Ferraris Invade The Big Easy

In my younger days, I shamelessly visited New Orleans for the company of scantily-clad women and inebriating concoctions. After all, nothing beats watching an eighteen year-old Ronda Rousey look-a-like wrestle middle-aged men for money at 3 a.m. on Bourbon Street. More recently, trips to New Orleans have been considerably tamer, and included taking my wife and daughter to the Audubon Aquarium or to see 1 Direction at the Superdome.

 

However, this time I wasn’t in the Crescent City for any of the above mentioned items. Unbelievably, post-Katrina Louisiana actually beat out every other U.S. city for the honor of hosting Ferrari’s Corse Clienti XX Programmes. That’s right, Cajun Country implausibly joins the list of other such exotic locations as Shanghai and Budapest that the teams have visited. To put that in perspective, it’s like organizing a meeting of esteemed world leaders and then inviting Larry the Cable Guy.

 

Despite that, the main attraction in Louisiana's economic rebirth is NOLA Motorsports Park, a 750-acre, $60 million race track built in Avondale. Amazingly, the project was entirely self-funded by Laney Chouest and his brother Gary. Laney is a retired doctor and Gary had recently been a minority shareholder in the New Orleans Pelicans basketball team. Together, they own a lucrative offshore supply company and originally imagined the track as a destination for the city’s affluent automotive enthusiasts. Conversely, a unique challenge early on in the development arose when they realized the track would be constructed on gooey marshland. The site, a former cypress swamp, had to be considerably strengthened if they didn’t want it to crumble like than California in San Andreas. The unlikely answer came in the form of Fly ash, a residue from coal burning factories. It was discovered that when mixed with the surrounding clay, it formed a cement-like foundation that was ideal for supporting a race track. I suppose we should all be grateful that Tom Benson had no involvement or else it might have been called “Mercedes-Benz Motorsports Park”. 

 

Alan Wilson, whose other projects include Barber Motorsports Park (which I visited last year) was commissioned to design the track. Presently, the North section of the track is open and is comprised of 2.75 miles and 16 turns. On the drawing board is a separate South section of track which will be 2.69 Miles with 11 turns. When linked together they will form a five-mile course, making it the longest race track in North America. Throughout the weekend, we saw bulldozers and dump trucks steadily working on the new addition.

 

To begin seeing a return on his investment, Chouest initially pushed a membership model that was $9,000 annually or lifetime for $50,000. Burt Benrud, the Vice President of Café du Monde, was reportedly one of the first in line to buy a lifetime membership. So far, he and roughly forty other well-heeled families have signed up. However, the “Pay As You Play” program has proven to be a lot more attractive to the majority of customers. For $20, drivers can enjoy a 10-minute session on the karting track or move up to open track days. During those, it’s $225 for a motorcycle or $325 for a car, and that includes six 20-minute sessions.   

 

AVONDALE

Avondale is geographically only twelve miles south of New Orleans, but it’s a world away in terms of the environment. Sandwiched between the Mississippi River above and Lake Cataouatche below, Avondale is largely deserted since Northrup Grumman closed their shipbuilding division there in 2013 eliminating 5,000 local jobs. Unlike its privileged neighbor to the north, there is no Macy’s, James Beard Award-winning cuisine, or fancy French architecture. Nearly 20% of the 4,900 people living in Avondale are below poverty level and 15% of the populace is designated as a female householder with no husband present. It’s a sobering juxtaposition to the phalanx of Ferrari owners flying in on private jets with their $3 million dollar cars in tow.

 

As expected, there are only two hotels in Avondale: a Candlewood Suites and a Suburban Extended Stay. It was a toss-up, like deciding between West Nile Virus or Lyme Disease, both of which I thought I might potentially contract from staying there. Eventually, my daughter decided for me by picking the Suburban Extended Stay. Using her ten year-old logic, she admitted it wasn’t as nice as the Candlewood Suites, but it did possess an outdoor pool. That notwithstanding, my fondest hope was that we wouldn’t find a dead raccoon floating in it. Still, I didn’t feel too sorry for either hotel as both had apparently gotten wind of the Ferrari event and had doubled their rates for that weekend from $75 per night to $150.

 

The hotel stay was not only worse than I could have possibly imagined, it was also educational. It introduced a new item to my vocabulary called a “Scrusher” and no, that’s not a slang term for the unsavory occupants. Mounted liberally at each entrance, these looked like big shoe polishing devices but in essence were there to remove excessive dirt and mud from guests’ boots. They were accompanied by a water hose that encouraged patrons to “rinse off” before entering. Clearly, if your clientele is that filthy, there’s a bigger issue present. This “experience” extended well into the wee hours of the morning when I was awakened by the most foul chemical smell I can ever recall. It seemed to be emanating from the noisy room next door and I was convinced I’d become an unwilling participant in a real-life episode of “Breaking Bad”. Whether they were actually cooking meth or not was never proven, and honestly I was too tired to do anything about it and fell back asleep. The next morning, Amanda and I agreed that this was the worst hotel we had ever stayed in, eclipsing even that awful one in Houston that was built beside a railroad track.  

 

The urban scenery also left a lot to be desired. Our hotel was bookended between the C&D Landfill and a Baskin-Robbins, not necessarily an appetizing combination. Behind us, stood the patriotically named Henry Ford Middle School. A nod to Avondale’s blue-collar roots, its tan and orange veneer looked unchanged since the 1980s and was an immediate time-warp back to my grade school days. The only positive to come out of staying in Avondale was the close proximity to the track. Otherwise, with traffic, we found it’s about a twenty minute drive to reach New Orleans. That notwithstanding, I vowed never to remain overnight in Avondale again.     

 

LAFERRARI

Introduced at the 2013 Geneva Auto Show, the Ferrari LaFerrari is not only the most ridiculously named Ferrari ever, but also their first hybrid supercar. In development, it went by the internal designation F150, but Ford reportedly balked at Ferrari using that name since they claimed it interfered with their eponymous truck line. I highly doubt anyone would ever confuse the two, but that’s Ford logic for you. Regardless, the LaFerrari utilizes a 789 hp V-12 mated with a 161 hp electric motor for a combined output of 950 hp. Tested by Car and Driver magazine, it was the quickest production car they have ever measured, bolting to 60 mph in just 2.5 seconds and blitzing the quarter-mile in 9.8 seconds at 150 mph. It costs a cool $1.5 million and only 499 are being made.

 

So what do you buy when that’s not fast enough or exclusive enough for you? I’m glad you asked, because that’s what I went to New Orleans to find out.

 

XX PROGRAMME

Ferrari’s XX Programme was started in 2006, when the Italian automaker shrewdly realized that its richest customers would pay exorbitant amounts to drive what are basically development test beds. The XX nomenclature reflected a unique model outside the regular line of production. The first vehicle designed under these auspices was the FXX, the racing version of the Ferrari Enzo. Whereas the “regular” Enzo had 660 hp, the FXX was tuned to produce 800 hp. It was followed two years later by the FXX Evoluzione, an improved version with even more horsepower--- 860 to be exact. In 2009, Ferrari announced the 599XX. Continuing the established formula, it was lighter and faster that its street-legal counterpart, the 599 GTB. In 2012, it was succeeded by the 599XX Evoluzione. The newest XX model to join the stable is the Ferrari FXXK. Only 39 exist worldwide and with a $3 million price tag they’re all sold out. After clamping their eyes on one, some have opined that the name is a perfect censored expression of the shock and awe experienced when seeing it. Whether that’s true or not, is open to debate. Instead, the “K” more realistically denotes the inclusion of KERS, the Kinetic Energy Recovery System employed by the hybrid powertrain. The LaFerrari’s 6.3-liter V-12, already the most powerful production twelve-cylinder in the world, has been modified to squeeze an additional 71 horsepower from it. Helping to achieve such a stratospheric output are new camshafts, higher-flowing intake, and a switch to mechanical rather than hydraulic tappets. The electric motor has been overclocked too, spitting out 190 hybrid horses. This creates a grand total of 1050 horsepower and is roughly the same power output as seven Toyota Priuses. Ferrari also generously throws in a 3,000-mile warranty (or what they estimate amounts to two seasons of racing).           

 

CORSE CLIENTI

Greece is bankrupt, China is in political upheaval and there is a war in Syria, but there’s no shortage of Ferrari’s Corse Clienti (loosely interpreted as “Racing Clients”). They’re an international group of ultra-wealthy owners who drive these XX models throughout the year at eight different  tracks all over the world. Amazingly, the $3 million dollar purchase price only includes the car and there is no money or trophy for the races. The race weekends are all a la carte and cost $50,000 apiece. Incredibly, Ferrari also stores and maintains the cars in Italy during the off-season so the only time the owners get to play with their pricey possessions is when they’re rolled out for the races. One British journalist succinctly observed, “A day of petting your pony, sir? That’ll be $50,000.” Admittedly, on paper it sounds ludicrous: Charge a customer $3 million for a car that can only be driven on a race track. Let them have access to it for just eight races over the course of the year. Finally, bill them $50,000 for the privilege of using their car at each race. Despite how fundamentally (and financially) flawed it sounds, there’s a waiting list of insanely rich and powerful men willing to do just that. The House of Ferrari may have just surpassed P.T. Barnum when discussing customer gullibility.    

 

The 599XX Evoluzione is particularly special as a one-off version of it was produced in 2014 to benefit the Emilia earthquake victims. The 6.1 magnitude quake was the worst to strike the Northern Italy region in centuries and Ferrari quickly organized the charity auction of the car. Surprisingly, the winning bid of $1.6 million came not from Europe or Japan, but from San Francisco Google executive Ben Sloss. Sloss, who goes by “Treynor” on the Ferrari forums, was thereafter invited to buy a LaFerrari and accepted. Alongside the LaFerrari, he also purchased a $1.3 million McLaren P1. The P1 is a hybrid like the LaFerrari, making 903hp from a twin-turbo V-8 and an electric motor. But unlike some collectors, Sloss isn’t afraid to drive his cars and he’s proved it by letting both Motor Trend and Cycle World test his McLaren P1. Recently, he added his latest Italian acquisition, a FXXK. And like many racers, Sloss has a preference for a particular color and it’s yellow. His LaFerrari is Giallo Tristrato (Triple-Layer Yellow) and his 599XX and FXXK are both Modena Yellow, the color of Ferrari’s birthplace. With those five cars, he now has a car payment bigger than the Gross National Product of Nicaragua.      

