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smoothshift · 5 years

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I've been getting shitty fuel economy, so I tried driving 55 mph everywhere. via /r/cars

I've been getting shitty fuel economy, so I tried driving 55 mph everywhere.

So last year, I bought a Ford Focus ST. Great car, I love it, but the fuel economy kind of sucks. I was coming from a 2016 Malibu, and was aware the extra horsepower and premium fuel requirement would mean I'd be spending more on gas. All in all, I figured the difference between the vehicles would amount to maybe ten bucks a week. A relatively small price to have my (attainable) dream car. After six months of ownership, I can safely say my calculations were off. Waaay off.

Due to my mostly highway commute, I anticipated getting somewhere in the mid to upper twenty mile per gallon range. Nope. First month, I achieved just over twenty-one. That led me to spend the subsequent month granny shifting and coasting as much as possible. After two weeks of blue-balling my car with this tactic, I calculated my fuel economy improved by a mere three additional miles per gallon. At that point, I was spending roughly $75 more on gas each month than I with my Malibu. I did the math; that is enough to buy approximately seventy-five $1 scratch-off tickets.

In analyzing my driving habits, I came to the conclusion that it was actually my time on the highway that was killing average mpg. Apparently the Focus ST has a relatively short sixth gear. I typically drive about ninety or so on the highway (unless I'm passing someone), which means my engine is spinning at around 3500-4000 rpm. I don't know much about the EPA, other than the fact that rearranging their letters spells out "AEP," but I imagine their fuel consumption findings are achieved at somewhat lower speeds.

And so it was that I adopted a radical new approach to extending each tank of premium unleaded: I would simply drive fifty-five miles per hour. I would achieve that velocity only as quickly as was necessary. But once there, I would keep my speed constant, no matter how many people I pissed off.

I lasted just one day. Here's how it went.

The first part of my commute is a state highway, which I live directly beside. Conveniently enough, its speed limit is fifty-five. At that rate, I was doing about five to ten miles per hour under what most of my fellow rush hour commuters wanted to travel. Occasionally, I caught a glimpse of an exasperated driver in my rearview mirror, but my self-imposed speed was generally met with acceptance.

An interstate highway makes up the next - and largest - bit of my commute. For most of the way, it is sixty-five miles per hour. Obviously, nearly everyone travels much faster. Usually around eighty. Never is this more apparent than when one sits in the center lane while going ten under the limit, as I did. Most of the cars on that stretch of highway belong to state workers. During the high volume drive times is when they are at their most aggressive. Even more so than during holiday sales, karaoke tournaments, or when standing in the express line at Shop-Rite and the person in front of them is two items over the limit. Needless to say, instances of extended middle fingers zooming past me in late-model crossovers were a common sight. Still, I persisted.

Just before arriving to work, I drive along a wide avenue within the city limits. It has a thirty mile per hour limit and consists of two lanes of travel in either direction, with the occasional right or left turning lanes, used for negotiating intersections or entrances to shopping plazas. Rush hour traffic being what it is, people on this stretch typically move at or slightly below the speed limit. As the turning lanes are generally less congested, I decided they were my best chance of reaching fifty-five miles per hour. Not going to lie, this pissed off a lot of folks. Especially those coming in the opposite direction. You see, there were times when the only open passing lane was on the opposite side of the avenue. As a result, I was left with no choice but to cross the median and hold faith that my aftermarket high beams and their four thousand lumens would give oncoming traffic ample warning to remove themselves from my path. I definitely got the stink eye from more than a few motorists, but I expected as much when I set out on this journey. At least I didn't have to mount a sidewalk in order to maintain speed.

After work, I like to unwind with one or two pitchers of beer before heading home. More often than not, the aforementioned bar stop provides me with the strength I need to go home and listen to my wife complain about her day. Her typical grievances run the gamut from holiday sales to karaoke tournaments to standing in the express line at Shop-Rite and the person in front of them is two items over the limit. On the day of my experiment, however, I needed that strength to face the other woman in my life: my grandmother. It is important that I maintain a positive relationship with the old girl. Apparently, my mother died while my grandmother was giving birth do her, which left me as her last living relative. That alone should have cemented my inheritance into cement. Still, if I don't put in regular appearances at the swanky golf cart community she now calls home, she'll start talking about how all her money and jewels will go to the Committee to Re-elect Walter Mondale after she passes. I don't have the heart to tell her that Mondale isn't on the ticket this year. In fact, he was never elected in the first place. Also, he's dead.

