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rollicovers · 3 years ago

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Tune sweeper crashes

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It offers a tuning dashboard to check your PC’s full health. It can even remove hidden junk files from the registry. The program can safely clean leftovers from Windows and over 200 popular applications.

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As ridiculous as it sounds, it was actually the first time this had happened in Destiny 2s history and led to the developers disabling (most likely, temporarily) in-game chat for all players in-game. Automated PC clean-ups and tune-ups after regular intervals. But what actually happened on during that. It appears that for the time being, Destiny 2 players are going to have limited options when it comes to communication, with developer Bungie having pulled the plug on text chat briefly because a game-breaking bug was present. With the first fatal crash of a Concorde since it first came into service, the confidence in the worlds only super sonic passenger jet was shattered. For the moment, text chat is gone, and given the timeline involved, it is not likely we will see any actual fixes until the Destiny 2 team returns to the office on Monday. Garda investigating after car crashes into hotel in Wexford.

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It remains unannounced as to when the developers will restore the in-game text chat once they patch things up, but the fact that commands like this are available for players is troubling to the rest of the Destiny 2 community. This started affecting PvP, especially in game: instead of posting the message in a larger chat, some nefarious Destiny Deviants decided to whisper a text string to their opponents, which caused the other players’ games to crash, ensuring themselves an easy win. shows a Ford Explorer overtaking a CHP highway sweeper truck, but clipping the front of it as it drives past. Some people on Destiny started sending their opponent’s secret messages while playing PvP, causing other players’ games to crash as the messages were too long. Footage of the incident (pictured) near California's Golden Gate Bridge at around 6 p.m. Tune Sweeper 4 harmonizes.We have temporarily disabled text chat on all platforms in Destiny 2 while we investigate an issue causing Weasel errors. Simple solution saves money on street sweeper repairs.

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Please see our FAQ article providing detailed of steps to help you if TouchCopy is not displaying your iPhone messages, Contacts, Calendars or Notes. From the Director: Changing driver behavior is key to reducing traffic fatalities and crashes. Automatically find and remove duplicates, discover and add tracks on. Automatically find and remove duplicates, discover and add tracks Tune Sweeper 4.14 Crack. Issues with loading iPhone messages, Contacts, Calendars or Notes in TouchCopy. More than just a duplicates finder, Tune Sweeper is your all-in-one Music cleaning App. Tune Sweeper 4.14 Crack is your all-in-one iTunes cleaning App. Tune Sweeper knows which tracks are based in the cloud and so can make an intelligent suggestion on which tracks to keep. Some of the officers managing the protesters sustained injuries from the crash. Remove the rest to your recycle bin at the click of a button. According to reports, an SUV crashed into a street sweeper truck in the area near an anti-vaccine rally. Automatically select which tracks to keep based on quality, last played or length. In fact, 47 percent of weather-related crashes happen in the rain and the annual cost of these crashes is estimated nationally between 22 billion (for only. supplied in new vehicles is tuned to the prime mover without the trailer, which when. Quickly find and remove duplicate tracks in iTunes. The crash reduction effects of fitting all heavy vehicles with.

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Mac Entertainment, TV, series and movies Tune Sweeper Mac 4.22 Tune Sweeper is a program with which you can remove duplicate tracks or locate songs that may be missing within in your music collection on iTunes. Automatically find and remove duplicates, discover. to jar, to grate upon the ear, be discordant or out of tune, to disagree. Tune Sweeper 4.14 Crack Pluse windows freeload Tune Sweeper 4.14 Crack Mac is your all-in-one iTunes cleaning App.

#Tune sweeper crashes

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order-progress · 5 years ago

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I used to have a really entitled outlook on life. In my mind though, I was entitled to my thought processes because it was where my mind existed in the place having had come from a once far more turbulent era. Back then I didn't question things that werent outwardly obvious. I didnt question the unremarkable identities of things that exhibited no distinctions amongst one another. Life was a stream of experience, and I just did the best of choices I decided to arrange, or really actually, more like shuffle choices into a messy pile and pat myself in the back cause I could squint at it my mismatched pile of non related events and not feel guilty for putting off routine, structure and goals.

I guess it isnt so surprising to anticipate that like all my other experiences, disicpline would present itself when and if I needed it to be summoned out of wherever creative and yet very hard to imagine location i would imagine it arriving at some future, ambiguous date, just in time to make no work look like fancier no work and with ribbons on it.

Something very common happened to me, something that is happinning right now all around the world, no matter how many days, or years after i first posted this here.

My boyfriend broke up with me.

I wore my entitlement pretty high that day, because somehow, despite there having been no carefully executed plan made on ky end--some masterpiece scheme of genius where one could really see there existed some reasonable and healthy attention to tackle to fucking problem.

Nope. My mother fucking entitled ass decided id actually be shocked. Not even fake shocked. Thats how you know you have lost touch with your surroundings, because big things happen in your wake..while your awake and yet somehow your stuck on who killed the butler in the library with the candle stick.

What makes this one of the most significant event despite its occurance being fairly common globaly, is that his presence had caused me to become more aware of more of the things I would have otherwise taken in stride, none of these events were remarkable on their own, but collectivelly, I had inadvertantly cleaned up my mindspace to find neatly organized clusters of thoughts no longer blending into the subconcious like 70's urban grafitti.

I didnt hold that moment to some disporportionately skewed sugar coating scale just to get ribbons on them after they were organized,I just acknowledged them, like a breath,where as before, they were simply obstacles or pit stops that would perpetuate the chronic attention deficit I had welcomed into my head. I like to think of ADD as the worlds most innefective street sweepers, they sweep alright, but they just make a bigger mess and then you got things in places they have no business being in.

I was in a place of low self worth because of an accumulated collection of short lived and half assed adventures, disastrous endeavers and the nefarious presence of something so obscured, so black and forboding, made me avoid certain places for simply not wanting to deal with the house keeping it wouldve required to mitigate its destructive intentions.

I kept myself busy to not force the acknowledgent that this would become a source of not only my insecuruties, but then in addition to its ever increasing interconnectedness, its complexity. Its chambers that hardened like a mystical kight of armor, whose drawers were full of destructive objects and thoughts that rattled in their confinement as a means of foreshadowing something so sinister, I could not then yet fathom the destrutive ways its icy talons would engulf and twist into my everyday life simply to create chaos, and it didnt register that this was a problem because amidst this battle royale of fragments and bits of poorly put together patterns, Francisco's presense was a light whose emimation lulled me into a complacecy I hadnt anticipated

It wasnt that in this period, that I conciously made a decision to disregard the growing issue, it was the novelty of being in a loving, beautiful and mature relationship with someone that as each day grew, so did my conviction that this person was becoming the brightest fixture in an ever cramped confined hallway of possibilities.

As I stood there aware of this moment, feeling a satisfaction and a gratitude I had never felt before, I realized that I had come so far on autopilot, it was a move that was almost instinctual, I rolled my sleeves up, put on the rocky theme song, got my gym bag ready, went and bought like every stupid unessecary stupid trinket shit people buy to feel like their getting a handle and a good start on some shit, but really it just becomes the infuriating bag of junk that is now the obstacle between you and the door handle to exit your car and actually start your project.

I felt a sense of urgency, I saw how unequipped I had been and while I was and it was this moment that taught me how much I loved him. I reckognized that somehow I was one of those fucking weirdos that jumped through those seedy ass short cut type scenarios in life to give you the same effect of the real thing in less the time, kind of like a GED vs high school diploma, or plan b instead of condoms.

I recognized that there was an innate element of unneccesary risk involved in many of my accomplishments. The risk was usually always a concious decision that I would accept a certain amount of totally unnecessary consequences that typically would define the life of those people who you catch specific glimpses of in mysterious times like dawn or dusk. And be like..yea i could totally see that guy having to figure out what to do with the llama he inherited as a result of some gamble.

This was no longer an acceptable risk. It wasnt that i thought it was dangerous or scare him away, its that I am not the kind of man that wakes up and sees the problems his factory has and finally knows how to fix it and then just be okay with going to bed and put it off.