 

The other high-profile Ferrari owner in New Orleans is Peter Mann. His forum nickname is “ChalStrad” a shortened version of Challenge Stradale which was a Ferrari model and is generally translated as “Lightweight Racing”. Mann is an American expatriate living in Switzerland and is rightfully proud of being the Ferrari Club of France President. Like Sloss, he’s one of the most friendly and enthusiastic owners you’ll ever come across. Appropriately enough, the color for his LaFerrari and FXXK is Tour de France Blue. I inquire if he has any regrets about his $3 million purchase. With a wry smile, he responds that he fears when he dies his wife will sell it for what he told her he paid for it, not what it actually cost. Also, don’t ask him what he thinks of convicted-cheater Lance Armstrong or he might swat you over the head with a crusty loaf of french bread.    

 

NOLA MOTORSPORTS PARK

Back in July, I first stumbled upon details of the NOLA raced buried deep in a 53-page FXXK thread on the Ferrari forums. It was an off-handed remark about a “Corse Clienti event in New Orleans after Spa and before the Finali Mondiali”. Unable to believe that the Ferrari roadshow would be so close, I furiously looked up the Corse Clienti calendar and confirmed it. However, it wasn’t even listed on the NOLA Raceway website, so I reached out to Scott Foremaster at Track Operations. He confirmed that the event would be held there, but stated that Ferrari had released no information regarding it and asked how I knew about it. Although it wasn’t intentional, this lack of information persisted until fully a week before the actual race. In fact, it was a mere three days until the Friday kickoff before a finalized schedule was available.

 

Although Scott had assured me that General Admission was free and open to the public, I opted for Ferrari’s $350 Hospitality Pass. It provided access to the on-track private Ferrari Suite, entry and a guided tour of the Challenge Paddock, catered lunch with an open bar, Ferrari memorabilia items and, as it turned out, a very special test drive. Additionally, there was a VIP Cocktail Party Saturday night at Oak Alley Plantation between Baton Rouge and New Orleans. Regrettably, I had to decline it as I’d already made dinner reservations at Commander’s Palace.   

 

The weather forecast for the first weekend in October was absolutely perfect, with a high of 80 and sunny, so we packed shorts and t-shirts. Predictably, what we got was a high of 60 and cloudy. Had it not been for the pre-admission email which stipulated “All guests wishing to participate in the Pit Tours, and hot-laps must wear closed toed shoes and pants” I wouldn’t have had any jeans to wear. Even at that, everyone was cold: My daughter had a thin Old Navy hoodie and the female Ferrari models shivered in their leather mini-skirts. Possibly the only ones not freezing were the actual drivers like Sloss and Mann. They were clad from head-to-toe like astronauts in their thick, flame-retardant jumpsuits. Before getting into their respective FXXKs, I watched them pull the balaclavas over the head so that only their face was exposed and then drop the helmet on over that. Once that was done, an assistant would attach the HANS device to help protect their head and neck, and then they would clumsily clamber into the cockpit. The final step required after the driver was situated was to have another assistant connect the microphone line to their helmets so they could communicate back and forth. I can’t imagine they had much more room or freedom of movement than if they were in an Apollo II lunar module. During sweltering summer events like Shanghai, it must have been a carbon-fiber pressure cooker in there. I also couldn’t help but be amused that of these $3 million machines, many where using cheap strips of generic mattress foam to pad the deep racing seats. Apparently, the FXXK is long on speed but terribly short on comfort.

 

Unfortunately, the turn out for the event was rather poor, with just four FXXKs in attendance and two 599XXs. Similarly in short supply were any Ferraris bathed in Rosso Corsa, the company’s famed crimson color. Usually far and away the most popular hue, it had been upstaged by blue and yellow paint selections. And despite being free to the general populace, the majority seemed largely mystified by the Italian exotics and avoided it like a Ben Carson rally. But, spicing things up Robert “Bud” Moeller brought Reubens Barrichello’s Ferrari Formula One car which had won at both Silverstone, England and Suzuka, Japan in 2003. On Saturday, former F1 driver Marc Gene took the car out to see if he could set a new lap record. He succeeded by recording a 1:15.9 and shattering Tony Kanaan’s existing record by 2.9 seconds. This means the 12 year-old Ferrari was faster than the new Indy cars that had raced there in April.

 

Alas, after visiting tracks like Laguna Seca, Road Atlanta, and Barber Motorsports Park, NOLA Raceway was a bit of a disappointment. Not only are the grounds bleak with no trees or vegetation, but the flat layout is also uninspiring. Peter Mann criticized the circuit as having a “dangerously bumpy” front straight and stated the track felt “devoid of emotions”. That notwithstanding, he said he was hitting 175 mph before having to brake early for the first turn. However, If something happened at that speed, I’m not sure a HANS device would make much difference. 

 

Meanwhile, my wife and daughter were amusing themselves with the various activities and owners present. Victoria made countless laps of a mini race course in a tiny Ferrari you have to peddle, and Amanda struck up an unlikely conversation with one of the wealthy wives. The woman was holding a small Viennese breed of dog and Amanda asked how she liked it. Without any pretense, the woman explained how their petite dog was great for young children such as our daughter, but a handful on their yacht in Florida. She explained that they had to have a Lilliputian life-preserver made for it since it had a tendency to dive overboard and couldn’t swim. She followed this proclamation by putting the dog down and feeding it Evian water from a sterling silver bowl. Although I joke about our pets eating better than us, this was a real life case of it. Apart from that, Amanda raved about how friendly and down-to-earth all the Ferrari owners were. I concurred that they were remarkably just like us, albeit with a lot more zeros in their bank account.         

 

The buffet lunch was served on the second-floor of the Ferrari VIP suite and it overlooked the track. There were all kinds of luxurious selections, but I settled on baked grouper and roasted potatoes, among other things. As I ate, I reminded myself how fortunate I was to dine to the serenade of 1000 horsepower Ferraris racing below. There were definitely worse ways to spend a weekend.  

 

FERRARI CALIFORNIA T 

Unbelievably, the last official Ferrari event I attended was in October 1995 at Roebling Road Raceway in Savannah, Georgia. Sure, I’ve seen Ferraris at other occasions, but I primarily gave them up for nobler aspirations like getting married, settling down, and starting a family. With my Mom’s passing in January, I realized that life is too short and that I needed to do more things that bring me joy. Now, this wasn’t any sort of existential mid-life crisis or anything, but merely a conscious effort to realistically pursue what I’m passionate about.

 

So when I was offered a test drive of the new 2015 California I certainly didn’t turn it down. After all, this is not only the first brand new Ferrari I’ve ever driven, but also the most powerful and expensive.

 

Put bluntly, the California is Ferrari’s “budget” model, if that’s an appropriate term for a car that costs a quarter of a million dollars. However, after a brief (but fast) test drive, I still found their least-exciting model to be wilder than Fat Tuesday in the French Quarter.

 

Allow me to explain.

 

The original California was targeted solely at prosperous West Coast residents who could enjoy a convertible year round thanks to the temperate climate. It was based on the highly-successful 250 GTO race car and a total of 50 were built between 1958-1960. Next to Magnum P.I.’s 308 and Miami Vice’s Testarossa, the 250 GT California is the most famous Hollywood Ferrari thanks to its inclusion in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Had you bought one when the movie premiered in 1986, it would have cost roughly what the new one goes for today. However, it would have been a real blue-chip investment as one sold last year at auction for $8.8 million. That sum would not only allow you to join the Corse Clienti with an FXXK purchase, but would also leave enough left over to buy every current Ferrari available. 

 

I first saw the California in 2013 at Caffeine and Octane in Atlanta and I’ll admit to being underwhelmed. Typically, it’s not what most people (myself included) envision a Ferrari to be and persistent rumors are that it was originally intended for Maserati until cost overruns forced it to wear a Prancing Horse badge instead. Indeed, it seemed like a combination of features that a Fiat focus group couldn’t agree on. It was the first Ferrari to have a front-engine V8, but it had four seats. It was blessed with a sophisticated multi-link rear suspension, but cursed with a folding metal roof. Surely, if a Ferrari ever had an identity crisis, this was it.

    

Regardless, the California was a money-maker for Maranello with it selling 10,000 units since going on sale in 2010. Granted, 10,000 cars is not a lot when Toyota sells that many Camry’s in a week, but consider that Ferrari only builds 7,500 cars a year and it’s quite significant.

 

So with such strong sales, Ferrari decided to re-invest in the California by giving it a complete sheet-metal makeover and turbo power. It now more closely resembles its larger F12 brethren and has more muscle to match. The byproduct of over 100 hours of wind-tunnel development, it is also the most aerodynamic model next to the F12.

 

Pop the hood, and you’re greeted by the first turbocharged Ferrari since the legendary 1987 F40. The engine bay looks like a Sci-Fi Channel cross between a mutant snake and shark. Huge plastic gills vent heat while menacing black tubes the length and width of anacondas feed cool air to the turbos. Four years in development, the all-new twin-turbo 3.9 liter V-8 replaces the older naturally-aspirated 4.3 liter V-8 and despite the drop in size, gains 101 hp and 199 lb-ft of torque.

 

My chaperone for the test drive was Scott, an associate of Ferrari North America who eerily resembled my friend Joe Driver. He volunteered that he usually works out of the headquarters in New Jersey, but an event of this magnitude requires all resources. Agreed, from the pit lane mechanics who only spoke Italian, to the Asian fellow from Santa Monica who scheduled my test drive, Ferrari is clearly a global brand and employer. 

 

Twenty years ago, I test drove a 1995 F355 GTS at Roebling Road. It was Ferrari’s entry-level model and possessed a 3.5-liter V8 that made 380 hp. At that time, the Italian automaker had also just unveiled their newest flagship car, the F50. It was a convertible that cost $560,000 and had a 513 hp V-12.

 

Fast-forward to 2015 and the California T convertible I’m about to drive makes 560 hp and an equal amount of torque.    

 

That’s right, Ferrari’s cheapest and slowest new car now makes more power and is faster than their F50 supercar!