To get to get to the golf cart community where my grandmother resides, I not only have to contend with the wide avenue mentioned in the previous section, but a school zone as well. The speed limit there is fifteen, and people generally observe it quite closely for some reason. As such, I was forced to mount a sidewalk near the school so as to maintain a steady fifty-five miles per hour. Fortunately, at the time I was passing through, the bulk of the student body had already left the school grounds. Only a few remained, most likely those having just completed detention or chess club. Despite being a pudgy, flat-footed lot - seemingly more interested in their phones than with pedestrian safety - they proved quite adept at diving for the cover as I sped down the sidewalk towards them. Perhaps there is hope for millennials after all?

After arriving at the golf cart community was where the most challenging part of my experiment took place. The only way to navigate it was by using various paved cart paths which snaked from building to building. These paths were rather narrow, as if designed so that only small, golf cart sized vehicles could fit. Making matters worse, the paths had numerous sudden and sharp turns semenly better suited for speeds much lower than my fifty-five. Because of this, I ended up taking a turn a little too wide. That was right about where my experiment concluded. It turns out, the Pirelli P Zero Nero all-season tires on my Focus ST are not suitable for driving on landscaped surfaces. As a result, I was unable to avoid missing that pool. On a side note, Ford did not make the Focus ST seaworthy. Also, the so-called "no-fault" insurance in my state apparently doesn't apply to criminal trespassing and reckless endangerment. That point would prove to be moot, however, as I am currently uninsured (can't afford it with the fuel economy I'm getting lol).

At the end of the day, I have mixed feelings about the whole thing. When I set out on my quest to maximize fuel economy, I knew it would ruffle a few feathers. I also ended up broke, sopping wet, and arrested. But that's always been the case with pioneers. I never heard Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. or Steve Shubin complain, and neither will I. But even though I no longer have a drivers license and my Focus ST had "flood damage" reported to Carfax, I can say it felt really good to saving the environment, with the added bonus of taking a bite out of Big Oil in the process. Thanks for reading.

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robertkstone · 6 years

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2018 McLaren 720S First Test: The New Normal is Nuts

Back when I was a lad walking to school uphill in the snow both ways, cars knew their place. A sedan is what you drove to work because life was dull, a sports car was a silly, useless little thing, an SUV had solid axles (and not much else), a supercar was little more than bedroom wall fodder, and the term “hypercar” was just a glimmer in some marketer’s eye. These days? Fuhgeddaboudit. Bentley’s got an SUV with 77 acres of leather, two forests worth of wood paneling, a $250,000 clock, and the ability to travel at 190 mph. We just tested a sedan—the sinister Mercedes-AMG E63 S 4Matic+—that not only runs 11.2 in the quarter mile but also comes complete with a perfume dispenser. Not joking. Now we’ve got the McLaren 720S: a run-of-the-mill supercar by the look of the spec sheet but one that behaves just like hypercar. What’s the world coming to?

Let’s enjoy a quick look at said spec sheet together, shall we? Behind the carbon-fiber passenger cell (called Monocage II) sits a 4.0-liter twin-turbo V-8, a slightly bigger version of the 3.8-liter TT V-8 that’s been in every McLaren since the MP4-12C. Said engine is good for 711 horsepower and 568 lb-ft of torque. Moreover, peak torque comes way up in the rev range, between 5,500 and 6,500 rpm, whereas peak power hits a fraction of a second later at 7,000 rpm. Oompa oompa! The suspension is a further evolution of McLaren’s hydraulic setup, only now there is much more communication between the variable dampers and the car’s brain via accelerometers and other fancy gizmos. Most important, and largely due to that carbon-fiber tub, the 720S is light, clocking in at just 3,167 pounds. To give you some idea just how light that is these days, the similarly purposed 661-hp Ferrari 488 GTB compresses our scales with 3,412 pounds. The Lamborghini Huracán? It’s at 3,419 pounds for the Euro-spec version. Always remember that raw power is one thing, but power to weight is everything else. Meaning we knew going in that the newest McLaren would be quick. But friends, Romans, countrymen … not this quick!

The 720S is tied for the third-quickest car we’ve tested to 60 mph. Famously, the quickest production car Motor Trend has run—the Tesla P100D Ludicrous Plus—gets it done in 2.3 seconds. The next quickest are both hybrid hypercars, the 887-hp Porsche 918 Spyder and the 950-hp Ferrari LaFerrari, tied at 2.4 seconds, though the Ferrari’s time is suspect. (We tested that car in Italy on the straight of Ferrari’s Fiorano test circuit, which runs slightly downhill.) The 720S is actually tied with the current Porsche 911 Turbo S at 2.5 seconds, a car with less power but all-wheel-drive grip. The 740-hp Lamborghini Aventador Superveloce takes 2.6 seconds to hit 60 mph. For what it’s worth, the 720S can hit 100 mph in 7.4 seconds and do 0–100–0 mph in 8.8 seconds. Absurd.