This is where I get annoyed again. I knew that I wasnt capable of actively doing something against him, because we both agreed on things, and also neither of us was completely high as fucking kite on methamphetamines while operating a forklift to tune a paino yet.

I couldnt ever feel bad about atheletes who ugly cried after being disqualified for juicing to get an unfair advantage in the sports world.

Yet once again my overwhelming confidence, my lovable man mentality of "fuck a map or tools you got grit, spit and teeth". Prevailed.

Im mad because it was this moment right here. In a sea of me being happy to grow and learn and doing the rignt thing. I saw a place i overlooked, its presence was almost like a marker that there were many other areas i needed to work on, and i got sad.

I didnt feel good enough. I felt like a mess. I felt dissapointed at the pride in nothing I had taken so many times. I was finally proud of the changes i was making again, only to be reminded in a very real way of how I never had structure, never had a fail safe implemented effectively to instead of adopting either anxiety or no fucks about an event that could have been in my power to mitigate, i either didnt even notice I missed it, or didnt care.

As I started seeing the mountain of work I had to do, I wondered what it meant about how effectively i could handle other things moving forward, it was an irrational fear that I had that I would dissapoint him because I wanted us to be happy. But i am an artistic person, people who work with details to make a larger picture learn early on how to work details, and I never evaluated just how shoddy my altertanitive crash course was like getting PlAN B instead of putting a condom on.

I can handle pressure effectively. I can be okay with my decisions. What I cant do is open up a factory, see everything that was negelcted when I now know how to fix it, and then go to sleep like nothing bothered me.

I never in my life found myself in a place where i came face to face with old life and it made me feel sad or humilated. I felt like a fraud for just having gotten lucky that everytning worked out, while he worked hard.

I suddenly felt something I never experienced before, fear in love. The moment where you realize your not a piece of shit because you actually dont want to let someone down, the moment when you feel bad because you walked around in life with luck you didnt give a second thought to and passed it off as hard work. And here was this beautiful man, whose life was suffering and hard work, and you realized all of it at once, and there I was, eager fucking beaver captain america man of the house cause now i feel like a god damned engineer since i could assemble an ikea 3 piece wrench-back the fuck up motherfuckers.

I just felt humbled and i felt driven. I also felt the pressures rise up around me and I dont know why I couldnt look away from the sight of the realization of how id been. And its not like i did it all on purpose, but from that moment on, it was as if I had something to prove to myself that at that time I couldnt understand yet because I hadnt reflected yet. And as I was taking the scenic route on ways to "punish yourself is actually how we fucking motivate ourselves around here cus were fucking men" the bigger I created something inside me that wasnt ever there. And then as the places that I had been tendering to and growing in started to not be kept, pressure in my life at home happened. And for the first time in my entire life I was embarrassed at my life.

I remember the moment I felt it, my mom leaving me at work after I lost my car. I walked 2 miles in the cold because i was infuriated that I allowed another event I could have forseen to happen.

I never in my life reflected this intensley on my actions before. Having him in my life made me realize I had been holding myself to a higher standard because I am at my best when I when I am actively building towards something. I opened a place in me I never saw with those eyes and it hurt me. I tried to let him in, and to be honest, the insecurities of him seeing all that mortiified me..not because I would be seen as a slob or this or that, i was just dissapointed that I for a time during when I needed it the most in my early life, I wasnt necessarily taught healthy ways to do things. Mostly because I came to this country at 10, didnt know english, parents worked all the time until i was 16 and then dad got sick with brain cancer and we caught it after he had a seizure cause dad apperently loved moonlighting as my biggest fan when he would go reading my journal at night.

I didnt know how to explain it to francisco. I was feeling. New concept, i was feeling out of sync, i didnt understand why it hit me so hard. I was trying to look away and orient myself on the present.

I could have just dealt with that. But i suddenly felt raw and vulnerable. My boyfriend and I were getting into arguments because I just wanted us to be closer due to this need i didnt know how to vocalize about what I was going through, and he hesitated because he probably thought id leave him if i saw his dirty secrets.

That was the one thing he really never appreciated about my love. I just knew. If everything else was as evident ..like this feelings and where they came from and how to process them healthy while ...it just all got too much. I didnt know how to tell him what I needed. I just needed him.

I started to feel like i wasnt tethered to the focused areas I was so eager to work in. I just kept telling myself communication is key we will get through it.

Then I the drugs did something I didnt expect them to. They turned off this guilt and switch. They gave me the quiet to make them come down to a more manegeable place where I wasnt overwhelmed anymore.

Because I couldnt process this in words at the time, i didnt know how to express that to him. It led to me feeling guilty for not understanding why i enjoyed doing the drugs aside from the stimulant effect. When i tried to explain it to him, it was like trying to coin a cheesy motto for a doomed cereal commercial in french, basically everuthing sounded like something he had no understamding or could relate to.

I started feeling depressed because i could see that although from his perspective we were fighting..

I was even more frustrated becauese we werent fighting. I was pretty much crying, trying to tell him in french something he didnt understand while he was yelling at me in english about me not respecting him by not speaking english.

This was the worst fucking part. Because part of the issue that led me here was accountabiliyy and communication.

I kept telling him in the only way i knew how.please im sorry i know things are getting worse. But this isnt how we are.

I thought we could get through anything.

In his mind he saw a piece of something, he ignored my emotional attachment to it..and i mean i cant blame him, other people never quit.

But even in those moments i knew i wasnt going to be other people.

And suddenly i was alone. I was depressed. I had realized that it wasnt us that was th issue so i tried so hard to communicate more effectively that he got frustrated and said i talked in loops. I felt so alone because i understood his frustration and i just needed him to trust me. But that was the perfect storm when i just got so alone feeling from his inability to just not look at me how i felt at myself. And i honestly tried to fix it in the middle of him running away and the most painful thing was that he couldnt understand and i didnt know how to say it.

I dont blame him for leaving

But a part of me breaks to my very core to know that if he just literally lookrd at me like yes i was going crZy but i was just hurting and overwhelmed.

All i wanted and needed was him.

The worst. Pain was that he didnt see that.

And i needed to explain it. And he didnt let me.

I felt like i was desperatly trying to express something of real explaination. I just honestly was desperate to because he was running.

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uss-edsall · 8 years ago

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“Ware mine!” “Starboard your helm!” . . . “Full speed ahead!” The squat craft duly swings: -- A hand’s breath off, a thing of dread The sullen breaker flings. Carefully, slowly, patiently, The men of Grimsby town Grope their way on the rolling sea – The storm-swept, treach’rous grey North Sea – Keeping the death-rate down. Cold is the wind as the Gates of Death, Howling a dirge with its biting breath, Tearing rude music from rigging taut – The tune with deadly omen fraught: “Look at yourselves, oh, sailors bold – I am the one ye know of old! I make my sport with such as ye – The game that is played on every sea With death as the loser’s penalty!” Valiantly, stoutly, manfully, The trawlers fight the gale; Buoyant they ride on the rolling sea – The storm-swept, treach’rous grey North Sea – Lashed by the North Wind’s flail. Cruel the waves of that ocean drear, Whelming the heart with a palsying fear, Hurling their might on the stagg’ring craft, Crashing aboard of her fore and aft, Buffeting, pounding, a dreadful force, Sweeping her decks as she hugs her course. Little they care, come wind or wave, The men of Grimsby Town; There are mines to destroy and lives to save, And they take the risk, these sailormen brave, With a laugh and a joke, or a rollicking stave, As the gear goes plunging down. Honour the trawler’s crew, For Fear they never knew! Now on their quest they go With measured tack and slow – Seeking the hidden fate Strewn with a devilish hate. Death may come in a terrible form, Death in a calm or death in a storm, Death without warning, stark and grim, Death with a tearing of limb from limb, Death in a horrible, hideuous guise: -- Such is the minesweepers’ sacrifice! Carless of terrors and scornful of ease, Stolid and steadfast, they sweep the seas. Cheerfully, simply, fearlessly, The men of Grimsby Town Do their bit on the rolling sea – The storm-swept, treach’rous grey North Sea – Doing their duty unflinchingly Keeping the death-rate down.

