s no way the Hyundai could compete with the Red Line’s fantastic Recaro seats. Being imprisoned in the Accent for a month certainly made me appreciate what I had taken for granted in the Ion. It’s not often you hear of someone willingly choosing a 2006 model over a 2017, but this is definitely the exception. 

So, in summation the Accent is a fine commuter, but unfortunately that’s all it ever will be. There’s no joie de vivre, nothing to magically transform the daily trudge into a pulse-pounding experience. Consequently, around the same time I read an article about small ways of improving the quality of life. The writer vowed that implementing tiny changes, no matter how seemingly insignificant, could lead to a happier, more fulfilled existence. Unbelievably, one recommendation was using premium toilet paper as they claimed the satisfaction and indulgence outweighed the slightly higher cost. To that list, I would like to add “Horsepower”. At the end of a long day, whether it’s been good or bad, horsepower always makes it better. It’s like a happy pill under my right foot. Most refer to it as an accelerator pedal, but for me it’s an antidepressant pedal. Over the past thirty years, whenever getting a new car, I’ve always strived to purchase a more powerful car than the one before it. Now while that hasn’t always been possible, I do presently have the fastest, most capable car I’ve ever owned.  And to me, that along with Cottonelle Gentle Care toilet paper, is worth every penny! #toiletpapermatters