The McLaren’s quarter-mile result is likewise near chart-topping. The quickest we’ve ever seen is the LaFerrari with a 9.7-second run at 148.5 mph. Therefore, the quickest nonasterisked quarter-mile time in our books is the 904-horsepower McLaren P1, which hits it in 9.8 seconds at 148.9 mph. Next comes the 918 Spyder with a time of 10.0 seconds at 145.2 mph. After that is—you guessed it—the 720S, ripping down the quarter mile in 10.1 seconds at 141.5 mph, making it the quickest purely gasoline-powered car we’ve ever tested. To further emphasize just how quick this blue McLaren is, the 987-hp Bugatti Veyron ran the quarter mile in 10.4 seconds at 139.9 mph. So yes, the 720S is quicker than a Veyron. Gulp.

Braking is the only test metric where the 720S isn’t at the top of our charts. It’s still world-class, stopping from 60 mph in just 93 feet, which puts it in a five-way tie for sixth place. The current king is the Dodge Viper ACR, which goes 60–0 mph in just 87 feet. Take solace in the fact that the McLaren 720S is among only a handful of elite brakers shod in non-R-compound rubber. Had McLaren remembered to ship over some Pirelli Trofeo R’s, I’m sure all the numbers—not just braking—would be different. More on this later.

The 720S is one of three production cars to ever average higher than 1.0 g around our figure-eight course, the other two being the Corvette Z06 Z07 (1.06 g) and the Porsche 918 Spyder (1.06 g). The 720S averaged 1.05 g, the second-best of all time. The McLaren’s max lateral acceleration is 1.09 g, among the best-gripping cars we’ve ever tested. Its figure-eight time of 22.3 seconds places it in a four-way tie for second place, along with the aforementioned Z06 and Viper ACR plus the Corvette Grand Sport. Best ever? That freak, the 918 Spyder, which managed a 22.2-second lap. Are we impressed with the McLaren 720S yet?

After testing, associate editor Scott Evans ran the 720S up and over the legendary Angeles Crest Highway, all 63 miles of it, before heading north to Rosamond, California, home of Willow Springs International Raceway. Randy Pobst would lap the 720S there the following day. Scott was kind enough to write down his driving impressions. Here are some excerpts, with the profanity edited out:

“Life begins at 70 mph. Stuff gets real at 100 mph. The holy stuffing happens in the middle of third. When fourth hits, the world outside blurs. You almost get tunnel vision; it’s like a sci-fi warp effect the scenery blurs so quickly.”

“This car brings the braking point to you. It accelerates so quickly and you’re traveling so fast that it’s almost as if you’re pulling the road ahead to the car rather than vice versa. My advice to anyone caning this car on a back road: brake early. You’re traveling so fast.”

“The brakes are perfect. The steering is wonderful. The handling is too good for public roads. You never reach the end of it. There’s no limit for the sane. You’d have to have a death wish to find this car’s limits on Angeles Crest. Just when you think you’re there, you turn the wheel a little more, and somehow there’s more grip. Maybe the chassis finds it. Maybe the computers do. It doesn’t matter. It’s there.”

“Even in Los Angeles, even by supercar standards, the Paris Blue 720S turns a lot of heads. I don’t think even the Aventador SV got this much attention, especially from those who aren’t car people.”

I concur with Scott, especially about the acceleration. I’d go so far as to use the word “terrifying,” but in a good way. That last 20 percent of the 4.0-liter twin-turbo V-8, when it’s on full boil and all the power peaks begin happening, fills you with a kind of dread. You begin to doubt your own reflexes, your own abilities. “Cars shouldn’t be this quick,” you tell yourself just prior to pulling the paddle for the next gear. “I hope I make it.” Luckily, like Scott said, the brakes are perfect, and the front end really doesn’t run out of grip. And like I said, it’s the good kind of terror.

A couple of numbers for you before we get to the McLaren’s laps. A Corvette Z06 ran around Big Willow in 1:25.00. The ultra-light (2,993 pounds) McLaren 675LT managed 1:24.29, and the Porsche 918 Spyder turned in a fast lap of 1:23.54. As for the 720S, remember, we’re talking about a car on street tires. McLaren really did forget to send us a set of optional Trofeo R’s. I should also point out that after his first two warm-up laps, Randy complained that the engine was “pulling power” at high rpms. Even still, the McLaren 720S broke the 918 Spyder’s previous record on lap two with a time of 1:23.31. Let me restate that: It beat a near million-dollar hypercar on the warm-up lap!