Mine Sweepers, by H. Ingamells Over three hundred of Grimsby’s fleet of trawlers were engaged in the hazardous task of sweeping the sea for mines sown by the Germans. Quoted in Voices of Silence: The Alternative Book of First World War Poetry, by Vivien Noakes

#World War One #long post

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robertkstone · 7 years ago

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2018 Honda Fit Sport First Test Review: Where Practicality and Fun Meet

It’s late at night, and I’m sitting at a stop sign in Honda’s latest hot hatch. There isn’t another car in sight. I shove the shifter into first gear, stomp on the gas, and drop the clutch. The tach needle swings to the 6,800-rpm redline. I throw the transmission into second; the engine speed lands at peak torque as I floor it again. And a big smile appears on my face. No, this is not the Honda Civic Type R. It’s the 2018 Honda Fit Sport with a six-speed manual. And although it might not quite be the Type R of tall practical hatchbacks, this smile-making machine fits the bill as a good foundation for such a car.

The Honda Fit has been a marvel of a car since it first went on sale in 2007. Few vehicles leave such a small footprint yet offer the passenger and cargo room of a larger car. The Fit is also known for good interior fit and finish, and it’s a blast to drive, compared to the mostly dour entries in the segment. Designing a small car with lots of room, good handling, and a nice interior is difficult, but Honda has it down with the Fit. We track-tested this gem of a small car for the 2018 model and took a closer look at how Honda updated its subcompact hatch.

The interior’s versatility can be explained in two words: Magic Seat. The second-row seats fold down like in most vehicles; the seat bottoms can be folded up like the rear seats in some pickups, leaving a commodious amount of room for tall objects. The seats came in handy when transporting a large mirror. The front passenger seat also folds flat, allowing you to fit long objects like a surfboard or ladder. If you need to take a nap, sit in the passenger-side rear seat and prop your legs up on the front passenger seat, which can also recline all the way back. There are many ways to haul stuff—or to relax—in the Fit’s large cabin.

With the Magic Seat folded down, owners can stuff 52.7 cubic feet of cargo into the Fit, much more than its biggest rival, the Nissan Versa Note (38.3 cubic feet), and more than many subcompact crossovers, including the Chevrolet Trax, the Mazda CX-3, the Jeep Renegade, and the Toyota C-R. With its taller roofline, the platform-sharing Honda HR-V crossover offers a little more space, between 55.9 and 58.8 cubic feet of cargo. Still, with the exception of the HR-V, none of the above vehicles offer anything like the very useful second-row Magic Seat.

The Honda Fit demonstrates that you don’t need lots of horsepower to have fun on the road. Yes, quick acceleration is fun but so is flooring a low-horsepower car on a long sweeper, confidently carrying more speed than anticipated. Once the tall body rolls its weight to the outside wheels, the Fit is stable in corners, and the steering is quick, precise, and nicely weighted. The tires do not squeal early like in many economy cars, which allows the driver to push the hatchback harder. On a few occasions, I entered long, sweeping turns too slow, thinking that the little Fit couldn’t handle it. With a quick downshift and a stomp of the gas pedal, the Fit hunkers down and charges through with ease, up until the screaming tires force you to slow down. This Fit is proof that it can be more fun to drive a slow car fast. The tradeoff: The ride gets busy and a little noisy over rough roads—as you would expect from an econobox.

The fun factor can be improved with the optional Honda Factory Performance package, which includes a rear spoiler, HFP sport-tuned suspension, 16-inch black alloy wheels with orange graphics, HFP badging, sport pedals, and a titanium shift knob.

The Fit’s 1.5-liter I-4 produces 130 hp at 6,600 rpm and 114 lb-ft of torque at 4,600 rpm (or 128 hp and 113 lb-ft for the CVT). That might not seem like a lot, but with our Sport-trimmed car’s as-tested curb weight of only 2,555 pounds and a six-speed manual, the power is adequate. If you need to accelerate quickly, make sure to redline the little four-banger so that when you upshift, you land in the powerband.

For all its fun factor, the Fit’s actual performance numbers aren’t overwhelming. At the track, the Fit hit 60 mph in 8.4 seconds and the quarter mile in 16.3 seconds at 84.2 mph, on par with your average compact crossover with a larger engine. The Fit is quicker than the econobox competitive set: The Nissan Versa’s 0–60 time was 10.3 seconds, the Hyundai Accent clocked a 9.7, a stick-shift Toyota Yaris managed 9.1, while an automatic Kia Rio came close at 8.7 seconds. Associate road test editor Erick Ayapana got his best time by revving the engine to 4,000 rpm and rolling into the throttle. Braking distance is a little long, stopping from 60 mph in 126 feet, bested by the Versa Note’s 122 feet. Brake feel is OK; the pedal feels mushy and has lots of travel. Fuel economy is good, rated at 29/36 mpg city/highway with the manual transmission and 33/40 mpg with the CVT in LX form or 31/36 mpg in other CVT trims (the CVT-only Versa Note is rated at 31/39 mpg).

The Honda Fit for the 2019 model year adds auto high-beams on models with Honda Sensing – get 2019 Fit pricing here.

On the safety side, our Sport tester did not come with any driver-assist tech, but Honda Sensing is available as an option, even with the six-speed manual on the EX trim (the CVT offers it on LX and Sport and makes it standard on EX and EX-L)—some automakers do not offer driver-assist tech with manual transmissions. Honda Sensing helps keep you out of trouble with automatic emergency braking, adaptive cruise control, a lane centering system, and lane departure assist. In NHTSA testing, the Honda Fit received the highest overall safety rating of five stars, and it received the highest rating, Good, in four of the IIHS’ crash tests. (IIHS’ two small-overlap front crash tests were not conducted.) When equipped with Honda Sensing (standard on the EX and EX-L trims), the Fit received the highest rating of Superior for the front crash prevention evaluation by avoiding 12- and 25-mph frontal collisions. The Versa Note managed a four-star overall safety rating from the NHTSA and received Good scores in the same four IIHS crash tests, but it does not offer automatic emergency braking or any driver-assist features.

For 2018, Honda updated the Fit’s styling with redesigned front and rear fascias, a reworked grille, and new wheel designs. Helios Yellow and Orange Fury (our tester’s color) join the color palette. Tech is improved with the addition of Honda Sensing, Apple CarPlay, and Android Auto. The big news is the Fit’s new Sport trim (the trim we tested), which adds a black front spoiler with orange trim, a rear three-strake diffuser with an upper orange trim, sporty side skirts, gloss black 16-inch alloy wheels, foglights, and a chrome exhaust finisher. Inside, the Sport distinguishes itself with orange accent stitching on the seats, center armrest, leather-wrapped steering wheel, and shift knob. The black interior with cross-hatched seat and door panel fabric is also unique to the Sport. Our tester came standard with a multiview rearview camera and an infotainment system with a 7.0-inch touchscreen, Bluetooth, Apple CarPlay, Android Auto, Pandora compatibility, HondaLink, and two USB ports. Without any extras added, the sticker price is $18,375.

As sporty as the Honda Fit Sport looks, it’s still a tall hatchbacks, which will never appeal to some—but the Orange Fury color with black wheels looks pretty cool. Other criticisms: The clutch lacks feel (but the shifter is precise), the center armrest is low, the cupholders are placed too low and far away, and the A-pillar sometimes blocks your view when turning. The infotainment system is harder to learn than most, and Apple CarPlay stopped working for me for a night (but was fine the next day)—we’re not sure if this issue was isolated to our tester. Lastly, the traction and electronic stability control systems can be turned down but not completely off; they still intervene with loss of traction and when cornering hard, reducing driving enjoyment but keeping you in one piece. We suppose that’s a good thing.

Regardless, it’s hard to beat the Fit when compared to its subcompact hatchback rivals. The Fit’s spacious and versatile interior, great outward visibility, available tech, efficient engine, and relatively fun driving dynamics give it a feeling that you didn’t scrimp on an entry-level car. The Versa Note, Toyota Yaris, and Mitsubishi Mirage are now aged when compared to the Fit. The Kia Rio hatchback is good, but it only offers 32.8 cubic feet of total cargo space. The choice here is easy.

