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    2023 Land Rover Defender 130 Tested: It's a Stretch

    The classic Land Rover Defender came in various sizes and shapes, so it’s in keeping with tradition that the new one should too. Upon its debut, the reborn Defender appeared both as the mainstay four-door 110 and the two-door 90—which is lesser in length but greater in charm. The Defender 110 does offer the option of a supplemental rear bench wedged into the cargo area, though it’s all but useless. To create a genuine three-row seating package required a third body style, and that’s what we now have with the taffy-stretched Defender 130.We’ve praised the current Defender’s design, which manages the not-so-easy feat of looking wholly modern and yet unmistakably kin to the off-road icon that first appeared in the 1940s. That sentiment applies both to the Defender 90 and the 110, but the 130’s extra length—it is 13.3 inches longer than the 110, 30.5 inches longer than the 90—throws off its proportions. (For some of us, it calls to mind the Jeep Grand Wagoneer L.) With the long rear overhang, one can almost imagine that opening the side-hinged cargo door and plopping a particularly heavy item onto the rear load floor could result in the Land Rover popping a wheelie. Marc Urbano|Car and DriverOf course, that would never happen, in part because the Defender itself is so heavy. At 5931 pounds, our Defender 130 is 158 pounds heavier than the last Defender 110 to cross our scales. The 130’s engine offerings are trimmed from the bottom and the top, which means there’s no turbo four and no V-8. Motivating this Land Rover’s mass, therefore, is one of two 3.0-liter six-cylinder engines: the 296-hp P300 and the 395-hp P400. In most cases, it’ll be the P400, which is in all but the lowest trim level. Land Rover Defender Tested!The turbo-boosted inline-six also features an electrically driven supercharger, which effectively combats turbo lag. There’s also a 48-volt motor-generator; despite its presence, restarts from the auto stop-start system could be snappier. The long-travel accelerator seems designed for careful modulation in delicate off-pavement situations, with a demure tip-in. Push past that, however, and this boosted six proves smooth and muscular. Working in concert with a superb ZF-built eight-speed automatic, it shrugs off the 130’s avoirdupois and proves more than up to the task of propelling our well-loaded example. Whereas a 2020 Defender 110 SE (with the same engine) needs 6.3 seconds to hit 60 and 14.8 seconds to power through the quarter-mile, this 130 charges to 60 mph in 6.2 clicks and shaves 0.2 seconds off the quarter-mile time. It’s also rated to tow 8200 pounds.Predictably, EPA estimates are grim at 17 mpg city and 21 mpg highway (with either engine), and in our 75-mph fuel-economy test, the XL Landie quaffed a gallon of premium every 19 miles. That sounds bad, but it’s actually 1 mpg better than our result with a Defender 110X with the same powertrain. We should note the 110X was equipped with the Explorer package that includes a roof rack, snorkel, and side-mounted gear carrier.HIGHS: Hauls the whole crew, sophisticated on-road demeanor, ready to cross Namibia.We didn’t have an opportunity to drive the Defender 130 in its natural environment—climbing the mountains of Nepal, say, or traversing the jungles of Borneo. Those who do travel in extremis will want to be mindful of their extra-long steed’s commensurately shallower departure angle—28.5 degrees versus 40.0 degrees for the 110—lest the larger Rover drag its bodacious booty on a rock. Otherwise, though, the 130 should be as capable as its siblings off-road. That is to say, very, as we discovered piloting a Defender 110 through the muck on Michigan’s Drummond Island. The standard all-wheel-drive system includes a two-speed transfer case, and the center differential is lockable. A locking rear differential is available as part of the $1500 Off-Road package. Ground clearance is 11.4 inches, and like its siblings the 130 can ford 35.4 inches of water.Marc Urbano|Car and DriverThe Defender 130 gets air springs, along with Land Rover’s Adaptive Dynamics, as standard. The sophisticated suspension keeps the ride from getting bouncy, and it effectively isolates passengers from broken pavement. The steering is pleasantly weighted and precise for such a serious off-roader, but when cornering, the Defender 130 