We looked at the GPS data traces, and sure enough on both of Big Willow’s long straights, the McLaren’s acceleration suddenly tapered off. The McLaren engineer on hand theorized that because the engine is meant to run 98 octane (the U.K. equivalent of our 93 octane) to prevent knock, the engine was retarding the timing, aka pulling power. Solution: We splashed in five gallons of 101 octane in an attempt to get the engine working properly. That did the trick.

Fastest Production Car Lap Times at Big Willow 2018 McLaren 720S 1:21.75 sec 2018 Lamborghini Huracán Performante (Euro-spec) 1:22.53 sec 2015 Porsche 918 Spyder 1:23.54 sec 2017 Ford GT 1:23.69 sec 2017 Porsche 911 Turbo S 1:24.26 sec 2016 McLaren 675LT 1:24.29 sec 2015 Chevrolet Corvette Z06 (Z07, 6M) 1:25.00 sec 2014 Lamborghini Huracán LP 610-4 1:25.17 sec 2016 Lamborghini Aventador LP 750-4 Superveloce 1:25.42 sec 2015 Nissan GT-R NISMO 1:25.70 sec 2015 Chevrolet Corvette Z06 (Z07, 8A) 1:25.76 sec 2015 McLaren 650S Spyder 1:25.88 sec

Now before you start firing off the angry “McLaren cheated!” emails, please note that the Nissan GT-R also refuses to run properly on 91 octane, and for years Nissan has been supplying us GT-Rs with a case of octane booster in the trunk. If you look at a modern Porsche’s owners’ manual, it states that performance is reduced on 91 octane and that full performance is only available with 93. That’s just how (some) cars are. I’d also like to point out that nearly ever racetrack sells race fuel on site and that $100 worth of the good stuff isn’t an impediment to people who buy cars with $288,845 (base) price tags. Moreover, if Willow Springs were located in practically any other state, the Chevron would have been pumping 93 octane, not 91. Were we scientific with the fuel mixture? In other words, did the five gallons of 101 result in a perfect 93 octane rating? No. The mixture might have even been 94 or 95. Could have also been 92.5. We were in the heat of the moment and just trying to make the car run properly. If you’re still upset, then go ahead think of 1:23.31 as the fast lap, and take solace in the fact that the McLaren 720S beat the Porsche 918 Spyder on street tires, with a misfiring engine, during Randy’s warm-up laps. What a beast.

For the rest of us, Randy eventually managed a 1:21.75, besting the 918 Spyder by 1.79 seconds. Can you imagine what the 720S would have done with R-compound rubber? We can, which is why we’ve asked McLaren to let us have the car back sometime in the not-too-distant future with the Trofeo R’s that they left in Woking. McLaren for i from PerformanceJunk WP Feed 3 http://ift.tt/2BG7z5R via IFTTT

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jonathanbelloblog · 7 years

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Classic Drive: 1988 Lamborghini Countach 5000 QV

High school sucked. So, was there a better way to arrive at my 30-year-reunion than in a 1988 Lamborghini Countach 5000 QV? Didn’t think so. Southern California restaurateur David Houston was gracious enough to lend me his ’80s icon, so I, the semi-known weirdo girl whose best friend went to another school, finally had a reasonable shot at being cool!

The Lamborghini Countach, originally designed by Marcello Gandini while at Bertone ( who was also the youthful genius behind the Miura and Espada), first made brains fry at the Geneva motor show in 1971 and went into production in 1974. From the scissor doors, to the wedge-shaped front end, to the geometrically impossible greenhouse, the Countach is a rolling study in impracticality. But its bravado is also the source of its instant appeal.

Countach is a fairly profane expression in the Piedmontese dialect, though Google will politely tell you it means “wow” and, for the sake of propriety, I will only say, “Holy countach, I’m driving a Countach!”

Nuccio Bertone allegedly used the expression when he first saw Gandini’s car. If I’d ever gotten near this car as a 17-year-old in my rad slip-on Vans, I’d have said the same thing. Hell, I said it as a 40-something that wears rad Vans slip-ons when Houston first came around the corner. The name stuck.

After falling into the slipperiest leather ever to cover a driver’s seat, my photographer jammed a backpack full of camera gear behind me, because while the seat moves forward, it doesn’t stay there.