2018 Honda Fit Sport (manual transmission) BASE PRICE $18,390 PRICE AS TESTED $18,390 VEHICLE LAYOUT Front-engine, FWD, 5-pass, 4-door hatchback ENGINE 1.5L/130-hp/114-lb-ft SOHC 16-valve I-4 TRANSMISSION 6-speed manual CURB WEIGHT (F/R DIST) 2,555 lb (62/38%) WHEELBASE 99.6 in LENGTH x WIDTH x HEIGHT 161.8 x 67.0 x 60.0 in 0-60 MPH 8.4 sec QUARTER MILE 16.3 sec @ 84.2 mph BRAKING, 60-0 MPH 126 ft LATERAL ACCELERATION 0.82 g (avg) MT FIGURE EIGHT 27.9 sec @ 0.59 g (avg) EPA CITY/HWY/COMB FUEL ECON 29/36/31 mpg ENERGY CONS, CITY/HWY 116/94 kW-hrs/100 miles CO2 EMISSIONS, COMB 0.61 lb/mile

#IFTTT #PerformanceJunk WP Feed 3

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jonathanbelloblog · 8 years ago

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First Drive: 2019 Porsche Cayenne Turbo

WALLBERG, Germany — “Right after start, then right again, narrows slightly, crest, long slight left. Caution! Road goes right, drops on left and right. Dip! Hairpin left, closes.”

These co-driver bullet points describe the first 2,000 feet of the Wallberg hillclimb. Never heard of the mountain famous for its exclusively black downhill pistes? Then you’re probably not familiar with classic motorsport pilgrimage sites such as Ollon-Villars, Monte Bondone, or Gaisberg, either. But in the 1960s and ’70s, the highly popular European Hillclimb Championship ran on these and 15 other cordoned-off mountain passes. The events were domintated during a 10-year timespan by Gerhard Mitter and Sepp Greger, who competed in a variety of Porsches, from the 718 RS 60 to the 910. So, we thought, what better place to start our tour de force in the 2019 Porsche Cayenne Turbo than this poorly paved wriggle on which the past half century has barely left any traces?

The posted speed limit is all of 30 mph, which you think is ridiculously slow until you actually drop the hammer and hit the narrow, uneven road with rock face on the left and the occasional wooden cross on the right. The new Cayenne immediately feels at home on this curvy terrain sprinkled with wet leaves. It takes at least two runs to familiarize yourself with this ’till-death-do-us-part stage. But once the tricky sequence of corners, crests, and climbs is stored inside your head, nothing should stop you from putting in a performance strong enough to make the curbside fir trees bow and applaud, and they have indeed witnessed many wild rides. Porsche’s trademark “driver steers, vehicle thinks” philosophy is evident and extends all the way to the fringe when the electronic helpers intervene. Dial in PSM Sport, and the broad barge will even perform an occasional four-wheel slide, clipping apexes as if they were buoys, allowing the odd dash of weight transfer to bring the rear end back in line. Nice.

The connecting stage to the Sudelfeld pass contains a mixed bag of challenges, from the autobahn to slow rush-hour traffic. Given half a chance the Cayenne turbo will max out, in sixth gear, at a rather swift 179 mph. Responsible for the 550 horsepower and 567 lb-ft of torque is a 4.0-liter V-8 with two turbochargers. While the all-new eight-speed automatic transmission will happily slip into coast mode under trailing throttle, it does not yet incorporate the componentry needed for a plug-in hybrid upgrade. The 0-60-mph stint takes a dragstrip-inspired 3.7 seconds (with Sport Chrono Package), while the sprint from 0 to 100 mph is accomplished in only 9.2 seconds. Impressive numbers, but the best is yet to come, namely the Turbo’s ability to beam itself from 50 to 75 mph in a mind-boggling 2.7 seconds.

Unlike Wallberg, the Sudelfeld road is a fast stretch of tarmac. No surprise then that the Cayenne starts its first ascent with total calm, riding the torque surf in fourth, fifth, and sixth gear. This low-to-mid speed urge in combination with the ability to spin beyond 6,000 rpm makes the new V-8 a remarkably balanced high-performance engine. Massaging the throttle briefly is all its takes to flatten any gradient and to build speed almost as fast as you can turn up the stereo’s volume. Select Sport mode, and the gearbox increases the pace and ramps up the rhythm.

On the back roads to Austria, driver and passenger wrestle with the infotainment system first introduced in the Panamera. The latest in-dash electronics are to a novice like a door with seven locks. What may be a dream come true for videogame nerds is a pain in the rear for an older person who misses, first of all, a knob to turn up the music. Everything is touchy slidey, and the menus and submenus often need several steps to access. It takes a long, straight road or a parking place to come to grips with what all those bits and bytes can do for you. But as soon as you encounter a corner or a couple of potholes, the eyeless index finger typically takes three attempts to perform one command. It’s all a bit of ergonomic overkill.

On the three-lane Munich-Salzburg autobahn, the Cayenne Turbo acts like a rather big fish in a relatively small aquarium. After all, there is a lot of it, and all that mass wants to be sped up and slowed down recurrently in a demonstration of what a sporty cottage on wheels can do. Without siding with the eco crowd, it somehow goes against the grain of your green conscience to drive the SUV like a 911, which is of course exactly the attraction of buying an SUV from Porsche in the first place. Still, if fast isn’t fast enough, just hit the black button in the middle of the drive-mode selector and relish a 20-second overboost fest: Between 125 and 150 mph, we’re in the zone that sifts the would-be heroes from the real superachievers. Just as satisfying, the Cayenne corners almost as flat as a Panamera, brakes almost as urgently as a Macan, and handles with almost the same precision as a Cayman.

That said, we have yet to drive a no-frills base-model Cayenne. Our test car was fitted with 21-inch wheels and tires, dynamic chassis control, rear-wheel steering, torque vectoring, Power Steering Plus, and the Sport Chrono pack. The standard triple-chamber air suspension provides a wider spectrum of damper tuning and ride-height adjustment. Dynamic Chassis Control is Porschespeak for active sway bars that can decouple or twist when the off-road going gets tough. Another novelty is the self-adjusting roof spoiler, which can increase downforce up to the point when it becomes an airbrake. Together, these elements warrant a high-speed composure that is second to none. Since each wheel is individually masterminded, unsettling chain reactions are a thing of the past. Body control is exemplary, and the roadholding is untouchable even when the g-force meter slides past the 1.0 mark.

Aided by torque vectoring and the limited-slip rear differential, the Cayenne Turbo accelerates out of tight uphill corners with unreal verve. With all safety nets deactivated, the 315/35R-21 Pirellis paint two short black stripes on the road. On this tricky terrain, you want the suspension in Sport for sufficient compliance and the transmission in Sport Plus for aggressively late upshifts. On the approach to hairpins, however, changing gears is a job for the driver who must synchronize the downshift and the braking point. In summer, front tire temperatures can be a limiting factor, but in autumn you have all the downforce in the world, so make full use of it. We did, grinning from ear to ear. Despite its bulk, the Porsche manages not to understeer excessively through tight blind bends, and it does a fine job controlling its considerable moment of inertia through quicker sweepers. The brakes are quite grabby and not especially intuitive to modulate, but when you hit the pedal hard, they deliver serious stopping bite. Standard on the turbo and optional on lesser models are steel discs coated with tungsten carbide for increased friction and reduced wear and dust. Wheels, rotors, and the white brake calipers were indeed still super clean at the end of our two-day trip.

Although this is a completely new vehicle, the key innovations are semiconductor-driven. The 2019 Cayenne is permanently online, and it hooks up with streaming services like Amazon Music and the smart-home specialist Nest, and its Wi-Fi hotspot ensures consistent reception of your favorite radio stations no matter where you are. The so-called Risk Radar taps the swarm of intelligence stored in the cloud for critical real-time data such as black ice, out-of-the-blue traffic congestion, or a crash that just occurred up ahead. The Voice Pilot who lives at the end of a column stalk allegedly understands more than 100 different commands, from “I’m cold” to “take me to the nearest Italian restaurant.” Also new are five different off-road settings including Gravel, Mud, and Rock, all backed up by accordingly scalable driving dynamics systems. The driving, though, is what stands out. After 360 miles and what must have been 1,000 corners, there is no doubt about it: This SUV is, together with the 400-hp Macan Turbo, a more complete go-anywhere sports car than any of its rivals, and it covers the full spectrum from thundering down the autobahn to climbing up a rutted track to the snowed-in ski chalet.

