Taking a Nap with Natalie Portman: Breaking in our Long-Term Nissan GT-R
Should you be fortunate enough to be passed by a Lamborghini Aventador at speed, the exhaust note alone will practically shake the ground, though that may just be the shiver it sends down your spine. The Ferrari 458 was the only one of our 2011 Best Driver’s Car participants to send harmonic proof of its existence to the pits, regardless of what turn it was devouring at Mazda Raceway Laguna Seca. Seeing an Audi R8 5.2 launch from a standstill defies all preconceived notions of what 3900 pounds of metal can look like when not moving, then moving very, very quickly. From behind the lens at Motor Trend, I’ve been blessed with the opportunity to photograph some of the most magnificent machines in existence. But more often than not, our busy schedules and all-too-brief time with the cars usually only allows me time to admire them through my viewfinder whilst the writer-types reap the bulk of the seat time. Imagine my delight then when new boss man Ed(itor-in-Chief) Loh texted me on a lazy Super Bowl Sunday afternoon, “u want gtr?”
Ed was talking about our so-new-it’s-still-practically-hermetically-sealed long-term 2013 Nissan GT-R, and yes, I did want it. The timing could not have been better. I care as much about the Super Bowl as much as HBO cares about horses, and since I’m mostly alone in that sentiment, the roads would practically be empty. Just me, the road, and the car that reigns supreme in the eyes of the PlayStation Generation from which I hail. This all seemed a little too good to be true, and something called a break-in period proved that it was.
Our Pearl White GT-R Black Edition was still a long way from the 1200-mile odometer reading that dictates when it’s ready to be driven hard. The 368 miles on the clock were a digital stop sign that translated to: No rapid acceleration in gears 1-3, don’t go over 3500 RPM, no hard or unnecessary accelerating or cornering, and drive in Comfort mode for 900 more miles. So in the third-fastest-accelerating production car for sale to the general public, I couldn’t launch harder than I would in a Nissan Leaf. The old Nissan GT-R was capable of a Bugatti Veyron-besting, very God(zilla)-like 1.05 lateral g in our figure-eight testing, and I couldn’t take it past speeds that would conjure up more lateral g than falling out of a chair. In short, it would be like climbing into bed with Natalie Portman, only to find she is fast asleep and not to be disturbed. An awesome experience, sure, but so much for taking that ride I’ve really been longing for… in the car, I mean.
Verifying a Claim: Is the Mercedes-Benz S350 Really That Good?
When he drove the new-to-our-shores Mercedes-Benz S350 4Matic BlueTec (diesel), former bossman Angus MacKenzie seemed pretty bowled over. How far bowled over? He said this, “The 2012 Mercedes-Benz S350 4MATIC BlueTEC is the best long-distance cruiser money can buy in America. Period.” In this business, that’s what we call high praise. It’s not that I don’t trust my Aussie friend, but I decided to verify his claim for myself.
Now, I wager I’ve driven from Los Angeles to San Francisco and back around 300 times. About 250 of those times have taken place on Interstate 5, or I-5, or really the 5 as we say in Southern Californian. Again, I feel I’m more than familiar with this particular interstate. In college my band even wrote a (terrible) song about the drive, “Living our lives on the I-5. Too long to hitchhike, too short to fly. Straighter than the arrow that’s passing us bye, cause we’re living our lives on the I-5.” Shudder.
Point is, I can (and maybe have?) make that particular trip while sleeping. But could I do it without stopping for gas? Er, diesel? To find out, I asked Mercedes if I could borrow Mr. MacKenzie’s favorite long-distance luxo-yacht, the S350 4-Matic diesel. Now, I’m well aware of the fact that with a theoretical cruising range of 700+ miles, the big Benz could almost make it from Los Angeles to San Francisco and back without stopping (a test for another day, sadly, as this trip is one way), but could the car achieve such good mileage at real world speeds, i.e. above 80 mph?