Driving this bull requires leverage. The Countach might have a clutch heavier than a WWII Sherman tank, and this one in particular isn’t quite right.

“It’s been slipping since I left Pacific Palisades,” Houston informed me after surrendering the driver’s seat. He drove the car for 21 nervy miles from his coastal home to Burbank’s John Burroughs High School, from which I couldn’t graduate fast enough in 1987.

Awesome, a wonky clutch that feels like it weighs 300 pounds.

“Hopefully it will make it to your reunion,” he says through a smile. I’m only driving it the equivalent of 24 laps around the football field where I quit the track team because running was too damn hard. “Fixing the clutch will probably cost me about $20,000. So, I’m holding off for now.”

Houston’s opinion of his rosso space ship with gold wheels is as unabashed as the classic itself.

“This is technically the first and only supercar ever made,” he says.

His claim starts with the longitudinally mounted V-12, an innovation copied by many subsequent mid-engine supercar architects. It extends to the aluminum body over a tubular-steel frame, mimicking technology used in racecar construction at the time. He also points to Gandini’s eye-exploding design, including elements such as the scissor doors, which on this particular example won’t stay open when parked on even the smallest of inclines. Oh, and it’s temperamental, another crucial supercar trait.

“Every car since is an imitator,” Houston asserts.

It doesn’t take long to understand why Houston couldn’t stop sweating when he first got out of this pointy razor of a sports car. The windows only open about three inches, and you dare not turn on the air conditioning.

“You’ll definitely overheat the engine,” he explains.

That afternoon was a merciful 80-degrees, instead of your garden variety, 90-degree-plus September day in Southern California. After five minutes I’m sweating, too, and shortly, my reunion dress was soaked through with sweat, not that I cared.

“If you stick your hand out the window and aim it just right,” he says, “you can get some fresh air into your left armpit.” Houston’s right; happy armpit, happy driver.

As my noodle arms heaved the steering wheel around a right turn, we went past storefronts unchanged since I cruised them in the ’77 Datsun B210 I drove in high school. Though truthfully, I couldn’t see them— or much of anything else, for that matter—given the Countach’s extremely limited visibility. Look behind you only if you think the b-pillars are attractive; otherwise, don’t bother.

From a dead stop, turning the tiny wheel was more like turning a locomotive valve from the 1800s than steering a 3,500-pound car. But get moving and the four-valve-per-cylinder Quattrovalvole V-12 moves this bull through San Fernando Valley traffic easier than a Ginsu knife through a beer can, mostly because everyone slows down and moves aside to look at it.

Advertised numbers 30 years ago have it making 420 horsepower, and revving to around 7,000 rpm. That may not sound like much by today’s 700- to 800-hp standards, but in its heyday, the Countach was a buzz saw with a tiny wheelbase of 96.5 inches. A lot of folks, Houston being one of them, believe the 5000 QV, 610 of which were built between 1985 and 1988, to be the best version of the Countach. When the engine turned over, every dog in Burbank started to bark. They seem to agree.

This isn’t the type of car generally seen in the quiet Southern California suburb made famous by Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show, which was filmed in its beautiful downtown. So when that riotous cacophony of an engine sound charged up Buena Vista Street, heads turned. Just in case you miss it with your eyes, the Countach wants to be sure you catch it with your ears. It won’t be ignored.

Changing out of my high heels into tennis shoes to drive was a great idea but not 100-percent necessary. The pedals are painfully close together for the average hairy-footed hobbit guy, but my petite feet fit fine.

“A lot of men have to drive without shoes on, so this was pretty much made for you,” Houston remarks. Damn straight.

“Don’t flip this switch,” Houston warns me, pointing at the wiper lever, as the rubber blade from the larger of two windshield wipers had somehow ripped off. “That part doesn’t actually exist anymore, so I have to get it special ordered, and that will cost probably a couple grand.”

The same holds true for the tires. The original Pirelli P7 rubber, 225/50ZR15 up front and 345/35ZR15 at rear, is long out of production, though there have been several special order re-issue runs. According to Countach-owner legend, when a set comes up, you have to snatch them up quick, because there are serious hoarders in the exclusive bunch. England was the closest place I could find a set to get a sense of cost. After the currency conversion, it appears the rubber bits would show up on the Centurion AMEX as a two-grand sneeze. Houston’s car wears the more modern Pirelli P-Zeros that are the closest equivalent.

To say the Countach offers a smooth ride would be a lie. This thing is rougher than losing your virginity in the back of a limo at homecoming—and that’s exactly the way you want it. Hey, it’s Italian. You expected something genteel?