2019 Porsche Cayenne Turbo Specifications

ON SALE Now for delivery fall 2018 PRICE $125,650 ENGINE 4.0L twin-turbo DOHC 32-valve V-8/550 hp @ 5,750-6,000 rpm, 567 lb-ft @ 1,960-4,500 rpm TRANSMISSION 8-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, AWD SUV EPA MILEAGE N/A L x W x H 193.9 x 78.1 x 65.9 in WHEELBASE 114.0 in WEIGHT 4,797 lb 0-60 MPH 3.7 sec (with Sport Chrono) TOP SPEED 177 mph (electronically limited)

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jesusvasser · 8 years ago

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First Drive: 2019 Porsche Cayenne Turbo

WALLBERG, Germany — “Right after start, then right again, narrows slightly, crest, long slight left. Caution! Road goes right, drops on left and right. Dip! Hairpin left, closes.”

2019 Porsche Cayenne Turbo Specifications

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eddiejpoplar · 8 years ago

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First Drive: 2019 Porsche Cayenne Turbo

WALLBERG, Germany — “Right after start, then right again, narrows slightly, crest, long slight left. Caution! Road goes right, drops on left and right. Dip! Hairpin left, closes.”

2019 Porsche Cayenne Turbo Specifications

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epchapman89 · 8 years ago

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The Tale Of The Ghoulish Morning Shift

I don’t believe in ghosts or paranormal activity, but 30 years ago I had a series of experiences I can’t explain in any rational way. It spooked me enough that I’ll never take another job that requires me to work before dawn. I also still refuse to answer knocks at my door.

Bulldog News, owned by Doug Campbell and Gloria Seborg, is a newsstand and cafe in Seattle that’s been serving news junkies and the caffeine-deprived for the past 34 years. In the mid-1980s I worked there as a barista and, eventually, a manager. It was the perfect job for a news and magazine junkie like me. It did, however, require getting up at an obscenely early hour.

Bulldog ran the distribution of The New York Times for the University of Washington campus, which meant I had to arrive by 4:30 AM to make sure our undergrad carriers got their newspapers. After the carriers were on their merry way, I would tune the store radio to NPR’s “Morning Edition,” prime the espresso machine, and hang out until it was time to open at 6:30. Bulldog’s front doors face the normally bustling University Avenue, but at that time of morning “The Ave” was so quiet I’d only hear the occasional “swoosh” of a passing city street sweeper or the slow, erratic shuffle of an inebriated student heading back to the dorms. It was also dark and almost always raining, which I thought early on in my Bulldog tenure was the only half-way spooky aspect of the job.

Then I heard the knock.

It was 5:00 AM on a Thursday morning and I was sitting in the front of the shop, sipping on my first shots of Bulldog Blend espresso. My usual morning routine was suddenly interrupted by two solid knocks at the back door. I walked to the back room to see if it was a delivery, but when I peered through the glass pane, I couldn’t see a soul. I cautiously opened the door and looked up and down the alley. Then I heard a man’s voice say, “Ready?”

The only living thing I could see in the alley was a seagull eating trash down by Magus Books. I couldn’t lock the back door fast enough.

Two weeks later it happened again, on a Thursday at about 5:00 AM. I went to the back door and saw nothing. This time I decided not to go outside. But when it happened a third time, I started getting nervous. That early in the morning I was all by myself inside Bulldog and it was always pitch black outside. Was someone playing a practical joke on me? Was there a water pipe that only made knocking noises on Thursdays at 5:00 AM? One afternoon, during a clove cigarette break in the back alley, I shared my story with a friend who worked as a barista at Cafe Allegro, the espresso joint located just a few feet down the alley from Bulldog’s back door. He just nodded his head and rather matter-of-factly stated, “That was probably just Cassidy.”

I waited for the punch line and when it didn’t come, I realized he wasn’t joking. Cafe Allegro, opened by former Starbucks executive Dave Olsen in 1975, was one of the very first espresso bars in Seattle and the staff is well-versed in its history. According to my friend, our end of the building, which was built back in 1909, used to house the Forkner Funeral Home. I pumped him for more information and learned that Cafe Allegro’s front entrance (and our back door) all used to be part of the mortuary’s garage. In 1944 one of their hearse drivers took a wrong turn at night and ended up crashing into the Lake Washington Ship Canal. It was years before they recovered his body. “That was Cassidy,” my friend told me. “Every once in a while he likes to knock on doors like he always did, looking to see if his ‘customers’ were ready for a drive.” Then he laughed and said, “I think Thursdays were his pick-up day.”

After a few more nervous mornings, my level-headed Ph.D. candidate girlfriend convinced me it was probably the Allegro crew playing a practical joke. Given our constant good-natured trash talking about which of us made the best espresso on “The Ave,” it sounded plausible to me. So I decided to catch them in the act.

It was a cold October Thursday morning, and I’d asked one of our other managers to cover the first part of my shift. I told her one of our carriers was sick and I had to make their New York Times deliveries. As Tanya hung out inside Bulldog, I stationed myself at end of our back alley. I got suspicious looks from the occasional passerby, but nobody entered the alley or went near our back door. After about a half-hour I was cold and bored so, feeling a tad stupid, I went back to Bulldog and asked Tanya to let me in the front door. What happened next still gives me goosebumps when I think about it.

“Did you forget your keys?” Tanya asked. When I told her I had not, she said: “That wasn’t you knocking at the back door?” My face turned a shade of white usually found only on polar bears and marshmallows. She suggested I may need to eat more red meat. I just mumbled an agreement.

Astonishingly I stayed at Bulldog for another 10 months after, but every Thursday morning, as the clock approached 5:00, I would crank up NPR and pretend not to hear what I know I heard. I hope ol’ Cassidy didn’t feel slighted. And if he did, he’s going to have to ring a doorbell to find me.

Michael Alberty is a wine writer based in Oregon, and a Sprudge Wine contributor.

The post The Tale Of The Ghoulish Morning Shift appeared first on Sprudge.

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itsworn · 8 years ago

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Under Pressure: Racing Pikes Peak in a Twin-Turbo Mustang

It’s more than the mountain’s altitude, the week’s sleeplessness, or the mechanical heartbreak that’ll change you at the Pikes Peak International Hill Climb—it’s the people. Racing families are the friends who’ll even turn down beer money to see you through to the end; the satisfaction of finishing (or at least being a few paces ahead of two-steps back) is payment enough.

We first met Kash Singh in 2013 while diagnosing a banging noise from the back of his Time Attack 2–class 2008 Ford Mustang Shelby GT500. The Fiji-born gentleman racer—a product planner in Dearborn, Michigan—was known for a wealth of antics on the mountain (such as bringing KFC up to the peak so fellow drivers could eat something a little different than donuts while waiting the race out), and this introduction was no different. The banging sound coming from the rear-right corner of the car was caused when the intercooler pump began leaking on the factory subwoofer, shorting it on and off. Take a moment to think about this: a Pikes Peak International Hill Climb Time Attack race car bumping dancefloor beats.

While most racers were doing their final shakedowns at a local track, Kash Singh was hitting the highway from Washington. There may have been some run-ins with the local law and a picnic at the Bonneville Salt Flats, but the newly built hillclimber made it 1,400 miles without a hitch.

Kash is also known for road-tripping his Pikes Peak race car thousands of miles to and from the race, and he’s one of the only racers to still do it. In previous years, he used a near-stock Time Attack 2–class GT500 to drive from Michigan to Colorado before unloading the trunk at the hotel and driving right to tech inspection. In 2016, he entered an EcoBoost Mustang, but some greater power told him via three red-flagged runs (due to weather or crashes ahead) the turbo-four was not meant to be.