feels every inch of its size and will have you slowing considerably for curves. At the track, the 130 recorded a modest 0.71 g of lateral grip. The Defender’s brake-by-wire system, which in the 2020 model we found difficult to modulate, brings no complaints this time around. The setup also proves highly effective in panic stops, hauling the Land Rover down from 70 mph in just 167 feet.LOWS: An ungainly profile, cargo space disappears with eight passengers, a powerful thirst for unleaded.None of the above is a great deviation from other Defender models. The big change here is the interior package: The 130 clearly was designed to accommodate three rows of seating. Its back bench has sufficient headroom and an additional 11.2 inches legroom for teens or even average-size adults, although foot room is tight. Split 40/20/40 or optionally 60/40, the seat has belts for three, which seems optimistic unless they’re all waifish models. Land Rover includes USB-C ports and even optional seat heaters back there, plus a supplemental sunroof, so it doesn’t feel too much like steerage. One other change from lesser Defenders is that the 130 doesn’t offer the unusual three-person front bench seat (which would have pushed total capacity to nine), nor can second-row captain’s chairs be had.Even with the extra-long body, with all seats deployed, passengers won’t be able to pack much more than a toothbrush and a change of underwear. Behind the rearmost seat there’s space for just three carry-on bags. In max-cargo mode, there’s 81 cubic feet of cargo space behind the front seats, which is only two cubic feet more than in the three-row Defender 110. That’s about as much as you’d find in a Nissan Pathfinder but less than in some other mid-sizers, such as the Hyundai Palisade, Chevrolet Traverse, or Volkswagen Atlas, and with the seats folded, the Land Rover’s load floor isn’t flat.As in its less lengthy stablemates, the Defender interior is ruggedly practical, featuring grab handles, durable-looking finishes, and numerous storage cubbies. Yet it manages to avoid seeming basic thanks to extensive padded surfaces. It’s distinctly different from other upscale SUVs. Marc Urbano|Car and DriverDistinctly different describes the Defender overall, and the pricing is certainly upscale. The 130 skips the steel-wheels stripper trim level and starts instead with the S, for $69,475, which is a premium of $9700 over the 110 S. From there, it climbs through SE, X-Dynamic SE, and First Edition trim levels to top out with the X, which retails for $101,375 before options. Beyond the extra spend, though, there aren’t many compromises to be made here. With the 130, Land Rover successfully stretches the Defender in size and capability.SpecificationsSpecifications
    2023 Land Rover Defender 130 First Edition Vehicle Type: front-engine, 4-wheel-drive, 8-passenger, 4-door wagon
    PRICE
    Base/As Tested: $86,175/$92,075 Options: 22-inch Gloss Sparkle Silver wheels, $2000; Towing Pack 2 (tow hitch receiver, advanced tow assist, configurable terrain response), $1850; Carpathian Grey paint, $1050; Cold Climate pack (heated windshield, washer jets, and steering wheel, headlight washers), $500; 60/40-split, heated third-row seat, $300; full-size spare, $200
    ENGINE
    supercharged, turbocharged, and intercooled DOHC 24-valve inline-6, aluminum block and head, direct fuel injectionDisplacement: 183 in3, 2996 cm3Power: 395 hp @ 6500 rpmTorque: 406 lb-ft @ 2000 rpm
    TRANSMISSION
    8-speed automatic
    CHASSIS
    Suspension, F/R: multilink/multilinkBrakes, F/R: 14.3-in vented disc/13.8-in vented discTires: Continental CrossContact LXHL275/45R-22 115W M+S LR
    DIMENSIONS
    Wheelbase: 119.0 inLength: 210.9 inWidth: 79.1 inHeight: 77.6 inCargo Volume, Behind F/M/R: 81/44/14 ft3Curb Weight: 5931 lb
    C/D TEST RESULTS
    60 mph: 6.2 sec1/4-Mile: 14.6 sec @ 97 mph100 mph: 15.7 sec130 mph: 33.6 secResults above omit 1-ft rollout of 0.4 sec.Rolling Start, 5–60 mph: 6.9 secTop Gear, 30–50 mph: 4.0 secTop Gear, 50–70 mph: 4.6 secTop Speed (gov ltd): 131 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 167 ftRoadholding, 300-ft Skidpad: 0.71 g
    C/D FUEL ECONOMY
    75-mph Highway Driving: 19 mpg75-mph Highway Range: 370 mi
    EPA FUEL ECONOMY
    Combined/City/Highway: 19/17/21 mpg More

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    2022 Hyundai Santa Fe PHEV Tested: Just Get the Regular Hybrid Instead