 

Is technology great or what?!?

 

“So have you ever driven anything like this before?” Scott inquired, perhaps wanting to ensure he’d get back to the Garden State in one piece. I assuaged his apprehension by stating that I had indeed driven a lot of high performance cars. But on the inside, I was more hyper than a kid on Christmas morning. A Ferrari test drive is a lot like a first date with a supermodel. There is only one rule and that is to be cool. Doing backflips in the parking lot with excitement is frowned upon, and can lead to you being judged unworthy, if you appear too eager. So with my best poker face, I pretended it hadn’t been two decades since I’d driven one. And with that revelation behind us, Scott handed me the red-fobbed key and I proceeded to open the driver door.

 

Once inside, the cabin is snug but not claustrophobic, and the prevailing theme is more black leather than you’d find on a dominatrix. Certainly, the onyx cow-hides were nice, but I made a mental note that it certainly wasn’t $220,000 better than the interior appointments in my wife’s 2015 Santa Fe Turbo. Truthfully, I was shocked that there wasn’t any carbon-fiber. The first item Scott brought up was the MagneRide suspension (a $5500 option) which was created by Delphi and originally used on the Cadillac Seville STS. These Magnetorheological shocks are able to infinitely adjust to changing road conditions giving maximum grip and damping. Scott said there are several settings offered, but he prefers the one called “Bumpy Road”. He enables it with a button on the steering wheel and a small icon of a shock absorber briefly glows on the dash. He elaborates that it’s the best compromise between a smooth ride and flat cornering.

 

Next, he points out that thanks to the paddle shifters everything is controlled from the steering wheel. Ferrari wisely realized that stalk-mounted turn signals or windshield wipers might interfere with upshifts and downshifts. Still, it feels quite alien to press a square button on the steering wheel to activate the turn signal.

 

Nestled below the windshield wiper button on the scarlet-stitched steering wheel is perhaps the most important switch of them all. The Manettino (Italian for little lever) is a small red knob that lets the driver toggle between driving assists. The mildest variable is denoted by green and is called “Comfort”. Ferrari reckons this is the setting used most and helps ensure that Beverly Hills housewives have a drama-free trip to the Country Club. Next up is “Sport” which is indicated with white. It’s the program I use and allows maximum power delivery and acceleration while still maintaining traction. The final setting is cautiously marked in red and is labeled “ESC OFF”. This turns off the Electronic Stability Control, and all safety features, and is usually the sole explanation as to how some rich idiot landed his California T in a swimming pool.

 

Scott than enthusiastically turns on the “Infotainment System” which covers the front dash. He brags that the California is the first Ferrari to be equipped with “Apple Play” but all I can think is that it cements the Cupertino company’s plans for world domination. Not interested, I remark that I remember when Ferraris didn’t even come with radios and distract him by asking “Is that the Boost Gauge?” Stacked on the top of the anodized silver dash and flanked by two air vents is a circular LED that looks remarkably similar to the Aeroforce Interceptor in my Red Line. It has three modes and scrolling through them reveals “Turbo Efficiency”, “Turbo Response” and simply “Turbo” with a meter reading from 0-20 PSI. Apparently, the first two statistics are pretty academic, so Scott divulges that he likes to keep it on the boost readout. I’ll later learn that it will only serve as informative to him, since once the twin-turbos starting blowing like Hurricane Katrina, I won’t have a spare millisecond to monitor them.

 

Situated between the two seats is a small bifurcated button with a graphic of a convertible roof on the top and “OPEN” on the bottom. I pull the button back and both windows automatically roll down. Then the aluminum shell above our heads takes on a life of its own as the metal bars begin moving and the roof starts mechanically collapsing. It’s like witnessing a real-life Transformer as the hardtop miraculously folds down and disappears into the trunk. The whole process takes just 14 seconds and then the side windows spring back up.

 

I get ready to thumb the big red “ENGINE START” button on the steering wheel and then Scott intervenes, telling me that I actually have to insert the Smart Key and turn it on before I can start it. This is rather puzzling since my wife’s humble Hyundai doesn’t require a key, but he confesses they’re rectifying that for the 2016 model. However, once it does start I’m pleasantly surprised at the sonorous exhaust note, which sounds more like a deep, domestic V-8 than a high-revving Italian job.

 

In front of me, the large yellow tachometer commands my attention and is punctuated by a 7500 rpm redline. To the right is the speedometer, and to the left are the other vital gauges such as water temperature and oil pressure. I briefly spot the odometer and see this example has covered just 4500 kilometers. Doing the math, it’s barely broken-in at 2800 miles.

 

I put my foot on the shiny cross-drilled brake pedal and pull the thin, right paddle shifter back toward me. On the instrument cluster readout, the transmission gear shifts from a “P” to a “1” and I tentatively press the accelerator, not knowing how the California will react. Thankfully, the throttle requires some heft, so it’s easy to modulate. Initially, I leave it in auto mode so I can concentrate on the power and feedback.

 

The gate guards snap to attention when they see the Ferrari approaching and immediately wave us through like foreign dignitaries.

 

One of my primary gripes about new cars is the ever-escalating weight and the California T is no different, tipping the scales at nearly 4100 lbs. (although it’s 59 lbs. lighter than the previous model). Despite that, I was never aware of the extra mass and the Ferrari felt supremely stable and sure-footed. A lot of the credit for that goes to a nearly perfect 50/50 weight distribution, particularly impressive given the front-engine layout. In fact, what was so extraordinary about it was that it felt so civilized. That is, I was able to stroll along at 60 mph with the top down and carry on a polite conversation as if I was in a Nissan, not a 560 hp exotic. In years past, concessions had to be made if you wanted to drive a Ferrari. They were loud, they were hot, and most of all they were cramped.

 

We turn onto a four-lane highway and Scott urges me to open it up, so I oblige. From a 20 mph roll, I floor the accelerator and the California explodes forward in a frenzied burst of speed. This definitely was not like the Ferraris of yore I’d experienced such as the F355 which required wringing-out to 8000 rpm or the F40 that had so much turbo-lag it could be measured with a sun-dial. No, this thing took off instantly like the Millennium Falcon streaking to hyperspace. The turbos muffle the customary Ferrari shriek, and it’s replaced by the faint whistle of the waste gates as I lift off the gas.

 

In their May issue, Car and Driver timed the California T’s 0-60 sprint in just 3.3 seconds and I believe it. It does other things a convertible has no business doing either such as braking from 70 mph to zero in a scant 162 feet or circling a skid pad at 0.95 g. And since this is the Ferrari most likely to see daily driver duty, it was equipped with All-Season Pirelli P Zeros measuring 245/30-20 on the front and 285/30-20 on the back. Had it been equipped with more aggressive rubber like Pirelli’s Trofeo R, it would have improved on those numbers even more.

 

I slow for an upcoming red light and the carbon-ceramic brakes grip like an F-16 arrestor hook. Naturally, the California is the first car I’ve driven with Formula One-derived stopping power, and it takes some getting used to. Scott notices the shock on my face and proudly proclaims that the alloy discs are good for the life of the car. Here is the perfect ammunition for persuading reluctant wives to see the value in the California: “Honey, I know it’s $250,000 but think how much money we’ll save never having to buy new brakes!”

 

We turn around and head back towards the track and he insists I try the paddle shifters. I agree and he pushes a circular button designated “AUTO” that reverts back to manual transmission control. I see that I’m presently in fourth gear out of the seven available, so I tap the thin left paddle and feel the engine drop to third gear. I surmise this is a good rpm for a quick acceleration run and flat-foot the throttle. Suddenly, it’s as if I’ve angered the God of Horsepower. I’m riding an exponentially increasing wave of power as the California surges to its 7500 rpm redline and I quickly blip the paddle for fourth gear. With the twin-turbos on full-boil, the California T yields a veritable tsunami of torque that I feel might metaphorically sweep me away. I’ve driven a lot of quick cars, but this Ferrari is clearly the fastest. As an illustration, it accelerates from the 60 mph I’m travelling to 100 mph in just 3.8 seconds. That’s barely enough time to process the rapidly blurring surroundings and grab the next gear! If you have the room, the California T will trip the quarter-mile lights in 11.3 seconds at 128 mph and run on up to 170 mph in just 22 seconds. Flat out, Ferrari claims it will do 196 mph, which is plenty fast in a vehicle without a roof.

 

Unfortunately, fear of the Louisiana highway patrol makes me abort the orgasmic flood of speed at 120 mph, a tragic case of accelerationus interruptus. I lament to Scott that I’d enjoy the opportunity to operate the California T on a racetrack whereby I could fully exploit its power and speed without worrying about going to jail. It is so choice. If you have the means, I highly recommend picking one up.

 

As we tootle back into NOLA Raceway, a new set of gate guards are on duty and they apparently take their minimum-wage job very seriously. The off-duty mall cops stop us and ask about our parking pass though it should be obvious that in a Ferrari, at a Ferrari event, we don’t need one. Scott and I try to reason with them, with me even pointing to the fact that we have a New Jersey “Manufacturer” plate on the car. Eventually, it registers and they motion us through, but not before I spot a familiar light blue Honda Accord pulling in behind us. I had seen it earlier at the traffic light before we turned and I ran the Ferrari up to triple-digit velocity. Cognizant of cops, I watched it in my rear view mirror weaving in and out of traffic and passing other cars, but didn’t think anything about it since it was so far back. Now, it strikes me as hilarious that the husband (no doubt doing his best Michael Schumacher impression) was inspired to feebly attempt to keep up with the Ferrari as the wife screamed at him to slow down and the kids cried in the backseat.

 

I park the California between two new 488 GTBs (a yellow one and a black one) and Scott starts the sales pitch, promoting Ferrari’s new seven-year free maintenance schedule. He then segues into an explanation of their Ferrari Financial Services (FFS) division which offers a myriad range of purchasing options from traditional payments to leasing. Believe it or not, they even have a line of credit based on the value of a single Ferrari or collection of Ferraris, with equity amounts starting at $500,000. Although I have no intention of buying one, it’s a sign that Ferrari is evolving with the times and is open to other streams of revenue.