There’s nothing smooth about the manual five-speed transmission, either. You don’t shift it so much as demand it submit to your will with brute strength. And Houston was right; the clutch was indeed an uncooperative SOB.

Lamborghini claims the top speed to be 183 mph, but the jacked-up clutch on Houston’s car dictated otherwise during this trip and I barely clocked in at 45 mph going up the final hill to my reunion. Still, I was driving a red Countach and couldn’t care less how slowly.

Despite my hair being ruined and my deodorant heavily tested, when I successfully arrived to the reunion at the DeBell Golf Course in the foothills of the Verdugo Mountains, I didn’t want to get out of the car. Thirty years ago, I didn’t really know those people with huge feathered hair that well, so I stayed for an hour, said hi to the few I did know, and left.

Turns out two guys got in a fight. It was high school all over again, just take away the lockers and add alcohol, money, and a middle-aged fear of insignificance. Burbank’s finest showed up, helicopter and all, to break it up. Guess I wasn’t the only one to arrive in style.

Best-laid-plans notwithstanding, only about three people saw this weirdo girl roll up in the Lamborghini Countach 5000 QV, so driving it did zero for my cred with the populars. Yet, I swear I’ve never felt cooler in my life.

1988 Lamborghini Countach 5000 QV Specifications

ON SALE Now EXPECT TO PAY $460,000 (Hagerty insurance average value) ENGINE 5.2 DOHC 48-valve V-12/420 hp, 369 lb-ft TRANSMISSION 5-speed manual LAYOUT 2-door, 2-passenger, mid-engine, RWD coupe EPA MILEAGE 6/10 mpg (city/highway) L x W x H 165.4 x 78.7 x 42.1 in WHEELBASE 96.5 in WEIGHT 3,500 lb (est) 0-60 MPH 4.2 sec (MT, 1990 test) TOP SPEED 183 mph (est)

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jesusvasser · 7 years

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Classic Drive: 1988 Lamborghini Countach 5000 QV

Driving this bull requires leverage. The Countach might have a clutch heavier than a WWII Sherman tank, and this one in particular isn’t quite right.

Awesome, a wonky clutch that feels like it weighs 300 pounds.

Houston’s opinion of his rosso space ship with gold wheels is as unabashed as the classic itself.

“This is technically the first and only supercar ever made,” he says.

“Every car since is an imitator,” Houston asserts.

“You’ll definitely overheat the engine,” he explains.

“If you stick your hand out the window and aim it just right,” he says, “you can get some fresh air into your left armpit.” Houston’s right; happy armpit, happy driver.

“A lot of men have to drive without shoes on, so this was pretty much made for you,” Houston remarks. Damn straight.

1988 Lamborghini Countach 5000 QV Specifications

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eddiejpoplar · 7 years

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Classic Drive: 1988 Lamborghini Countach 5000 QV

Driving this bull requires leverage. The Countach might have a clutch heavier than a WWII Sherman tank, and this one in particular isn’t quite right.

Awesome, a wonky clutch that feels like it weighs 300 pounds.

Houston’s opinion of his rosso space ship with gold wheels is as unabashed as the classic itself.

“This is technically the first and only supercar ever made,” he says.

“Every car since is an imitator,” Houston asserts.

“You’ll definitely overheat the engine,” he explains.

“If you stick your hand out the window and aim it just right,” he says, “you can get some fresh air into your left armpit.” Houston’s right; happy armpit, happy driver.

“A lot of men have to drive without shoes on, so this was pretty much made for you,” Houston remarks. Damn straight.

1988 Lamborghini Countach 5000 QV Specifications

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robertkstone · 6 years

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2017 BMW 230i First Test Review: Back to the Future

In the early ’80s, I rode to school with an older kid in his 1973 BMW 2002. “Natch,” it was Inka orange. We lived in a hilly neighborhood where there were no straight roads, and he knew them all. I was amazed at the pace in the twists and turns that the little European car with about 100 horsepower could achieve. Body roll? Plenty, but it also had grip (Pirelli P5000 tires?), and with each corner dispatched, there was a certainty of outcome. The thing that stood out to me then was that this nonmuscle car (perennial high school faves) could do things those couldn’t—namely stick to the road like the lines painted on it. At the time, I did not know cars could do that. Hence, the rewards of “driving a slow car fast rather than driving a fast car slow” remain to this day.