For 2017, he decided to step up a class by entering the less-restrictive Time Attack 1 field with a newly built, twin-turbo 2017 Ford Mustang GT. Built by Revolutions Speed Shop and supported by Amsoil and Tire Rack, the S550 received a pair of Garret turbos to feed the factory-fresh, DOHC, 5.0L V8—which was still wearing its warranty before it entered RSS owner Scott Jenson’s shop. H&R coilovers brought the chassis closer to the ground while providing the necessary adjustments, DBA USA rotors with the stock Brembo calipers hauled things down, and the widebody housed the massive 19×11-inch Forgestars. With the high-altitude, low-density air at Pikes Peak (with a start line sitting 9,400 feet above sea level), cooling was a large concern. Mishimoto answered with an aluminum radiator and intercooler combo, and the stock hood was ducted to evacuate all the underhood heat possible.

Parts delays meant no track time before the race, and he’d have to learn everything about this new combination during practice—a trial by hillclimb. The new car made substantially more power, had more grip, and built boost in an entirely different manner than the factory-blown Shelby. “I knew it was going to be fast, and I knew it was going to be different,” Kash explained. “So I needed to figure out what gear I had to be in and how the turbocharged powerband felt.”

Practice began on Pikes Peak’s least-aggressive portion, the lower section from the start line to Glen Cove. The initial 2,000-foot climb is mostly comprised of sweepers, though corners like Engineers and Sump catch unsuspecting drivers with regularity.

With preservation and reliability in mind, the stock 5.0 was tuned for low boost, with the twin Garrets providing altitude compensation more than anything else with only 8 psi. Each practice morning began by driving the race car straight from the hotel to the pit spot, throwing on some safety gear, and then cruising up to the start.

“Number 78 is off, Cog Cut,” our race radio screeched through the static. Nearly 2,000 miles from home, Kash had a hard “off” during mid-section practice. Three days of progressive speed in each practice session, and he had pushed just an inch too hard on one of the road’s rough patches. With no further radio calls for EMT or rescue personnel, we got the impression that Kash was OK, but the Cog was a dramatic spot to go off. While entering the braking zone, the car hit a washboard section of road, causing it to skitter across the high points under heavy braking and blowing through the turn. Kash managed to keep it on the mountain, but he cleared a 2-foot drainage ditch in the process, stuffing the plywood splitter, aluminum coolers, and fiberglass nose into the rocks.

“At first, walking through my head about how expensive it was going to be to tow it back home, how expensive flights were going to be this last-minute,” he recalled. “And what I’d have to tell my mom! I thought it was going to be done.”

After the practice sessions ended, the flatbed hauled Kash and the Mustang downhill where they met with Devon Dobson, his crew chief, and Mario Tomlin, another member of the Pikes family. Mario worked for a local Colorado Springs shop run by Loren Southard, European Performance Specialists. Through sheer luck, there was no visible chassis damage, but the Mustang’s relocated fuse block had been ripped of dozens of wires. While the Blue Oval’s ponycar was built in Dearborn, its complex CAN-BUS networked electrical system was first adopted by BMW—right up Loren’s alley.

Randy’s Towing dropped the car off, and Kash fended off a horde of concerned callers. While he settled family fears and began sourcing parts, Mario and Loren started work on the Mustang. The wreck had not only damaged the fuse block but had crushed the intercooler, radiator, and A/C condenser—and the hood was stuck! The shop quickly shuffled cars around to clear a bay and get the Mustang in the air. Kash, being a Blue Oval employee, was able to quickly get ahold of the exact wiring diagrams, and Loren began his work.

The crew over at European Performance Specialists had to first dismantle the hood latch through the grille before they could begin inspecting the damage.

While the crew at European Performance Specialists started to work their magic, Kash ran the bumper over to the shop of a fellow Pikes racer, Jimmy Keeny. Universally known as one of the nicest guys on the mountain, Jimmy offered to patch up the fiberglass front bumper and shoot some paint, while Kash ran to a local hardware store for more plywood for the front splitter.

Pikes veteran Jimmy Keeny repaired the shattered fiberglass lip and color-matched the paint in just a few hours.

Loren had managed to re-pin the Mustang’s fuse block, even sourcing the obscure connectors and terminals needed. With a little back and forth on the pin-outs, and only a few sparks, the Mustang fired to life.

They later returned to Loren’s shop with a freshly painted bumper, sheets of plywood, and a stack of pizzas. It was going to be a long night—practice was still on for the next morning—but with the help of Loren’s crew, fellow Pikes Peak racer Andy Kingsley, and Devon, Kash drove the car out of the shop just in time for a nap.

Kash, Devon Dobson, Loren Southard, Andy Kingsley, and Katie Lyons worked into the night to button the Mustang up.

Trepidation set in, but Kash couldn’t show it. The first run was slow, but served as a safety check of the prior day’s work. With the Mustang running as expected, Kash began dropping chunks of time to a final 5:17.303 qualifying time with the third run.

Friday’s practice was a conservative mid-section run to Devil’s Playground. The car continued to pick up speed over Kash’s previous GT500, but ultimately the day would end early as a nearby storm rolled over the mountain’s winding ridges.

The fog on Pikes Peak is otherworldly, with rock faces and bottomless pits hiding behind the haze.

As the fanfare roweled up in the morning—race day—Kash gave his street car a once-over, topping off the motor with a shot of Amsoil and double-checking tire pressures.

Belts strapped, helmet on, and HANS hooked, Kash rolled up to the line, guided by Pikes’ official starter, Dave Jordan. Weather reports from the peak came in steadily: clear conditions, despite the low clouds rolling in during the afternoon. With a press of a button and a flash of green, Kash was off. The twin Garrets quickly spooled into a high-pitched song as he cleared the official timed start, winding through the top of Second. Around the timing screens, something of a family reunion occurred, with fellow racers and friends anxiously watching for another red-flag nightmare—2017 would prove to be a full-pull. Other than dodging some goats at nearly 11,000 feet, Kash was able to push the Mustang comfortably to a personal best of 13:22.636.

Some races are about pure survival more than ultimate victory, and Gear Vendors HOT ROD Drag Week, powered by Dodge, is one of them. More than climbing to the top of the podium, seeing the peak of the mountain is worth more weight in respect and satisfaction than just about anything else. Winning is what you make of it. For Kash, this year’s win was a new personal best in a car that challenges his comfort zones as a driver in ways that only Pikes Peak can.

The post Under Pressure: Racing Pikes Peak in a Twin-Turbo Mustang appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

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buildercar · 8 years ago

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New Post has been published on http://www.buildercar.com/first-drive-2017-honda-civic-type-r/

First Drive: 2017 Honda Civic Type R

MIRABEL, Quebec, Canada — Accelerating toward the late, late apex of a sphincter-tightening right-hand sweeper at the 16-turn International Center of Advanced Racing (Circuit ICAR) just north of Montreal, I squeeze down on the throttle. This unleashes the full fury of 306 turbocharged horses, and I then do what I always do when cornering at max lat in a potent front-drive car: I brace for torque steer. But the new 2017 Honda Civic Type R I’m wringing out does not try to yank the steering wheel from my fingertips. It does not dart off line. It does not scream “yeeeeehaaawww!” or use its 22.8 psi of turbo boost to burn the 20-inch front tires into acrid black jelly.

Instead, with absolutely zero fuss, the Type R blasts me out of the turn and into the next corner so fiercely I have to stand on the ventilated, cross-drilled, four-piston Brembo front brakes just to keep from launching straight into the nearby village of Saint-Antoine. (It would be especially embarrassing to admit that you crashed into a city with your own name on it.)

The headline is this: The new Type R is the fastest production front-driver ever to circle the Nürburgring Nordschleife, accomplishing the feat in just 7 minutes, 43.8 seconds. That’s 7 seconds quicker than the previous, fourth-gen car I tested in Slovakia in 2015 (but which we Americans never got a chance to buy). If the new, gen-five Type R’s time doesn’t mean anything to you, join me down on Memory Lane for a moment. Back in 2005, a Pagani Zonda S lapped the same circuit in 7:44 flat. That car cost $500,000, seats just two with no cargo, and looks like a cross between a Ferrari Enzo and a Hercules missile. The Type R costs $34,775, seats four, delivers more than 46 cubic feet of cargo room with the rear seat folded down, and gets 28 mpg on the highway. It looks like a cross between a Hercules missile and a Honda.