 

All in all, it was a fantastic weekend with great Ferraris, food, and fun. And this time I’m not going to wait another 20 years before doing it again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seoul Mate

My wife has been driving for over twenty years and has never owned an import. Unfortunately, the last nine years with a Ford has changed all that. If you read my 100,000-mile report of our Freestyle in January 2014, than you’ll know what a roller-coaster ride it has been. In 2011, Ford stuck us with a $4000 CVT repair bill when it broke down at just 58,000 miles. Given that we bought it new, and had every recommended service performed at the dealership, I felt that Ford should have covered the repair for us, but they didn’t. And last summer, the new Motorcraft battery we bought died suddenly leaving her and my daughter stranded in the sweltering August heat. Add to that other problems such as a faulty fuel pump sending unit, a leaking valve cover gasket, broken engine mount, and quickly deteriorating air conditioner and it made no sense to fix them and prolong the agony. After all, the cost would exceed the value of the Freestyle thanks to the worst vehicle depreciation I’ve ever seen: That’s right, our 2006 Freestyle’s value has dropped  more than 90% from the new MSRP of $27,000 to now around $2500. So, last fall I made a deal with her to keep the Freestyle through the cooler winter months and then we’d trade it in before the weather got hot in the Spring.

After months of research and the best standard warranty available (60 months/60,000 miles bumper-to-bumper and 120 months/100,000 miles powertrain) we decided on a Hyundai. Based in Seoul, South Korea, Hyundai entered the U.S. Market in 1986 with one model, the Excel. And in that time they’ve turned a big corner in much the same way Honda and Toyota have. Last year, Hyundai placed fourth overall in the 2014 U.S. Initial Quality Study from J.D. Power, and was the highest-ranked non-premium nameplate, up six spots from 2013. And as a testament to improved reliability and striking designs, they’ve seen sales rise 75 percent since 2008. 

Because we had decided on Hyundai, we took a closer look at their Santa Fe crossover which we’ve admired since it debuted in 2001. Initially, we were elated with the Freestyle’s seven-seat capacity. That is, until my wife’s two sisters and their kids began panhandling for rides everywhere. Hauling around a bunch of freeloaders quickly became tiresome and left us wishing we didn’t have a third row. For that reason, we decided on the Santa Fe Sport, which is the five-seat version and eschews the third-row for more cargo space. Equally important was the 2.4-liter four-cylinder, which at 190 hp, was within 10 horsepower of the Freestyle’s 3.0-liter V6, but much less thirsty. We also liked that the Santa Fe was manufactured locally in West Point, Georgia, which is even closer than the Springhill facility my Saturn came from in Tennessee.

In early January, we stopped by Palmer’s Hyundai in Mobile to check out their inventory and take a test drive so Amanda could make sure it was what she wanted. However, it turned out that every Hyundai on the lot had a dealer-applied markup shown as “AMV” which varied anywhere from $1500-$2000. This “Adjusted Market Value” was nothing more than a surreptitious rip-off disguised as a legitimate charge. We left as soon as I saw that, although in hindsight I suppose I should thank them for being upfront about their dishonesty-- it certainly saved me a lot of time.  And much to my surprise, a cursory glance on the Hyundai Forums turned up that the “AMV” gouge is actually quite common among unscrupulous dealers.

Unfortunately, these deceptive tactics made the prospect of visiting new Hyundai showrooms even more undesirable.  So with an aversion usually reserved for trips to the dentist, we avoided any more car shopping until we couldn’t put it off any longer.

On February 3rd, we had to make a trip to Gulfport so I confidently told her that between Gautier and Hattiesburg there were three Hyundai dealers we could choose from. Since it was closest, we happened to end up at Allen Hyundai in Gulfport. Amanda was dead-set on getting a white vehicle, so we test drove the only white Santa Fe 2.4 that they had on the lot.  Regrettably, it was a dealership loaner that customers frequently used when their cars were being serviced. Our salesman downplayed the 7,000 miles on the odometer by advocating how much cheaper we would be able to purchase it for instead of a brand new one. Despite that, the “extensively-used” interior (i.e. carpet stains, evidence of kids punching and/or kicking the back of the seats, etc.) convinced us that we didn’t want it no matter how appealing the discount.

As fate would have it, there was also a white Turbo model on the lot, although I wasn’t too thrilled with the price on it. Whereas the 2.4 model was pretty attractive at $24,950, the Turbo model was $32,995.     

If their sales tactic was selling us an upscale model by first showing us how undesirable the demo model was, it certainly worked. The Turbo was brand new, with plastic still on the floor mats, and showed just 4 delivery miles on the odometer. The entire cabin was steeped in the fragrance of the leather upholstery and it mingled with the new car scent to create a woozy, intoxicating aroma. Perhaps the science of selling luxury items via aromatic scents is not so far-fetched after all? I didn’t have much time to ponder that as we pulled onto the highway and our salesman stabbed the gas to demonstrate the difference a twin-scroll turbocharger makes.

After we turned down a residential side street, it was easier to focus on the upscale appointments present in the Turbo model. For starters, my wife remarked immediately about how much better the leather-wrapped steering wheel felt compared to the regular plastic one. And the Turbo’s massive 235/60-18 wheels notwithstanding, it soaked up bumps as favorably as the smaller 17-inch tires on the 2.4 model. We also noticed that a lot of the optional features we wanted on the 2.4 were standard on the Turbo. My daughter’s primary complaints about the Freestyle centered on floor-mounted vents she couldn’t feel and the sun shining in her face. These problems were instantly solved with the second-row vents near the headrests and retractable rear-window sunshades.

Back at the dealership, I did the math and discovered that to outfit an entry-level 2.4 with all the standard amenities we wanted from the Turbo model (Leather upholstery, 4.3-inch Color touchscreen, Rearview Camera, etc.) would raise the price to $29,600. Now, arithmetic has never been my strong suit, but it seemed crazy to pay almost $30K for a loaded 2.4 model when I could spend a little extra and move up to the Turbo with it’s more-powerful engine and bigger wheels.

Amanda and I decided we wanted the white Turbo model we had driven, but with a weekend in Hattiesburg coming up, we didn’t know when we would get back to Gulfport to buy it. Up until then, our car shopping experience at Allen Hyundai had been much more pleasant than I’d expected. So I thanked our salesman for his time and promised him we’d be back to buy it (which I’m sure he’d heard thousands of times). It was at this point that I anticipated some resistance from him or the sales manager. But they were all as cheerful as could be, and Amanda and I left a little stunned that there was no pressure exerted on us to buy it immediately.

As we drove down the highway, we agreed that the Turbo was perfect, and we didn’t want to let it slip through our fingers. So we turned around and headed back to the dealership. Once there, I asked them to appraise our Freestyle so I could get an idea of what they were willing to pay for it. Granted, the Freestyle was dirty and hadn’t been washed in a while because we had no intention of actually trading it in that day. As such, they offered us $2,200 which fell under the “Rough Trade-In” NADA allowance. Truthfully, it was probably pretty accurate given the condition (122,000 miles, a crack in the windshield, stains on the seats, worn tires, etc.) but I was aiming for the “Average Trade-In” value of $3,000 since I was expecting them to negotiate down from the Santa Fe’s MSRP. Yet to my surprise, they presented me with a quote for the Santa Fe at just $300 over invoice. Secretly, I was delighted with their proposal, but with my best poker face I told them I needed $3,000 for the Freestyle. They agreed to meet me halfway at $2,500 and I accepted since I was already happy with the initial price, and the extra $300 was just icing on the cake. Truthfully, I could have probably haggled my way to $3000, but because the whole experience had been so stress-free, I was satisfied.

I was also pleased that there were no bogus charges like “Undercoating” tacked onto the sticker price. Their only concession to profit was a $99 charge for “Nitrogen-Filled” tires. Naturally, this is not something I would ordinarily purchase, but it does give me the opportunity to finally evaluate this popular trend on my own. Given that the $100,000 Nissan GT-R comes standard with Nitrogen-filled tires tells me there’s some value to it, but whether it will make a difference in our Santa Fe remains to be seen. The primary benefit of filling tires with Nitrogen is the principal that it’s much less susceptible to temperature and pressure fluctuations than conventional oxygen. As the water vapor expands or contracts due to heat and cold, it can make it necessary to regulate the amount of air in the tires on a weekly basis. Now, with the Santa Fe’s sophisticated Tire Pressure Monitoring System (TPMS) I can easily keep an eye on the individual pressures without having to use an old-fashioned tire gauge.

Our Turbo was also liberally outfitted with handsome, black carpeted floor mats and a black cargo mat. With Santa Fe stitched in silver on them, they retail for $160 and $130 respectively. I didn’t protest this accessory because I was going to buy them regardless. Sure, I could have saved a few dollars by purchasing them on Ebay, but then I would have had to wait a week or more on the shipping. The plush cargo mat is also so nice that it’s a shame to actually have to use it. I thought about buying a plastic cargo mat for it, but it seemed redundant to have a cover for the cover.  

The other dealer-installed addition that was already on the Turbo when we bought it was a heavy-duty trailer hitch. Unlike the garish ones with the shiny silver ball you see on pickup trucks, this was an all-black Class 2 Hitch with a two-inch receiver specifically designed for the Santa Fe. When not in use, a rectangular cover with the Hyundai logo keeps it camouflaged. Like the Nitrogen-inflated tires, this is not something I would have purposely specified, but it’s nice to have. Our Freestyle had a meager 1000 lbs. towing capacity, and that coupled with the troublesome transmission meant we would have never dreamed of even pulling a balloon behind it. But the Santa Fe can tow a whopping 3,500 lbs. which means I can even pull my Saturn if the need arises.

We had to transfer a significant amount of possessions from the Freestyle to the Santa Fe and this highlighted one of my wife’s favorite new features of the 2015 model-- The Hands-Free Smart Liftgate. It’s exceedingly convenient to not have to fumble with opening the rear liftgate when your hands are full. It also closes automatically which squelches one of my biggest gripes with the manual liftgate on the Freestyle and that was dusty handprints from numerous opening and closings. However, when the Santa Fe’s liftgate does close there’s enough alarms and flashing lights to make you wonder if a NASA Space Shuttle launch is imminent. Ostensibly, I believe this is so any appendages and small children are clear of the area. Otherwise, those items might be hastily converted into pâté.