    In theory, plug-in hybrids combine the best elements of both gas- and battery-powered vehicles. Capable of traveling far distances with reasonable efficiency courtesy of their gas engines and electric motors, PHEVs also can manage short romps of emission-free driving by way of their relatively large-capacity battery packs (for a hybrid) that can be recharged via an external power source. By this logic, the Hyundai Santa Fe PHEV ought to make a prime candidate for today’s SUV-hungry consumers looking to enter the EV space without entirely abandoning the familiarity and reliable fueling infrastructure that comes with owning a gas-powered car. And yet this mid-size SUV, as both a gasoline-electric hybrid and an electric vehicle, manages to leave us wanting. Marc Urbano|Car and DriverBlame the fact that the plug-in’s powertrain provides no appreciable boost to fuel economy or performance over the regular Santa Fe hybrid and that the PHEV shares its core competencies with all other Santa Fe variants. So while it may be more complex, it’s not necessarily better than its more affordable hybrid counterpart.More MotorThe PHEV is the latest addition to the Santa Fe’s powertrain lineup, which also includes a hybrid and two gas-powered four-cylinder options (one naturally aspirated, the other turbocharged), and it alters the basic Santa Fe formula by adding a lithium-ion battery pack with 12.4 kWh of usable capacity. According to the EPA, this affords a battery-electric driving range of 31 miles. In our 75-mph highway fuel-economy test, we managed 29 miles before draining the battery.HIGHS: 31 miles of EV range, spacious interior, roomy cargo hold.Netting those engine-off miles, however, requires a delicate right foot. Even a light prod of the accelerator fires up the 178-hp turbocharged 1.6-liter four-cylinder engine. The PHEV’s 90-hp electric motor—although brawnier than the hybrid Santa Fe’s 59-hp unit—struggles to move the 4505-pound SUV on its own. Combined, the electric motor and the gas engine produce a total of 261 horsepower, enough to move the all-wheel-drive Santa Fe PHEV with acceptable aplomb. Accelerating to 60 mph requires 7.5 seconds, while the quarter-mile goes by after 15.7 seconds with a trap speed of 90 mph. Those figures mirror the Santa Fe hybrid’s results—the PHEV’s 261 pounds of additional mass compared to the hybrid largely negates its extra 35 horsepower. The PHEV did have a slight advantage in our passing-acceleration tests, though, beating the hybrid by 0.5 second from 30 to 50 mph and by 0.7 second from 50 to 70.Mileage MattersThe PHEV is not appreciably quicker than the regular hybrid, nor is it more economical—at least not in our hands. While the EPA estimates that the Santa Fe PHEV will average 32 mpg on the highway, 2 to 3 mpg more than the regular Santa Fe hybrid, in our 75-mph highway-fuel economy test, the PHEV returned just 25 mpg versus the Santa Fe hybrid’s 31 mpg. Marc Urbano|Car and DriverThe lack of a meaningful fuel-economy boost alone is arguably reason enough to bypass the Santa Fe PHEV in favor of the hybrid—then there is the aforementioned affordability factor. With a starting price of $47,305, a top-of-the-line 2022 Santa Fe PHEV Limited like our test example stickers for $5300 more than the equivalent Santa Fe hybrid, both with standard with all-wheel drive. We also experienced some drivability issues with the PHEV. Toeing the accelerator off the line often resulted in a split second of . . . nothing . . . while the powertrain works through how it wants to dole out propulsion. Similarly, we had issues with the pedal response from the blended brakes. There can be a slight delay or nonlinearity to the brake pedal. For most drivers, it wouldn’t be a big deal, but in an emergency situation, some could find it alarming. LOWS: Disappointing highway fuel economy, PHEV upcharge doesn’t pay off, undesirable input lag.Also irksome is the fact Hyundai fails to offer any adjustments for the SUV’s regenerative-braking system. Whereas many of the automaker’s other battery-powered models allow the driver to adjust this by way of steering-wheel-mounted paddles, the plug-in Santa Fe’s paddles serve the sole purpose of manually controlling its six-speed automatic transmission, which can be slow to downshift when left on its own.The PHEV is not without its positive attributes, but these are common to all Santa Fe models. The cabin benefits from