There’s a gas station that pumps diesel 1.5 miles from Lieberman HQ. I filled the Dolomite Brown S-class up (by the way, best paint name ever?) and the trip computer told me I had a range of 408 miles. Enough to make it to San Francisco, but well within the range of cars like the Porsche Panamera S and maybe even a S550 or BMW 750i. Hmm. Not an auspicious start, range-wise. Why so low? Well, the previous day’s driving consisted of no freeways whatsoever. Instead, I just sort of creeped around Hollywood at 29 mph. Hey, it was Saturday night. I’m hoping the indicated range improves once I head out on the highway and stretch the big Benz’s legs.
Is the EcoBoost V-6 Just Right for the Ford F-150?
Ford has been rolling out EcoBoost engines for a couple of years now, to mixed reviews and effect. These engines feature gas direct injection and turbocharging, and it works pretty well in V-6 form. The four-cylinder EcoBoost remains a question mark, because it launched as a premium engine at extra cost in the otherwise V-6-powered Explorer. It could do wonders for the 2013 Fusion/Mondeo.
The new Explorer crossover/utility vehicle has been a huge success in the marketplace, and Ford says it has sold more than 100,000 of them so far, this year, 96,957 of them through the end of September. It has done something the Ford Flex, on the same platform, hasn’t been able to do – catch and pass the Chevrolet Traverse in sales numbers.
Like a summer movie theater blockbuster, the Explorer’s popularity flies in the face of its critical reception. Not so Ford’s best application to-date of EcoBoost technology to date.
The Ford F-150 EcoBoost is like one of any number of Clint Eastwood-directed movies from “The Unforgiven” on. It’s a wide-screen, bigger-than life epic earning critical acclaim usually saved for small independent and foreign movies. It’s big. Huge. Not the kind of vehicle I prefer to drive day-by-day, though for a full-size pickup, it drives smaller than it is.
I just spent a week with my first EcoBoost F-150, and I’m impressed. Mostly with the engine, because the truck is a carryover model. My ’11 F-150 Lariat had more than 10,000 miles on the clock, and had the kind of luxury appointments I’d expect from a Lincoln MKS.
If there’s any noticeable turbo lag, it’s very low in the rev range, with the boost only adding to the feeling that this a V-8 in all but cylinder count. Though I had no opportunity to tow or haul, unladen, the F-150 EcoBoost feels like it can do anything the 5.0-liter V-8 could do. It’s the last bullet in the chamber aimed at the old saw about how there’s no replacement for displacement.
Three Weeks, Three Very Different Audis
You don’t want a big car in London. This is an ancient city whose oldest streets were originally scaled for humans and horses, long before such things as urban planning and surveyors and city ordinances. London traffic can make even the most freeway hardened Angelenos weep: It once took me an hour to drive across the heart of the city, from the CAR Magazine office in Farringdon Lane, not far from St Paul’s Cathedral, to the Royal Albert Hall. Total distance? Four miles.
Parking in London? Fuggeddaboudit. Parking garages are small, expensive, and hard to find. Manhattan is a parking paradise by comparison.
Not surprisingly, small cars rule in central London. And London is changing the notion of what a small car can be. Small cars used to be considered basic transport. Some still are, but London is now swarming with small cars that are purposely styled to look cool and chic rather than cheerfully functional, and can be expensively optioned with luxury interior appointments, trick paint jobs and designer wheels. New Minis and Fiat 500s are all over the tony West End, and other automakers are rushing to join the upscale small car party. Waiting for me at Heathrow Airport as I got off the plane from LAX was one of the segment’s newer players: Audi’s A1.
The A1 is built on VW Group’s B-segment platform, which among other things underpins the Polo, Volkswagen’s rival to the Ford Fiesta. My tester had the “big block” 1.4-liter, 122hp TSFI gas engine (this engine also powers a lot of A3s and Golfs in Europe; base A1 engine is the 86hp 1.2-liter four), plus buttoned-down suspension and big wheels with meaty low-profile tires. “I think you’ll find it fun,” Juliet from the Audi UK Press Office had emailed. She should have seen my face when the valet handed me the keys.