As I mentioned before, the CVT in the Freestyle was great when it worked properly, and I was worried we had gotten spoiled on its seamless upshifts and downshifts over the past nine years. However, I was excited by just how smooth the Santa Fe’s six-speed automatic is. In fact, Hyundai utilizes their patented “Shiftronic” technology to allow drivers to manually select the gears if they so desire. This dynamic demeanor is further emphasized by a new 32-bit microprocessor that manages the electric power steering. For 2015, Hyundai's Driver Selectable Steering Mode (DSSM) has been enhanced with a retuned “Sport” setting that offers a firmer feel and more responsive feedback. Complementing this are new tire bushings, increased stiffness in the wheel bearings, lower control arms, and revised suspension geometry. The net result of all this engineering voodoo is an SUV that feels as solid as a Sherman tank, and tracks just as straight.

Of course, the Santa Fe would be as useless as a screen door on a submarine if it couldn’t get out of it’s own way. To combat this, Hyundai installed its Theta II turbocharged 2.0 four-cylinder. This engine is shared with the Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution and was jointly developed under the Global Engine Manufacturing Alliance. It’s also remarkably similar to the supercharged 2.0 four-cylinder in my Saturn. But thanks to ultramodern electronic sorcery lacking on my Red Line such as Variable Valve Timing (VVT) and Gasoline Direct Injection (GDI), the Santa Fe makes 265 hp on 87 octane (or 280 hp on 93 octane). Enthusiasts will recall that the legendary Syclone truck also made 280 hp, but required a turbocharged 4.3 V-6 to accomplish it. Car and Driver recently tested the 2015 Santa Fe Turbo Limited model with all-wheel drive, and noted that in spite of the excessive curb weight of 4,021 lbs., it still managed a sports car-like 6.6-second sprint to 60 mph. Furthermore, with our two-wheel drive model weighing some 450 lbs. less, it slices nearly a half-second from those figures. That would put our Turbo door-to-door with my Red Line’s stock quarter-mile of 14.7 @ 97 mph. Even more astounding, it grinds to a halt from 70 mph in 168 ft., just six-feet longer than my 2,800 lb. Saturn.  And although horsepower is bumped nearly 50% from the 2.4’s 190, it’s the inflated torque that makes the Santa Fe Turbo so responsive. Whereas the naturally-aspirated 2.4 doesn’t reach it’s maximum torque of 181 lb.-ft. until a lofty 4250 rpm, the Turbo achieves it’s 270 lb.-ft. at a much more usable 1750 rpm. Generating this twist is a Mitsubishi TD04 model that offers an overboost of 16-18psi with a sustained surge of 14psi. And ensuring 100,000 miles of trouble-free operation, the 1998cc block is reinforced with a ladder frame and forged connecting rods. Also, the engine is built at the Hyundai plant in Montgomery, Alabama, before being shipped over to Georgia for final assembly. Moreover, because the Santa Fe’s engine bay is sized to accommodate the larger 3.3-liter V6 of the 7-seat GLS model, there’s a surplus of space for the four-cylinder. In fact, this is the most space I’ve had in an engine compartment since my 1990 Mustang GT. And for someone accustomed to doing his own oil changes and other maintenance, it’s quite refreshing.

Hyundai has worked more magic than David Copperfield when designing the Santa Fe. Outwardly, it appears small and compact, but it’s no illusion how much interior room it has. In fact, it’s the exact same width as the Freestyle, yet 5 inches taller and a foot shorter. The extra height translates into the amphitheater-like openness of the cabin but the shorter length does sacrifice roughly 10 cubic feet of cargo space. Going in, this was a concession we knew we’d have to accept. What I wasn’t expecting was having a smaller gas tank. We’d gotten accustomed to the Freestyle’s 19 gallon tank, so to downsize to a 17.4 one in the Santa Fe came as a bit of a shock. Anyway, I rationalized that with the Hyundai’s superior fuel economy (we’ve seen as high as 34.8 mpg), we could still go considerably further than the Freestyle even with a tinier tank.

As we proceeded to leave the dealership, I pressed the illuminated “ENGINE START/STOP” button and the Santa Fe hummed to life. With the futuristic blue glow of the Electroluminescent Gauge Cluster, I felt like I was on the bridge of the U.S.S. Enterprise. Everywhere around me there were screens processing and displaying information. In the center console, a picture of the Santa Fe came up with “System Scan” flashing above it. A light bounced back and forth like it was being X-rayed, but thankfully it was just a routine check and not an impending TSA airport strip search. I counted no less than 17 buttons just on the steering wheel, for managing everything from the Bluetooth and USB devices to the satellite radio. Even the mirror had 7 buttons! Meanwhile, Amanda was busy adjusting the temperature of her heated leather seat. Travelling down the highway, a vehicle pulled alongside on my left and the Blind Spot Detection (BSD) lit up an amber silhouette of a car in my driver’s side mirror, warning me that it was there. This is a great feature since my wife is notoriously bad about changing lanes without looking. Even better, the Lane Change Assist can issue a Rear Cross-Traffic Alert (RCTA) that audibly cautions the driver if they try to move into a space occupied by another motorist. This, coupled with an alphabet-soup of safety features such as Electronic Stability Control (ESC), Traction Control System (TCS) and Vehicle Stability Management (VSM) system means even Stevie Wonder would be hard pressed to crash it. But, if such an unfortunate incident does occur, the Santa Fe is prepared with a whopping seven airbags covering everything from our head to our knees and earning it a five-star safety rating.

The next morning, I drove my 1996 del Sol to work and it felt like I had awakened twenty years in the past. The rudimentary controls and analog items (like the odometer and cassette player) were quite a shock after I had spent the previous night acclimating myself to the Santa Fe’s digital domain.  

So what are the Santa Fe’s shortcomings? Thankfully nothing major, but I’ve found a few nitpicks here and there. For starters, at the post $30K price-point I’d expect Xenon headlights and LED taillights but they’re only available in a $4,400 “Ultimate” package that includes such frivolous items as “Premium Door Sill Plates” and “Ultimate Badging on Liftgate”, the latter of which can be purchased on Ebay for $19.99. I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that even econoboxes like a new $16,000 Toyota Corolla now come with standard Xenon headlights or a Nissan Sentra with LED tailights. Also, the steering wheel is so cluttered with buttons that there’s no room for an opening at the bottom of the steering wheel to rest my hand on long trips. At best, I can squeeze two fingers through, but this makes for an awkward grip like I’m attempting to throw a Major League knuckleball. And that would not be recommended on a ten-hour drive to Disney World unless I wanted prematurely arthritic hands. Again, this is our first car ever without that convenience, along with slippery, leather-covered door ledges that are too narrow to prop my arm on. Secondly, the maintenance schedule calls for new spark plugs at 45,000 miles which seems awfully early. The plugs on my Red Line are not due for a change until 100,000 miles although I did move to a colder plug when I dropped pulley sizes. Additionally, there’s so much power on tap that my wife is having to learn to recalibrate her right foot. Even with traction control enabled, she recently spun the tires merging into traffic which prompted my startled daughter to scream from the backseat, “ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL US?!?” Obviously, Victoria’s come to expect rapid acceleration from my car, but the Mom-mobile is another story. I’m also not particularly enamored with the Kumho Crugen tires which sound like something you’d order at Benihana. Truthfully, I had similar misgivings about the Continental Contisports on our Freestyle, but they ended up lasting 65,000 miles so I guess I really can’t complain.   

Considering we paid $27,000 for our no-frills Freestyle when we bought it new in March 2006, the Santa Fe Turbo represents a tremendous bargain at $30,000 out the door. It’s more luxurious, more powerful, and more fuel-efficient. We had cross-shopped other models such as the Mercedes-Benz GLK350 which Amanda really liked, but it had worse fuel-economy, a shorter warranty, and a nearly $10,000 premium. Having happily driven Saturns for twenty years, I’ve never been compelled to buy a car because of it’s fancy hood ornament, although those status-seeking individuals in Hurley who do are easy to spot. No, I think we’ll be just fine with our SUV that was built in Georgia and not Germany, thank you very much.

However, I do hope that our Santa Fe’s reliability is better than Hyundai’s customer relations. On the way back from my daughter’s dance competition in Birmingham, we stopped off to take a picture of our new Santa Fe in front of the manufacturing facility. Since it was a Sunday, I knew there would be no guided tours, so we simply pulled off on the side of the road to snap a shot with the sprawling facility in the background. And judging by the ruts and lack of grass on the shoulder, it looked like we weren’t the first to do that. I stepped outside while Amanda and Victoria remained inside the vehicle. I was having difficulty lining up our Santa Fe with the large Hyundai sign when I saw a Chevy Suburban rapidly approaching with the headlights flashing and the horn blaring. It pulled alongside and I saw a young black woman was the sole occupant. She had the passenger window down and started yelling at me that I couldn’t take pictures and that they were about to get my tag number and call the police. I almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Clearly, I was not some spy committing international espionage. Even after I calmly pointed out that I had bought a new Hyundai and simply wanted to take a picture in front of the sign, she was less friendly than the Japanese during World War II. So when I saw that her hostile attitude wasn’t going to change, I ceased trying to reason with her and we left. Conversely, I mentioned to my wife that despite the woman’s bluster and idle threats, there was nothing legally they could do since I was on a public highway. But the experience did leave me with one nagging conundrum that will possibly never be answered: Hyundai’s security patrol drives Chevy Suburbans!?!  

Over Spring Break, we took our longest trip yet to Panama City and Destin. With enough insects and bugs splattered on our windshield to make an entomologist envious, and white sand covering every square inch inside and out, I do believe our Santa Fe has lost it’s luster of newness. But the big thrill for me was observing the real-time fuel economy of 28.4 mpg at an air-conditioned 85 mph on the interstate. In comparison, the Freestyle only managed 22 mpg on a similar Florida trip last year, and that’s not even counting the Hyundai’s extra horsepower. And despite the worst tourist traffic we’ve ever encountered on the Emerald Coast, the Santa Fe handled it and the soaring spring temperatures with aplomb. My only complaint was some initial stiction in the accelerator pedal which made it hard to smoothly apply the throttle. Other than that, it was much lighter and more nimble than the longer and heavier Freestyle.   