2002 Reincarnated?

When BMW replaced the frumpy 1 Series in 2014 with the sleeker, more elegant 2, many thought BMW missed an opportunity to resurrect the “2002” model line—literally call it the “2002 Turbo” or something similar. Not just for gratuitous nostalgia, but because there’s a genuine lineage here. Like my friend’s ’73 2002, this front-engine, rear-drive two-door four-passenger 230i has a 2.0-liter four-cylinder engine (now turbocharged), a manual transmission (now a six-speed rather than four) and orange paint (now Valencia orange). With more than double the horsepower of the 2002, certainly the 2017 230i is a rocket in comparison. Yet it goes around corners with the same tidy poise and predictability.

The last time we tested a 2 Series was the year it replaced the 1 Series. It’s interesting that when news editor Alex Nishimoto wrote about the then-new 2014 BMW 228i equipped with the optional M Sport package, he also pined for a 2002. “The bottom line is that the 2 Series is a huge win for BMW enthusiasts everywhere, and even if it isn’t the reborn 2002 that BMW’s marketing campaign says it is [and still does], it still marks a return to form for the roundel brand,” he said. We might disagree on the through line, but we agree that the 2 Series hits all the historical brand values when most of its other Series no longer do.

What’s new with 2?

The reason we’ve not tested a 2 Series (four-cylinder turbo or six-cylinder turbo) since is because not much has changed in the three years hence. Besides all-wheel drive for both 228i and M235i variants added, the (ZTR) Track Handling package was also added to the 228i in 2015. In addition to a shuffling of standard and optional equipment, a convertible was added in 2016. Our 2017 230i car has the ZTR option, too, and as it did then it now replaces: standard suspension with adaptive M Suspension (springs and adjustable dampers lower it by 10 millimeters), standard vented discs and single-piston calipers with M Sport Brakes (larger front discs with two-piston calipers), all-season run-flat tires on 17-inch wheels with Michelin Pilot Super Sport tires on 18-in wheels, and a variable-ratio steering rack replaces a traditional one. It’s a $2,300 stand-alone option that truly enhances the car’s performance and driving experience.

For 2017, two new engines made their debuts that necessitated a model name change, dropping 28i and 35i for 230i and M240i. In this case, the 230i’s new 2.0-liter turbo discreetly increases the output from 240 hp at 5,000 rpm to 248 hp at 5,200 rpm and torque from 255 to 258 lb-ft at the same 1,450-4,800-rpm plateau. In spite of the modest bump in power, according to the EPA, fuel economy is essentially the same. However, our in-house EQUA Real MPG results show a vast improvement. For the six-speed manual 230i, government estimates are 21/32/25 city/highway/combined mpg where our real-world results showed 29/38/32 mpg, or between 19-36 percent better than the EPA’s results. Also, the smoothness of the new engine’s power delivery and the reignition after an auto stop/start are vastly improved over the outgoing engine. The direct fuel injectors still make it sound a little diesellike at idle if the windows are down.

Performance

At the dragstrip, we matched BMW’s 0-60-mph downright quick estimate of 5.8 seconds but fell short of beating our previous 5.0-second best in a 228i. Why? Despite having plenty of grunt to break the 230i’s sticky Pilot Super Sports from their grip on the pavement, the 2014 228i coupe was no doubt aided by the optional eight-speed automatic that has closer ratios and also benefits from built-in launch control. It’s the same story in the quarter-mile test, where the 230i crossed the finish line at 14.4 seconds at 96.4 mph, or about a half-second and 2 mph behind the 228i. After blasting down the quarter mile a dozen or so times, associate road test editor Erick Ayapana felt that the manual shifter’s throws from gear to gear were unusually long for such a sporty car and likely added to the time deficit. He also noted that the 230i had maintained the 96- to 97-mph finish line speeds, which shows there’s ample engine/turbo cooling to maintain power even when pushed to the limit. His repeated stomps on the firm brake pedal from 60 mph resulted in consistently short 106-foot stops: “Great brakes, with no unwanted body motions or funny smells.” We found the brakes’ sublimit responses linear and easy to live with even in stop-and-go traffic.

In everyday driving, the 230i feels confident, plenty powerful, and as quick as the numbers suggest—the long-throw shifter, less of an objection. Even in Comfort mode, lag time between applying the throttle and the car responding is very slight and at such a low rpm that it goes largely unnoticed. The throttle also has a sharper response available in Sport and Sport+ modes. We also appreciated the ability to configure Sport mode: either Driveline and Chassis or just Driveline (with the chassis/dampers defaulting to Comfort). And although it is an effective fuel-saving mode, EcoPro really sucks the life out of the car by drastically reducing throttle response. In the same way BMWs once were exceptional with the ride/handling balancing act, so too is the 230i with its adjustable dampers. Even the firmest Sport+ mode is compliant and sure footed.