Aventador: I’ll Never Forget My First Lambo
Writing about driving a supercar is like describing sex to a virgin. It’s easy to outline the basic mechanics of the act, but conveying the ecstatic essence of the experience is another matter. But that wasn’t my major concern as I settled into the hip-gripping driver’s seat of a white Lamborghini Aventador. I was feeling nervously virginal myself. It was my first time with a Lamborghini…
Sure, there had been other exotics. The Audi R8 V10 (Gallardo’s kissin’ cousin) made ’em stare in the hoity-toity south of France. The Lexus LFA — carbon-fiber bodied like the Aventador — was the car that introduced me to the Nürburgring a couple of years back. Only months ago I’d sampled the Ferrari FF, another thoroughbred Italian with a V-12 and all-wheel-drive, threading through the spectacular Dolomite mountains of northeast Italy. All cars worthy of respect, but none of them came with the intimidating aura of the newest Lamborghini. Was it simply that the Aventador has 691 horses and costs nearly $400,000? Or was it the latent aggression of the bodywork, origami-folded around its two-seats-and-engine-behind proportions? Or all of the above?
Lamborghini seems to want to make you believe the Aventador is some kind of four-wheeled weapon system. Why give the starter a red, flip-up safety cover unless pushing the button is dangerous? The V-12 lights like a match, with a bright flare of revs. Every moment it’s running, the all-new, dry-sump 6.5-liter V-12 is a vocal presence behind the driver’s right shoulder. This engine never whispers in your ear. Instead, it screams with satisfaction each time it’s stimulated.
Other Motor Trend writers have spent quality time with the Aventador. One had a nighttime, pre-launch date with a prototype at the Nardo proving ground in Italy’s deep south. Another spanked a production version round the Vallelunga circuit outside Rome, the venue for the car’s international launch. Me, I’m getting to spend a couple of afternoon hours on roads near the Lamborghini factory in Sant’Agata.
24 Hours in Los Angeles
Despite massive growth in markets like Moscow, Shanghai and Mumbai, Los Angeles is still the beating, vibrant heart of the car industry. Don’t believe me? Spend a day driving around L.A. and you will see a greater variety of vehicles within our 500 square miles than anywhere on planet earth. From lowriders to near-monster trucks to classic hot rods to modified pocket rockets to electric cars to several hundred thousand dollar pieces of rolling extravagance, we have it all. And that’s just our parking lot, never mind the 110 through Downtown or Pacific Coast Highway come Saturday afternoon or the original Cars and Coffee. And speaking of our lot…
I saw that we had a Smart ForTwo lined up for the week and no one had signed it out. Why not? After perhaps 100 yards I’d come to the conclusion that the Smart is perhaps the worst new car I’ve ever driven. Wait a second, why am I saying perhaps? It’s without question the worst. Oddly, that’s the same conclusion I came to three years ago when I first drove a ForTwo. Poor Smart. The ForTwo looks good, has great packaging, a roomy interior, enough power for such a tiny little guy and good enough handling. Yeah, the ride’s pretty rough, but it’s not a deal breaker. The transmission, however, is a brand breaker.
In case you’ve never A) driven a Smart B) talked to anyone that’s every driven a Smart C) read a review of a Smart, here’s what’s up. The U.S. spec ForTwo comes with exactly one transmission option and it’s lousy. It’s a five-speed clutchless, automated manual that feels as if it breaks every time it shifts. Let me repeat that: every time the transmission goes from gear to gear, you think the car is broken. Why? Because it takes over a second to change gears. Your foot is flat, you want to go forward, and nothing at all happens, save for you slowing down when you want to be speeding up. It’s miserable, pathetic, horrifying and (probably) worst of all, dangerous. Especially when you’re trying to dart into a traffic-hole and the transmission won’t let you.