Finally, my daughter has christened our new Frost White Santa Fe “Elsa” after the polar queen from Disney’s Frozen. And because everything was so rushed with us buying it spontaneously, I needed some assurance that we chose the ideal one to serve us for the next 10 years. It was a couple days after we got it home that I noticed the build date of January 6th 2015, which coincidentally was the same day as my Mother’s passing. So, was it just a cosmic coincidence that of all the Santa Fe’s we ended up with this one? For me, that’s a clear enough sign that she approves, and that we picked the right one.    

Pirate Press Readers' Rides: 2013 Ford Focus ST

It’s not often I get the opportunity to review a new performance car owned by one of the long-time readers of Pirate Press, but this just so happens to be one of those rare occasions.

The vehicle in focus is, funny enough, a Focus. And due to it’s humble origins, it gets about as much respect as my Saturn.

That’s right, the Focus started out in 1998 as the successor to the Ford Escort, the ubiquitous economy car of Generation X. Granted, the Escort was a decent, albeit unexciting, way to get from Point A to Point B. And it seemed that it fell into two sales demographics: If you were unlucky enough to be under twenty, or over sixty, you owned an Escort.

Ford sought to overturn this prejudice with the 2002 Focus SVT. It was the 170 hp car for people who wanted some caffeine in their morning coffee, but without the high-insurance and fuel-penalty of the Mustang GT. Built in small batches like a good whiskey, it was even named as one of Car and Driver’s 10 Best Cars of 2002. Alas, like Formula 1 in North America, the SVT Focus was largely invisible and cancelled in 2004.

But it’s overseas success continued and in 2005, Ford introduced the second generation of the Focus ST in Europe. With 225 hp and a 152 mph top speed, it put the Focus on North American wish lists even though it was more politically non grata than Fidel Castro.

All the while, British publications continued to rub our Yankee noses in the fact that we couldn’t buy one at any price. In 2009, Autocar picked the 300 hp Focus RS over the 480 hp Nissan GT-R: “The Focus RS is no match for the GT-R on The 'Ring, where the massive power and sophisticated AWD setup gives the Nissan a clear advantage over the FWD, 300 HP Ford. Take the two out to some wonderful back roads in the English countryside and it's a slightly different story. Whereas the GT-R is all about the controlled distribution of force, the Focus RS is all about confident fun. As a real world daily driver on narrow roads with steep drop-offs and few long straights, the Focus RS wins out in terms of experience.”

Top Gear U.K. presented a similar argument pitting the RS against Ford’s 550 hp GT supercar with the same conclusion: “It doesn't matter that the GT has several hundred horsepower more than the RS, it doesn't matter that it can pull more lateral G, or that it is by some margin a more focused fast car. It's just that in the RS you can deploy 85 percent of the available ability in every situation. The GT can't. On any kind of straight, the GT murders the RS, no matter how useless the driver, but it's when you start to pinch back effortless seconds on the bendy bits that the RS starts to make rich owners of supposedly superior cars sweat quite badly and have militant thoughts about their latest supercar acquisition.”

With such effusive praise, it was therefore met with mini-riots of celebration when it was revealed that Ford would finally start selling the new 252 hp 2013 Focus ST here. Naturally, there was some dissent that we weren’t getting the hotter 300 hp RS model, or the ultimate 350 hp RS500, but in retrospect it looks like Ford knew what it was doing.

The particular Tuxedo Black 2013 Focus ST that I drove belongs to Randy Saunders, a life-long enthusiast who has driven Fords for thirty years. Starting with a new 1986 Mustang GT, he progressed up the horsepower ladder before ending with a modified 2007 Shelby GT500 that made over 600 hp at the rear wheels. He’s also an experienced driver, having spent those same three decades racking up countless races on the street and at the track.

We met up at the Cars and Coffee I covered last month and when it was winding down, he offered me the opportunity to take the Focus for a spin. Like myself, he’s keenly aware that his car doesn’t carry a prestigious nameplate and that may cause some discrimination at car shows. However, he expects it and with his self-deprecating sense of humor, he’s the first to make fun of it. “What idiot would pay $30K for a Focus?” he asks rhetorically before answering, “Oh, wait...I did!”  

Upon opening the driver door, I was greeted by the deeply bolstered Recaro seats. Part of the top-of-the-line $4,435 ST3 Equipment Group, these heated leather seats are the closest to actual race car seats that I’ve ever experienced in a production car. However, if you routinely shop in the “Big & Tall” section or purchase “Husky”-size pants, then you might want to pass on the snug-fitting chairs. They’re wonderful for holding you in place during spirited driving, but may be a bit uncomfortable if your waistline approaches your age. In fact, we spoke at length to one such portly owner who purposely purchased his Focus ST without the Recaros for that very reason.

The next thing that strikes me is that there is no ignition cylinder or place for a key, just a push-button start. Naturally, this would have saved GM millions of dollars in legal woes, bad publicity, and recall headaches if cars such as mine had this feature.  I tentatively push the red Start/Stop button and with a brief whir of the starter, the Focus comes to life.

Randy reaches over and makes an adjustment on the dash. I see an image of a tiny car with wavy lines behind it illuminate on the instrument panel. “I’ve just turned off the traction control,” he announces before adding, “You’re in Sport Mode now.” He explains that there are two other settings as well: The default setting is called “Standard Mode” and enables all driving aids allowing the car to maintain grip and stability in virtually any weather condition. The other setting is the most extreme, which disables all electronic intervention. Depending on your skill level, this can either be a blessing or a curse. However, with “Sport Mode” the system acts as high-wire net, intruding only if I do something life-threatening.       

As I find first in the gearbox and go to pull away, I’m startled by the light take-up of the clutch. Typically, performance cars are imbued with heavy clutch pedals due to the necessary clamping force. I recall there was a distinct increase in clutch stiffness when I graduated from my 125 hp SC2 to my 205 hp Red Line. But the ST’s airy clutch takes some getting used to, as I don’t want to embarrassingly stall it at an intersection.

Turning a corner, the leather-wrapped steering wheel looks and feels good in my hands. It has thumb grips at the Ten and Two positions as well as thick, contrasting stitching. At the bottom, there’s an aluminum insert with a bright red “ST” emblazoned on it. Unlike the clutch, there’s just the right amount of weight to it--- it’s neither too light nor too heavy. There are buttons on either side of the steering wheel, but I don’t have the time or the inclination to study them in traffic.

Even short-shifting around town, it’s evident how torque-friendly the 2.0-liter four-cylinder is. In stock form, the turbocharged engine is electronically limited to 270 lb.-ft. at 2500 rpm, but Randy’s custom “Unleashed” tune bumps that up to a neck-snapping 340 lb.-ft. at just 2800 rpm. I remark to him how torquey the Focus is and he points out that I’m not even in the boost yet. Indeed, nestled in a tiny nacelle on the top of the dash are three gauges. The turbo boost gauge is in the middle, flanked by one for water temperature and the other for oil pressure. The boost gauge spans from 0-25 PSI and I ask Randy how much it produces with the tune and he replies 22 PSI. He admits it could make more, but instead prefers to err on the conservative side for safety reasons. As I dip into the boost in second gear, I discover that the gauge is really more for aesthetics than information. Unless you’re a passenger, it’s simply impossible to divide your eyesight between it and the road as the car leaps forward. Incidentally, Randy states that with the new tune there’s not the precipitous drop-off in power experienced with the stock electronics. Now, he declares, it pulls strongly all the way to the red line.

Prior to the drive, Randy had warned me about torque steer with the car in Sport Mode, but if there was any present I positively didn’t feel it. With meaty 235/40-18 Goodyear Eagle F1 tires and electrically-assisted rack-and-pinion steering, the ST laid down all 340 lb.-ft. of torque with nary a tug at the wheel. As for power, a tune-adjusted 250+ horsepower is present at the front wheels. And due to a lightweight composite intake manifold and cam cover, as well as an exhaust manifold integrated within the cylinder head, turbo-lag is practically non-existent.

When it comes time to stop, I discovered the brakes are as touchy as the clutch. There’s maybe an inch of travel before they grab and then they stop RIGHT NOW! Seriously, the first time I used them I almost catapulted us through the windshield. Confidence-inspiring is an understatement for these discs which measure 12.6 inches up front and 10.7 in the back. Stopping distance is a measured 164 feet from 70 mph with excellent modulation.

Despite the stunning acceleration and braking, Randy claims the ST’s real strength is in the handling. Like an overzealous driving instructor, he urged me to go faster and faster on each and every corner we tackled. “Don’t use the brakes!” he demanded as we’d lean into a curve, which is something you seldom hear on test drives. Sure enough, there was no body-roll or sideslip even at fantastic speeds. Yet remarkably, the washboard-stiff chassis didn’t translate to a jarring or harsh ride. Freeway expansion strips were met with a muted thump that didn’t upset the balance of the car, and the ST was so calm and centered that I felt I could drive it for days on end.              

The Ford engineers could have simply stopped there and the ST would have still been a roaring success. But they went a step further, and made sure the rest of the car was commensurate with the powertrain. As we were stopped at a red light, Randy commanded, “Play Kickstart My Heart!” Immediately, Mick Mars’ famous opening guitar riff flooded the cabin and the MyFord Touch display screen lit up with all the pertinent info from the Dr. Feelgood album. Randy cranked up the stereo momentarily to let me sample it before turning it down and concluding, “Not too bad for a stock system!” The built-in navigation is also a nice feature, and sure beats the heck out of having to suction-cup a Garmin GPS to the windshield on trips. Finally, there’s even a “Hill Assist” function for parking on steep grades. I can’t really envision using it around here, but I suppose it would be a lifesaver in areas like San Francisco.

Although gas prices have started declining, nearly eight years with the Obama Administration has turned car enthusiasts’ questions of “What’s the MPH?” to “What’s the MPG?” Surprisingly, the average displayed on Randy’s Focus is a very respectable 29.4 MPG. He adds that this is on the low-side from a lot of city driving, and that he has seen as high as 34 MPG on the highway. Incredibly, he credits the aftermarket programming for actually improving his overall fuel economy. And with the handheld programmer, he can load various tunes on the fly depending on what is required. For instance, a trip to the dealer necessitated flashing it back to stock, or if no premium fuel is available (a scenario that happened after Hurricane Katrina) there’s even a low-octane setting. All totaled, he has six different configurations to choose from, and setting a new one only takes a couple minutes.