What the headline does not reveal is how the Type R got so damn fast. The answer mirrors Ernest Hemingway’s description of going bankrupt: “Two ways. Gradually, then suddenly.”

At a glance, the new Type R doesn’t seem dramatically different from its 2015 predecessor. The Ohio-built engine is essentially unchanged: same displacement, same VTEC variable valve-timing and direct-injection hardware, same power and torque, same 7,000-rpm redline. The one and only shifter remains a six-speed manual feeding, again, a front helical limited slip differential. As before, huge 13.8-inch Brembos sit forward with 12-inch solid discs at the rear. The suspension boasts variable magnetorheological shocks and variable-ratio electronic power steering. The sport seats are worthy of a race car. The rear wing could lift a B-52.

Yet there are differences. Mostly small ones, admittedly, but in sum they produce a vastly changed automobile. The final drive ratio, for instance, is lowered by 7 percent, improving acceleration. Front track is widened by nearly half an inch, while the rear track swells by 2.5 inches. Front/rear weight distribution is improved. Torsional rigidity is up 38 percent, yet weight is down thanks to lightweight structural materials. The car’s center of gravity is almost half an inch lower. The reshaped bodywork and ducting improve engine cooling, reduce drag and lift, and add rear downforce at speed. It’s subtle stuff — you might not notice any of it right away — but it creates a more impressive vehicle.

Other revisions and upgrades stand out. The alloy wheels have grown from 19 inches to 20; they’re finished in a striking black design wearing 245/30R-20 summer performance tires. New is Honda’s first-ever rev-match system. Instead of the driver blipping the throttle while braking (heel-and-toe downshifting), simply brake with your right foot and, as you move the gear lever to a lower ratio, the system automatically does the engine blipping for you. Out back is a new three-pipe exhaust system that sports two outside main pipes with a central resonator. At lower throttle the resonator adds increased sound; all three pipes are open. At higher engine speeds, however, the resonator’s pressure goes negative, ducting the exhaust to the outside pipes to minimize booming. It’s a passive system that requires no butterfly valves to function. And it looks cool.

The cockpit remains clean and sporty, with lots of red accents (a Type R signature), faux carbon-fiber trim that doesn’t look cheap, those great front buckets, and a central display that changes depending on which driving mode you’re in or what particulars — tach, boost gauge, etc. — you’d like to see. Front and center is a terrific three-spoke leather wheel, with a handsome aluminum shift knob nicely positioned for your right hand. Above the center column is a 7-inch color touchscreen display also operable via voice commands. There’s nothing fancy here, and there shouldn’t be. Honda has put the money where it counts—not on flash, but on great seats, premium materials, and hardware you’ll really use and appreciate.

An important note: Everything on the Type R is standard. You pick your preferred color (making a dramatic return is Honda’s renowned Championship White). That’s it. But that in no way implies you’ll be left wanting. The standard-equipment sheet is long: Honda-linked navigation with digital traffic info; 540-watt, 12-speaker audio system; support for Apple CarPlay and Android Auto; keyless Smart Entry and push-button start; dual-zone climate control; LED headlights, fog lights, and daytime running lights; a multi-angle rear-view camera; and a lot more. Check out the pricing of the competition — Subaru STi, Ford Focus RS, Volkswagen Golf R — and you’ll find the Honda undercuts them all, even with its superior list of standard stuff.

Back to Circuit ICAR. The last Type R was impressively lacking in torque steer, but the gen-five model is even better. There’s almost none to speak of, even under full throttle in the tightest of turns. Credit revised dual-axis front struts—similar to the Focus RS’s RevoKnuckle setup—which reduce torque steer while also improving steering responsiveness. The new 20-inch meats and improved suspension tuning add a newfound stability to an already impressive layout. Yes, the Type R will step out, but in a calm, predictable, friendly manner. At the limit, a judicious lift of the throttle will bring just the right helpful hint of oversteer to lock you back on line. This suspension is both completely settled and remarkably grippy. Not once during my lapping sessions did the car make an unexpected move on me.

As before, the driver can choose from three driving modes: Comfort, Sport, and R+. Each adjusts chassis stiffness, steering effort, and drive-by-wire throttle response. One major criticism I raised about the 2015 Type R was its suspension harshness in R+ mode. I don’t recall the roads in Slovakia being awful, but on the street the car was nearly unbearable in R+. That’s not the case any more. Yes, R+ is still noticeably the stiffest of the three choices, but it feels far more compliant now. I had no complaints during my road drive, though Comfort did ride far better, and Sport seemed the best ride/handling compromise.

The dual-pinion, variable-ratio electronic power-steering system gets a larger motor for 2017 and needs just 2.1 turns lock to lock. It’s not great—as with other EPS systems, it lacks road feel—but it’s better than before, noticeably so. I found myself using Sport or R+ modes almost exclusively, though; in Comfort the steering takes on a power boost that’s somehow murky. In R+ the response is much more direct and satisfying.

On the track, the rev-match system worked brilliantly. Frankly, I’ve used such systems before and never liked them. After using manual transmissions for years and learning how to heel-and-toe, suddenly not blipping the throttle yourself feels counterintuitive. And most rev-match systems don’t seem to do the matching particularly well. Honda’s system is different. Within a few corners I was confidently planting my right foot on the brake and flipping the gear lever down while the engine automatically and smoothly revved up to accept the lower gear. Nicely done, and it sounds great, too.

Ah, the sound. Wish there was more of it. If I have a major criticism of this new and vastly improved Type R, it’s that I’d like a little more wickedness. The car is almost too buttoned-down, too predictable and safe and efficient. Especially given the variable exhaust, why isn’t there more scream from the engine at full throttle? Even at the redline the 2.0-liter turbo is more poised and polished than electrifying. I want a car with such laser-like race focus to feel as wild as it works. Yes, the performance is there—no doubt whatsoever. The Type R just needs a bit more sauce on the steak. (A lot of buyers, no doubt, are going to pour that sauce right on via the aftermarket.)

Honda plans to bring 2,700 Type Rs to our shores almost immediately (they’re built in the U.K.), and after that will likely settle at a rate of about 3,000 annually.

For sure, this new car is equipped to meet those lofty targets. Even without the four-wheel drive of its main rivals, the Civic Type R displays remarkable poise and an uncanny ability to put its power down. It’s utterly refined but unquestionably fast. It’s happy puttering around town but hungry to scorch any track any time and feels like it could do it all day.

The last time I reviewed a Civic Type R I had to tell you, “It’s cool all right, but it’s not coming here.” This time I’m happy to say, “This one was worth the wait.”

2017 Honda Civic Type R Specifications

ON SALE Now PRICE $34,775/` (base/as tested) ENGINE 2.0 turbocharged DOHC 16-valve I-4/306 hp @ 6,500 rpm, 295 lb-ft @ 2,500-4,000 rpm TRANSMISSION 6-speed manual LAYOUT 4-door, 4-passenger, front-engine, FWD hatchback EPA MILEAGE 22/28 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 179.4 x 73.9 x 56.5 in WHEELBASE 106.3 in WEIGHT 3,100 lb 0-60 MPH 5.4 sec TOP SPEED 168 mph

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robertkstone · 8 years ago

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Mercedes-AMG GT4 First Drive: AMG’s Gentleman Racer

As I stepped around the corner of the customer lounge at the pristine modernist HWA/Team AMG headquarters in Affalterbach, Germany, there they were on a wall-sized photo collage of AMG history, the founders, Hans Werner Aufrecht and Erhard Melcher. That one photo captures what defines the AMG brand and product.

It’s the early ’70s, and these two hard-core Euro hot-rodders are watching over their Frankenstein creation, about to score a stunning upset victory at the 24 Hours of Spa. It’s a big, unlikely Mercedes sedan with an enormous, rumbling V-8 and giant flares. So creative, so unique, and more than a little crazy.

Their eyes glint with the passion for performance and motorsports that I share with so many of you, dear readers. So much is written in their faces: determination, enjoyment, intelligence, and mischief.

Nearly a half century later, that passion is very much alive in AMG’s latest GT creation.

Mercedes-AMG automobiles are represented by their hearts—the engines. Always modified and muscled-up Mercedes-Benz powerplants, with an aggressive growl from the racy exhaust tips and an instantly accessible flow of torque over a wide range of revs. One man (or woman, I learned) is responsible for one engine, all the way down the assembly line.