The ForTwo is undeniably cute, however. Not cute enough to forgive the crap cogswapper, but pretty cute. So cute that even though I’m ready to jump out of the thing while it’s moving, several of my fellow Angelenos can’t take their eyes off it. Children wave, adults mostly stare, though some sneer. While not written down anywhere, everybody knows that in Los Angeles, the car that attracts the most attention wins. Especially if you adhere the Charlie Sheen/Lindsey Lohan philosophical mindset: there is no bad PR. Still, as I was leaving a parking structure in Downtown L.A., two homeless guys walked in front of the ForTwo. The one not pushing a shopping cart yelled, “Man, I wouldn’t be caught dead in that thing.” Ouch.
Aston Martin DBS: Your Ultimate Parking Ticket
The Aston Martin DBS does its best work at 5mph. Don’t get me wrong – the biggest, baddest Aston of them all is, apart from noisy tires and small gas tank, a fine gran turismo. It may not be the fastest or the most powerful of the breed – the Bentley Conti GT, that ground-based cruise missile in a Savile Row suit, destroys it in a straight line – but its 6.0-liter V-12 delivers its 510hp with a deliciously satiny snarl that thrills above 4000rpm, the steering and brakes are like precision tools, and the ride strikes the same artful balance between comfort and control you find in the very best Ferraris.
None of that matters when you pull up in front of a chi-chi hotel, restaurant, or night-spot in a DBS, however. What matters is the way the Aston’s raffish savoir faire has the valet parking guys jogging out to grab your door: Good evening and welcome sir; don’t worry we’ll just leave here, right out front.
You’d better bring your A-game if you want to impress the valet guys in L.A. After all, out here Mercedes-Benz is the Chevrolet of Orange County, Bentley is the Mercedes-Benz of Beverly Hills, and your pool guy’s wife probably drives a Lexus. In an era when every automaker would like you to believe it has a luxury brand, L.A. is the acid test. I mean, not even the guys manning the parking lot at a Lakers game believe for a moment that someone who starts a company, sells it, and starts another, would actually choose to drive a gussied-up European Honda Accord.
I can’t think of a BMW, Lexus or Jaguar that would make the grade in the L.A. valet wars. You might cut it with a Mercedes SLS, though you’d probably get trumped by an Audi R8 Spyder with the roof down. Ferraris and Lambos are always solid players, but not necessarily the sure bets you might think unless you’re in Enzo or Murcielago territory; if you roll up in a 430 or Gallardo coupe be prepared to be aced by the guys with the convertible versions. Porsche? Forget it, unless you’re in a Carrera GT.
Bentley Continental GTs are so common in Beverly Hills no one gives them a second glance, and as you can rent one from at least half a dozen places within a few miles of Rodeo Drive, there’s a fair chance you’re not really the player the badge says you are. Even Rolls-Royce Phantoms are a bit passé now the Beverly Wilshire Hotel has one as its house car. If you want to roll in a Roller, a Phantom Drop Head Coupe is the only way to travel, even though Bijan’s chrome yellow one is a frequent fixture outside his Rodeo Drive store.
Pure Brilliance: A Quick Spin in the Ford Focus RS
There are cars that take hours or even days to discover their true personality, and there are those that give it all away in the first five minutes. The Ford Focus RS is of the latter persuasion, showing its pure, unbridled brilliance with the first firm application of the throttle and angry twist of the steering wheel. I had a chance to get behind the wheel of the RS recently during a trip to check out Ford’s new C-Max vehicles, and it was worth every minute at the helm.
The wizards at Ford of Europe have exorcised almost all traces of torque steer to the point that the uninitiated could easily mistake it for an all-wheel drive car despite the boosted 2.5-liter I-5 that puts down 305 horsepower and 325 pound-feet of torque. Mini and Mazda should perform some industrial espionage and come up with their own variant of the RS’ RevoKnuckle suspension for JCW Coopers and the Speed3, respectively.
All inputs of the Focus RS respond almost telepathically, as if they’re wired into the driver’s spinal column. Think Mechwarrior battle mech if you’re geeky enough to know what that is. The Recaro seats hold you in place as good as any seat can without the use of a five-point harness. Simply put, this is a stunning driver’s car that, with a good hand behind the wheel, could easily leave more expensive, more powerful, and more exotic cars in its rear-view mirror.