So what’s not to like about the ST? Well, and some might not even consider this a negative, the car is almost too quiet. Ford was aware of this during development and even went so far as to design a system that pipes in manufactured acoustics. Called a “Sound Symposer” it utilizes a sophisticated valve and composite paddle to amplify and transmit the desired sounds into the cabin. Understandably, this synthetic sound has fallen on a lot of deaf ears with owners who resent the effort. Randy, for his part, has removed the symposer completely. And to make his Focus more vocal, he’s ordered a new cat-back exhaust system that deletes the muffler entirely. He says it will be easy to spot since it replaces the factory trapezoidal exhaust tip with two rounded ones. Regrettably, it arrived too late to be included in the test drive, but he sent me a picture after it was installed.

Also, it seems the designers didn’t pay as much attention to the engine bay as they did the Focus’s flashy exterior. When I popped my hood at Cars and Coffee to proudly show off the supercharger, Randy simply shrugged his shoulders and maintained there was no reason for him to do the same, since a large shroud conceals much of the engine and turbocharger. Certainly, there’s an eye-catching “ST” logo on the intake manifold, but most everything else is hidden under acres of black plastic. Again, some might not be turned off by this, particularly those who aren’t enamored with cleaning their engines every week.

And as with any new model, there were also some minor teething problems such as a recommended removal and replacement of the rear motor mount for customers who experienced a loud noise when changing gears. Still, for a first year car, that’s not an awfully bad thing. 

Finally, and this isn’t a ding against the Focus as much as it is against my driving habits, but I had trouble with the six-speed transmission. The physical location of the gearbox was over much more than what I’m used to, so I was continually making sure that I had first gear and not third. Secondly, the ST’s engine was so smooth and drama-free that Randy had to to continually remind to shift into sixth gear. Typically, engine noise from the high revs will alert you to shift into the next gear, but the Focus was so tolerant that I was never aware I was in the wrong gear.     

We pull back into the parking lot and I look at the odometer and see a mere 11,000 miles from nearly two years of ownership. I’ve seen exotic cars with higher mileage than that. Although it would make a perfect 300 hp daily driver, Randy defends the weekends-only use as a consequence of both the distance he commutes daily, as well as where he commutes. He relates a story of his previous work car that was retired with 250,000 miles on it. He travels the interstate nearly 500 miles each week and claims the combination of bugs and highway debris had literally sand-blasted the paint off the nose and hood. Besides, he wants to keep the Focus pristine for whatever he decides to trade it in on next. He says a recent test drive of the new 2015 Mustang GT was met with disappointment when it failed to handle as well as his Focus. But for now, he’s waiting on the new Shelby GT-350 and Focus RS before he makes his decision.   

Cars and Coffee Mississippi Gulf Coast

On October 1st, a thread popped up on the South Central section of the Ferrari Forum which was entitled, “Cars & Coffee (Gulf Coast - Biloxi/Gautier, MS)”. Given that the South Central geographic area comprises Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee and Georgia, seeing something Ferrari-related just thirty minutes from my house happens about as often as Jennifer Lopez and Iggy Azalea show up at my front door to sing “Booty”.

Which is to say, um, never.

No, I live in possibly the single worst state for exotic cars. And before you say “Kentucky!”, know that someone very rich just bought the first LaFerrari in Atlanta and had it delivered to the Bluegrass state. And at an MSRP of $1.69 Million, that’s a lot of KFC chicken wings!

I could scarcely believe what I was reading and my eyes devoured every word as if I had received a winning letter from Publisher’s Clearing House:

”After some speculations and planning, a community of exotic owners over on the Gulf Coast area thought it would be nice to turn their annual meets into something bigger and more meaningful... Cars & Coffee! This is the first ever establishment of Cars & Coffee down here on the Gulf Coast (Biloxi/Gautier MS area) so mark this down on your calendar and come on out!”

Naturally, this sounded great but it was still over two months away and our coastal weather is about as unpredictable as Kim Jong-un. Until the date drew closer, it could potentially be postponed---or even cancelled outright---by a December deluge.

One week out, I replied to the forum thread that the weather looked great and inquired if everyone was still planning on attending. The person that started the thread replied, “We will be there at 6:45AM to setup and hangout.”

On Thursday after work, I decided to brave the cold and wash my car so I could devote Saturday to detailing the interior and exterior. I proceeded to spend roughly three hours washing and drying it in the dark before securing it under a car cover. On Friday morning, I attempted to drive the del Sol only to realize that the cold and lack of use had killed it’s battery. In fact, the battery was so dead, it wouldn’t even respond to a jump-start. Frantically, I tried our little Suzuki truck (which usually never leaves our thirty acres) but it’s battery was also deader than Elvis. It was at this point that I realized I had no other choice but to drive my spotless Saturn, thereby effectively throwing away the previous night’s three hours of cleaning. Naturally, this was quite frustrating, and I’m sure people two states across heard my screaming Tourette's Syndrome-string of expletives. As such, this twist of fate gave me the unique opportunity to hand wash and dry my car all over again, thereby presenting me with the dubious honor for the cleanest car ever washed twice in twenty-four hours. 

Come Saturday, I set about detailing the engine bay down to such extremes as repainting some of the more visible silver and black bolts and slathering the interior and exterior in approximately fifty gallons of Armor-All. This fanatical level of concentration extended to even cleaning and Armor-Alling the wheel wells. I can count on one hand the number of times I have ever washed the wheel wells, and this was the first.

Fortunately, unseasonably warm weather was the forecast for the event which meant our Christmas Cars and Coffee was one of the only gatherings in the nation that could be attended in shorts and t-shirts without fear of frostbite. The weather was perfect, proving that God loves Ferraris, and my alarm clock awakened me abruptly at 6:00 AM. I’m not a morning person, so I typically get up early on Sundays about as  often as Halley’s Comet passes by. Nevertheless, early Sunday morning drives are their own reward, as many of the idiots that clog our country’s byways are still blissfully sleeping off the previous night’s inebriation. This allowed me ample opportunity to drive my car at 120 mph thereby killing polar bears, destroying the Amazon, and depleting our natural resources even faster than I normally do! In fact, it was at this felonious velocity that I passed a blue Mazda RX-8 whom I was sure was also on his way to Cars and Coffee. But given the fact that I never saw it again, I can only assume that he was either really early, or really late, for something else.

Once I entered Gautier’s city limits, I clamped down on the 40 mph speed limit faster than a politician on a bribe. The city of Gautier had fought the legislation allowing the Cars and Coffee event tooth-and-nail, so it was no secret they were expecting us. The last thing I needed was some rookie trying to make an example of me.

 

Cars and Coffee officially kicked off at 8:00 AM, but I arrived a little after 7:45. Anyone who’s ever been to one knows that if you’re on-time, than you’re already late. For instance, to get the best parking spots at Caffeine and Octane in Atlanta, participants usually line-up around 6:00 AM.     

 

The small parking lot held spaces for 80 cars, but over 180 on social media had pledged to show up. As I backed into a parking spot, I saw the exotics had already arrived. They were parked in the east corner, and the unwritten rule was that area was reserved solely for them. Among them was a McLaren MP4-12C, Lamborghini Gallardo, Dodge Viper, and three Nissan GT-Rs.

 

It immediately became evident that the neurotic amount of time spent preparing my car was unnecessary, as it garnered very little attention compared to the exotics in attendance. Regardless, I’d like to let the record show that my $25,000 Saturn was indeed cleaner than the $250,000 McLaren.  Previously, I had joked that my Saturn would be the only one there, but I was proven wrong by someone who brought a trashed-out, four-door Saturn Aura. Looking like it hadn’t been washed since a Republican was in office, it was boldly parked in the lineup between a new $75,000 Camaro Z/28 and a stunning Acura NSX. Indeed, there was no way I could hope to compete with it and the set of Pep Boys fog lights haphazardly screwed to the front grill.

 

Despite the fact that it was the Ferrari forum that brought me here, there were only three present and all were V8 models--- a 2000 F360, a 2005 F430 and a black F360 Spider that curiously showed up near the end. The F430 still bore temporary tags and I happened to strike up a conversation with the owner of the F360, Richard Weavil, a successful property developer from Mobile, AL. As fate would have it, we both knew B.J. Lyon, and our exchange took off from there. He was impressed by my encyclopedic knowledge of Ferraris which I demonstrated when I noticed that his car had been purchased from Foreign Cars Italia. Taking me for a neophyte, he elaborated that it was an authorized Ferrari dealer in Greensboro, North Carolina. I then proceeded to tell him I knew it well, and that it was where Bob Rapp had purchased the first Enzo (and a yellow one, at that) delivered to North America in 2003. I further amazed him when I correctly guessed that his louder-than-stock exhaust was from an aftermarket Capristo muffler. He simply shook his head in disbelief when he lifted the engine bonnet to show it off. I told him my one reservation about buying a Ferrari similar to his F360 was the horror stories about maintenance costs and reliability problems. He didn’t deny that they weren’t possible, but stated that despite his being a relatively high-mileage example (with 40K on the odometer) he’d had very few problems. Richard volunteered that the secret was finding a good local mechanic who could troubleshoot those issues. Otherwise, it would require loading on a flatbed and hauling to Ferrari of Atlanta which was an expensive and time-consuming process. He recounted a similar experience where he said the car was just running awful. Upon inspection by his mechanic, it was determined with a temperature gun to the mufflers that the left bank of cylinders was running a lot hotter than the right. That established that the Mass Airflow Sensor was the culprit and a new one was an easy fix. But he cautioned that even though he saved a small fortune due to bypassing the dealer, the Bosch sensor was still a whopping $975. In comparison, when we had to replace the MAF unit on our 2006 Ford Freestyle it was less than $100, and the Ferrari actually uses two, one for each bank of cylinders. 

The “oddity” of the group, and that’s saying a lot when there was also a gold Lamborghini with “MO DILLA” emblazoned across the front windshield and a hot rod with a plywood roof, was a 1984 Fiero possessing a 350 V8. Boasting an “Antique Car” license plate and enough stickers to make any ten year-old jealous, the Fiero had a handmade sign with such inspirational messages as “Dream it”, “DO IT!” and, of course, “Team USA”.  Sadly, I never spotted motivational speaker Tony Robbins nor did I have any idea he was touring the country in a thirty year-old Pontiac.   