It’s worth mentioning that the 230i has automatic hill-hold brakes (about 2 seconds worth), and the manual transmission has an automatic rev-matching program that blips the throttle as the driver guides the shifter into a lower gear (even if skipping gears) to smooth the process. For less experienced drivers, these both also reduce lurching and clutch wear. If these simple features will help sustain interest in manual-transmission cars by making them easier for more people to live with, then we’re all for it. Be warned, those who find it rewarding to successfully dance on three pedals while downshifting—the only way to disable the match-rev feature is to disable stability control. Seems like it would be easy to make a check box in My Vehicle > Vehicle Settings menu to enable/disable this feature, no? Please, BMW, make is so.

Putting it all together

Our figure-eight test, sometimes called a racetrack in a bottle, combines acceleration, braking, and cornering; rise, and repeat. Here, the 230i outperformed the 228i by a sizeable margin, with a best lap of 25.1 seconds versus 25.8 seconds. What’s more is that the Track Handling Pack-equipped 230i gripped the skidpad with 0.95 g average lateral acceleration to the M Sport-equipped 228i’s 0.90 g best. The 228i was slightly faster in a sprint to 60 mph, but in combined performance, the automotive equivalent to competitive swimming’s “individual medley,” the 230i shows overall dynamic gains we can measure and a driver can feel.

Incidentally, it’s our practice that these figure-eight laps are completed with stability control disabled (when possible) so we can separate sound/lacking mechanical engineering from electronic “help.” Notes from the track indicated inherent goodness with all systems off. As with the outstanding BMW M2, the lesser 230i might be the closest thing to a traditional BMW that BMW currently builds. There’s a delicacy and adjustability and willingness to play in this car. It was powerful enough to attain 70 mph across the middle, and the M-spec brakes/tires did an excellent job of slowing the car for 40-ish-mph corner entry. The ability to trail-brake (blending slowing and turning) into the skidpad did not go unnoticed nor unappreciated. The fact that the pedals are properly placed for DIY heel-toe matched-rev downshifts is encouraging, too. I did, however, find myself rather busy with the steering. BMW’s notoriously inconsistent variable-ratio steering option that’s (unfortunately) baked into the Track Handling package is to blame. BMW, please make this a stand-alone option or change the rationale. The quicker ratio should be determined by increased steering angle and not decreased road speed. At any rate, exiting the skidpad, the car transitioned into a mild oversteer. That was entertaining because I could just stand on the throttle and easily ride it out with a “dab of oppo.” This is a fun, old-school BMW that actually reminded me of a 2002. We also tried a few laps in Sport+ mode with its “dynamic traction control” and stability control enabled (and thus the matched-rev feature). True, it was less taxing to manage the car with the safety net, but it was also slower and less revealing.

Value question

Were it ours to build and live with, starting with the $34,145 base price, we’d definitely opt for the $2,300 Track Handling package because it does nothing to reduce the ride comfort while truly enhancing performance. We might skip the aluminum interior trim ($350), Oyster Dakota leather ($1,450), and wireless charging ($500). However, nearly all of the other options on our test car’s considerable tally feel pretty vital to the enjoyment and livability of this particular 230i. Because heated front seats ($500 as a stand-alone option) are also marital aids, you might as well get the Cold Weather package ($700), which includes them plus a heated steering wheel and headlamp washers for an extra $200. They come standard on some economy cars, so it’s outrageous to pay extra for a rearview camera and parking sensors in the poorly named Driving Assistance package ($950) that should be called Parking Assistance, but we would. Coughing up $2,950 for a universal garage door opener, intelligent key with push button start, moonroof, power front seats with lumbar, ambient lighting, and satellite radio, all of which are contained in the Premium package, would be OK with us. Navigation for $1,950, Xenon headlamps for $900, and $875 for the Harman/Kardon audio upgrade seem fair, but $300 for Apple CarPlay doesn’t. All told, the car as it sits is $48,070. As we might configure it: $45,770. That’s still pretty big sticker for a fun and useful little car that reminds us of a BMW 2002. Interestingly, you could actually get a Concours-ready ’73 2002 for that money. Hmm. Decision time.

2017 BMW 230i BASE PRICE $34,145 PRICE AS TESTED $48,070 VEHICLE LAYOUT Front-engine, RWD, 4-pass, 2-door coupe IFTTT

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