Mounted low and well behind the front axle line of the AMG GT, this V-8 is one of my most favorites for its delicious thrust and the basso profundo that accompanies it. The importance of an engine’s sonic glory cannot be overestimated in the sporting automobile, and AMG has understood and capitalized on this aspect since the very beginning.

The thundering beast before me today at Circuit Paul Ricard—site of the French Grand Prix again next year—is the AMG GT4. It’s designed for the international FIA GT4 class, more street-oriented and less pricey than the GT3 versions we‘ve been seeing in IMSA and Pirelli World Challenge. Even at $239,000, it’s roughly half the price of the GT3 mode and about $100,000 more than the street versions.

But where does that money go? Is AMG just charging more for less? I mean, in the GT4, don’t they simply use the original car with a lot of expensive interior appointments removed?

Well, safety is a high priority. The GT4 incorporates all those features found on the GT3, including the rooftop port for better stabilized driver extraction and a seat molded right into the chassis, with pedals and steering that move, instead. The latter arrangement is far stronger than using sliders to both mount and adjust position, and the seat is the foundation of the restraint system.

Another value add is the motorsport gearbox with wheel-mounted shift paddles—again similar to the GT3. The main object here is reliability. Between this purpose-built transmission and the near-stock engine, the AMG GT4 can race for many hours before rebuilds. Pay more up front, pay far less long term, and finish your races. This machine is intended for endurance events, the longer the better. As on the road cars, it’s a rear-mounted transaxle for improved weight and mass distribution attached to the front-mid V-8 with the OEM carbon torque tube.

The GT4 also uses the same hot-V twin-turbo as the street cars and, in this application, likely will be producing less power than them, as well, depending on the race series’ Balance of Performance (BoP) setting. This means the powerplant will be quite understressed and stay competitive by racing engine standards nearly forever. Strangely, many race cars these days are restricted and actually generate less power than those on our public highways. This is an ongoing trend in FIA and sportscar racing, probably good for the sport long term.

AMG has wisely chosen to go with a motorsport engine management, as well, because street systems are a compromise in the racing environment. This also factors into the price and will be another long-term payoff. More and more these days, it is difficult to nearly impossible to take stock electronics from the road to road racing. Computers tuned for the street get confused and go into limp modes, and stability controls keep rearing their overbearing heads.

Like many of the primary components of the AMG GT4, the chassis is also taken from the road car, a sophisticated and lightweight aluminum space frame with strong torsional rigidity, including the control arms and suspension geometry. The shocks are pure racing components by KW, adjustable for compression and rebound, and the track-specific anti-roll bars are adjustable, as well, to tune to driver preference. On a related note, the GT4 also is equipped with traction control, a large yellow knob front and center on the carbon center console. Although it is my advice to turn that off while you tune shock and bar settings, a little TC in competition makes a great power-oversteer safety net, saves tires, and can genuinely save your Nomex-wrapped behind in the rain.

And it was appropriately damp (and chilly) when I first rolled out of pit lane at Ricard, too. I tested that traction control immediately, set by our AMG hosts to a please-don’t-crash Level 2, and it clamped down like a toddler’s mom near Niagara Falls. Yet combined with the also-tunable racing ABS, the car was an easy drive in the slimy conditions. From the very start, the GT4 felt brawny, sophisticated, and impressive, but it slewed around a lot on the treaded Pirelli rains as the surface began to dry.

To my great fortune, I was granted an extra shot just before lunch break, on slicks and a dry track. The AMG delivered neck-straining g’s in all directions of the horizontal plane. Fingertip shifts were as quick as thoughts and imperceptible to the seamless thundering flow of power. Going down gears was even better, with perfect roaring rev-matches. A good modern shifter such as this saves many engines and crashes by denying requests made too early, thus preventing over-revs and missed gears.

I could read the suspension tuning—a combination of Euro pro driver snappy turn-in and journalist-safe heavy front anti-roll bar. Steering response was instantaneous. Once the chassis took a set, considerable understeer showed up in the middle of the corner. Our GT4 was happiest in the fast sweeper on the back side of Ricard, where the sizable wing and splitter shoved tires to pavement in a balanced and effective way. In Ricard’s many slow corners, there was that strong but safe understeer and rewarding, relentless no-lag thrust on the way out. The brake pedal was a good leg-press workout, and the pedal could go numb (perhaps from ABS) but encouraged an aggressive attack on the entry to the corners, cranking up my adrenaline and cranking out smiles.

In true AMG fashion, the car was refined, elegant, and brutal, all at the same time. The package translates readily to the racetrack, and this piece makes an excellent choice for the gentleman or -woman racer, with its safety, quality, and performance. And it has a downright arresting stance on pit lane.

From the south of France, we jetted to Stuttgart, Germany, and the home of AMG, where I encountered that striking photograph of Herren Aufrecht and Melcher. We witnessed the one builder/one engine philosophy at work, and I successfully located the badge of the technician that built the V-8 in the AMG E63 S we tested the week before for MT. Computers track the tool usage, working in concert with the highly trained and respected engine builders. AMG seeks out Germany’s best technicians “that want to build engines.” Every engine is cold-dyno tested (turned to 3,000 rpm without running), and at random intervals some get selected for actual firing on the hot dyno.

The AMG line is, “We cannot make Mercedes engines better, only change them.” To a performance addict like me, more power is for the better, but best to keep the boss happy. The precision and dedication of the process is admirable.

Next, we stalked the race car assembly area, a true race shop, and I left impressed by the degree to which the GT4 is stripped down and prepared from the bottom up for competition. This is quite the complete package.

After a test drive and tour of the production facilities, what could be next? How about a visit to the next battle test of these new racers, the Euro-based Creventic 24H race at Circuit of the Americas in Austin, Texas?

I found myself embedded with the Windward Racing/HTP Motorsport team of owner Bryce and lead driver Russell Ward. The team will be running the IMSA Continental Tire Sportscar Challenge Series GS class next season with a couple new AMG GT4s and was selected to run a test car, along with the Black Falcon squad, in another. Russell was joined by pro Damien Faulkner, a friend I met while coaching in the IMSA Porsche GT3 Cup series, and Euro-pros Indy Dontje and DTM hotshot Maxie Gotz. And I was really thrilled to run into a favorite race engineer of mine from Alex Job Racing days, Greg Fordahl. It was a strong lineup.

All four drivers gave glowing reports on the raceability of the GT4, and it showed on track as I watched, nomadically working my around the CoTA circuit. Traffic was heavy, with the GT4s flirting with the top 10 of the 50-plus starters, so passing situations were constant. There were even a couple near-stock Honda Civics and a Peugeot RCZ that looked like a knockoff Audi TT.

The GT4 entries appeared strong in the brake zones and were often passing two wide around the outside, implying the kind of strong aero grip and stability that encourages aggressive moves. The live in-car video feed showed steady hands on the wheel and no evidence of the skittish corrections of a dicey chassis setup.

The Windward/HTP team led the class for most of the first day (as did its AMG GT3 brother, vying with a 911R for the overall)—the only setback being a tendency to toss off its alternator belt, an issue that only showed up this race with the addition of air conditioning. (Yes, modern FIA GT rules require this for driver safety … it’s hot in there.) Still in the hunt for the class lead 11 hours into the event, both GT4s dropped back when misfires appeared and grew serious, eventually diagnosed by Windward/ HTP as a cranky crank sensor. The team pulled the transaxle and got back in the fight, on the pace, right to the end. At Black Falcon they decided to park the GT4 and focus on the GT3 for the overall.

When the checkered flag fell on Russ Ward in the GT4 after 24 grueling, flat-out hours, Windward/HTP had clawed its way back to midpack, and the Black Falcon GT3 came home a strong second overall to the Porsche.

The AMG GT4 proved itself a gorgeous, imposing racetrack presence with speed and durability to match under tough marathon conditions. One of my favorite road cars has translated into a formidable and enduring competitor, and frankly, I expected nothing less from the company built by those two AMG men in the old photograph, with that racer’s gleam in their eyes.

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