It was unanimously decided that the award for “Best-in-Show on an Unlimited Budget” was the bright-orange McLaren MP4-12C. Regrettably, I didn’t get any pictures of it because it was always mobbed more than 1 Direction at an elementary school. But the enthusiastic owner, a short man who could pass for Danny Devito’s brother, was not afraid to drive it. He bragged that with 30,000 miles on it, his 12C was the highest mileage in the world. And he started that by driving it the 500-miles from Park Place McLaren in Dallas back to his home in Louisiana. He claims the first set of tires lasted nearly 25,000 miles, and then produced a small notebook where he’d jotted down the fuel economy for every fill-up. Amazingly, the averages were in the mid 20’s and this is despite the spirited driving which included him hitting 180 mph past a barn on a rural road. “I could have gone faster,” he chuckled “but I was afraid of a deer running out in front of me.” Fair enough, I suppose if anything could be accused of sending a deer into a frenzy it would be an alien-looking object, the color of the sun, shrieking down the highway at 264 feet per second. He then raised the driver’s door skyward for a better view of the carpeted monocoque tub and carbon-fiber cabin. The mile-wide sill looked like an obstacle for an Olympic hurdler, but he claimed the 12C is a real sweetheart in traffic, with none of the fussiness usually attributed to a super car. It might not have been the fastest (that honor went to the 1000 hp Nissan GT-R with the questionably-colored blue wheels and mufflers) but it was certainly the most complete package.

“Best-in-Show on a Budget” went to the red 2015 Camaro Z/28. Granted, $75,000 ain’t pocket change, but then again, this isn’t your Uncle Sal’s Camaro. Nope, this is the Chevy that actually matched-- and even outpaced-- the million-dollar Porsche 918 Spyder on several sections of Virginia International Raceway during Car and Driver’s 2014 Lightning Lap. A lot of the credit rests on the shoulders of the Z/28’s enormous tires (the fronts alone are 305/30, a staggering 11-inches across). Shod with ultra-sticky Pirelli Trofeo R rubber, these tires barely qualify as street-legal. And with an 80 tread-wear that’s thinner than a bible page, don’t expect them to last more than a few thousand miles or a couple track days. Also, that gorgeous black front splitter means a trip to Wal-Mart, McDonalds, or anywhere else you might encounter a speed bump, is strictly off-limits. 

In absentia was a new lime-colored Dodge Challenger with the “Hellcat” package. The local owner recently picked the car up, and had promised online to display it at Cars and Coffee, but was a no-show. It would have been amusing because nothing says “green” and eco-friendly like a 707 horsepower supercharged 6.2-liter HEMI V8 that gets 13 mpg. In fact, some of the Hellcat’s rumored colors that didn’t make the cut were “Catch Me Copper”, “Unforeseeable Fuchsia” and “Statutory Grape”.  Also conspicuously missing was a single Cobalt SS or Neon SRT-4, usual staples of car meets. And aside from an old truck with a “Honk if you love Dick” bumper sticker (that advertised a restaurant called Dirty Dick’s) and two Honda Civics with fuzzy stick-on antlers and large red noses, the event was thankfully rice-free.    

 

Overall, the inaugural Cars and Coffee was a resounding success. By 9:00 AM, all the parking spaces were full and the cars trickling in had to be directed to the overflow lot across the street. As they began to leave around 11:00, many practiced the celebratory departure seen at Cars and Coffee events across America. That is, a smoky exit with the tires spinning and the engine howling. Naturally, this is a highlight of the show and we initially thought the police presence might put a kibosh on that finale. But miraculously, the traffic cops stood by as one after another lit up the rear tires. Or, as in the case with the 1000 hp Nissan GT-R, all four tires. 

There’s been no word on when, or if, another Cars and Coffee is planned. However, given the enthusiastic outpouring, I can’t imagine there not being at least one in 2015. Gentlemen, start your engines!

Showdown at Sunset

Reflecting back on the past four years of ownership with my Ion, it seems I’m fortunate enough to participate in one good street race every year (The last I chronicled was Burger Dash on 11/30/2012). And Lord knows, my odds are even worse at the casinos. But on this tiresome Thursday afternoon, as I trudged home with the other commuters I observe coming and going every day, fate saw fit to intervene.

I turned off the four-lane asphalt artery that connects Hurley to Lucedale to take a rural shortcut that shaves a couple miles off my total travel. As I rounded one of the first curves, I was shocked to see an orange Mustang performing a traffic-blocking three-point turn in the middle of the road. Had I been drinking, I might have blamed such a sight on the alcohol. Immediately, I slowed not knowing how long he planned on obstructing my passage, or even which way he intended to go. After a couple of ham-fisted maneuvers, the Mustang was pointed in the same direction I was going. And in an attempt to extricate himself as quickly as possible, the rear tires spun as one was on the pavement and the other off on the grassy shoulder. The rear driver tire left a long black streak while the rear passenger tire threw up chunks of vegetation and sediment like a 400 yard-drive from John Daly. 

Littered with trash and trailers that looked to be right out of an episode of “Hoarders”, the area I was in would never be classified as economically thriving, so I was surprised to see the Mustang’s dual tailpipes. Typically, for this depressed demographic the standard is strictly four-cylinders, and the realization that it was a V8 Mustang instantly quickened my pulse with anticipation. Now, I just needed to see if he was game for a backwoods Grand Prix. I’ve mentioned in past articles that the State Troopers patrol the highways with an ardent Al Qaeda-like fervor, so felonious velocities are best left to less visible routes such as the one I was on. Ironically, these poorly maintained country roads are much more dangerous for high speed travel but are the only viable avenue for avoiding radar-enforced revenue generation.

Now a couple car-lengths behind the Mustang, I was able to recognize it as a first-generation SN95 model. That is, it was after the 87-93 vintage I owned, but before Ford’s controversial “New Edge” styling theme of the ‘99 model. Doing the math in my head, I knew that Ford had dropped the venerable 302 for a smaller 4.6-liter V8. And assuming it  was stock, I had the Stang’s 215 hp covered, but even with Stage 3, I couldn’t touch the tractor-like 285 lb-ft of torque.

We approached my turn-off, and I was sure he would go straight as almost everyone who travels this road does. But to my delight, he turned and then I spotted an older truck in front of us. I was endeavoring to determine if the Mustang was on his own, or was trying valiantly to catch up to friends in the truck. I was worried that may be the case and as such there would be no race. However, a short straightaway opened up and he gunned it to pass the truck, so I had my answer. I hastily judged the room I had to pass before the looming curve and went after him. The speed limit on the twisty back road was 45 mph, but I found that third gear (with a spread between 65-95 mph) was perfect. I’d never had a race in this area before and it was a wonderful opportunity to explore the acceleration, braking, and handling capabilities of my car.

At Christmas, when I had my left front tire off to change the transmission fluid, I noticed the factory rotor was developing a lip on it and needed to be replaced soon. I had received my new Akebono brake pads (the same as on the new $1 Million-dollar McLaren P1), but was still waiting on the cross-drilled rotors, so I didn’t want to push my brakes too hard. Yet even with that conservative approach in mind, it was evident that the Mustang was having to brake extremely early for curves while I could close the gap and brake a lot later. And while the Ford’s 17-inch tires were blessed with a slightly larger contact patch (245/45 versus my 215/45) it was also cursed with an extra 500 lbs of mass, much of it over the front wheels. 

A longer straightaway appeared and I could see the GT already accelerating, trying to maximize its head start. Alas, it wasn’t enough as I floored the throttle—and with seemingly elastic performance—reeled him in like a trophy bass. But the Mustang was conspicuously quiet, even under wide open-throttle, enough that it validated my earlier assessment of it being stock right down to the mufflers. At this point, I didn’t know what was more startling...that I was witnessing a Mustang GT devoid of the famous Flowmaster exhaust everyone and their cousin installs, or that it was the color of Tang, that awful powered beverage Astronauts drank in the 1970s. 

Like an automotive cat-and-mouse, we carried this pace up for another mile as he would squirm away and then a squeeze of my throttle would pull him back in. As mentioned in my initial ownership report (May 2010), the Red Line was GM’s first sport compact to benefit from high-speed development on Germany’s 14-mile-plus Nordschleife circuit that consists of 33 left turns, 40 right turns and 170 bends. And late last year, I installed the upgraded front and rear transmission mounts from the 2010 Cobalt SS Turbo. They were worth every penny here as despite the fast sweepers, the chassis stayed as smooth and flat as Nebraska. Conversely, given the way the Mustang was bobbing up and down on its springs like a dinghy in a hurricane, the Ford driver was not so fortunate. But then, he flipped on his blinker and took a fork in the road that led him away from my path home. I’m sure he had no idea what car was pursuing him; he probably thought it was a Lexus or some similar high-dollar import. Nevertheless, he found out the hard way that eight-cylinders don’t always beat four.

Once home, I googled the pumpkin pony I had dueled with and discovered some interesting facts: For starters, the paint is officially know as “Bright Tangerine” and only 829 Mustang GTs were sprayed that color in 1996. Such low production volume explains why I have never seen one that shade before, but after nearly twenty summers there was nothing “bright” about it. In fact, I would go so far as to describe it more along the lines of Sunset Orange, as the oxidation and fading had reduced the color to a dull luster. Let’s face it, that Mustang had probably not seen a can of car wax since it left the factory. And a test in Car and Driver of a similar ‘94 GT showed it galloping through the quarter in 14.9 seconds at 93 mph. Obviously, the Mustang would have fared better with my Ion when it was stock (14.7 @ 97 mph) but not by much--- at 130 mph, a stock 205 hp Ion would be almost ten seconds ahead (35.9 to 44.7). There’s a similar gap under hard braking too, as my Saturn stops from 70 mph in 162 feet as opposed to 179 for the Ford. With those numbers in hand, it’s obvious he never stood a chance against my 300 hp Saturn. 

Regardless, the impromptu race injected a fair bit of excitement into an otherwise dreary winter evening, even if it did blow my fuel economy for the week!