ergonomic controls and myriad storage cubbies. The five-seat SUV also offers comfortable seating and a versatile cargo hold—the latter swallowed 13 carry-on bags behind the rear seats in our testing and 27 with the seats folded. Passenger accommodations are generous, even though the PHEV suffers a minute reduction in rear-seat legroom due to the battery pack’s underfloor location.Overall, the PHEV just doesn’t offer enough benefits over the regular Santa Fe hybrid, particularly given its extra cost. And Hyundai offers the Santa Fe PHEV only in California and the 10 other states (Colorado, Connecticut, Maine, Massachusetts, Maryland, New Jersey, New York, Oregon, Rhode Island, and Vermont) that have both adopted and enacted the California Air Resources Board’s zero-emissions-vehicle program. But car buyers who live elsewhere need not feel shortchanged. The cheaper, more efficient, and nationally available Santa Fe hybrid is the better choice anyway.SpecificationsSpecifications
    2022 Hyundai Santa Fe PHEV LimitedVehicle Type: front-engine, front-motor, all-wheel-drive, 5-passenger, 4-door wagon
    PRICE
    Base/As Tested: $47,305 /$47,515 Options: carpeted floor mats, $210
    POWERTRAIN
    turbocharged and intercooled DOHC 16-valve inline-4, 178 hp, 195 lb-ft + AC motor, 90 hp, 224 lb-ft (combined output: 261 hp; 12.4-kWh lithium-ion battery pack; 3.6-kW onboard charger)Transmission: 6-speed automatic
    CHASSIS
    Suspension, F/R: struts/multilinkBrakes, F/R: 12.8-in vented disc/12.0-in discTires: Continental CrossContact LX Sport235/55R-19 101H M+S
    DIMENSIONS
    Wheelbase: 108.9 inLength: 188.4 inWidth: 74.8 inHeight: 66.3 inPassenger Volume, F/R: 60/50 ft3Cargo Volume, Behind F/R: 72/36 ft3Curb Weight: 4505 lb
    C/D TEST RESULTS
    60 mph: 7.5 sec1/4-Mile: 15.7 sec @ 90 mph100 mph: 20.4 sec120 mph: 35.0 secResults above omit 1-ft rollout of 0.4 sec.Rolling Start, 5–60 mph: 7.5 secTop Gear, 30–50 mph: 3.8 secTop Gear, 50–70 mph: 4.7 secTop Speed (C/D est): 130 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 176 ftRoadholding, 300-ft Skidpad: 0.83 g
    C/D FUEL ECONOMY
    Observed: 27 MPGe75-mph Highway Driving, EV/Hybrid Mode: 76 MPGe/25 mpg75-mph Highway Range, EV/Hybrid mode: 29/310 mi
    EPA FUEL ECONOMY
    Combined/City/Highway: 33/33/32 mpgCombined Gasoline + Electricity: 76 MPGeEV Range: 31 mi
    C/D TESTING EXPLAINED More

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    First Ride: 2024 Chevrolet Corvette E-Ray Goes from Quiet to Riot

    Only a few months have passed since we first had our first serving of America’s track superstar, the Chevrolet Corvette Z06. Before we could even digest that dollop of greatness, Chevy is serving up dessert: the hybrid-powered, all-wheel-drive 655-hp Chevrolet Corvette E-Ray. And we can now tell you what it’s like to be in it, at least from the passenger’s seat. From 100 yards, the Corvette E-Ray could easily be mistaken for a Corvette Z06. It shares the same body as the track-focused Z06 and even its massive tires. But as the E-Ray approaches, it’s not to be confused with the shrieking 670-hp Z06. Aside from the externally amplified hum of the 160-hp electric motor that powers the front axle, the E-Ray rolls up nearly silent. That would be Stealth mode, a pure-electric mode that Chevrolet says can last up to five miles before the 1.1-kWh battery is empty, provided you’re delicate with the accelerator. Beyond 45 mph or with a big push of the right pedal, the 495-hp 6.2-liter V-8 crackles to life and seamlessly blends into the equation.A rainy and overcast January day would typically be the biggest letdown for showing off your new sports car, but for Chevrolet and the all-wheel-drive E-Ray, it’s a blessing. With Energy Integration engineer Stefan Frick behind the wheel initiating the launch control sequence—which now features rpm adjustability like the Z06—the V-8 gurgles and chugs with excitement. The E-Ray blasts off the line, the electric motor pulling while the rear tires scurry for traction. There’s a weird blend of pushrod V-8 roar and George Jetson’s Flying Car noise broadcasting through the cabin. Chevrolet claims the E-Ray will reach 60 mph in 2.5 seconds and cover the quarter-mile in 10.5 seconds, making it potentially the quickest Corvette to roll off the Bowling Green, Kentucky, production line. The electric motor exits the party at 150 mph, as that’s all its gearing will allow. Chevrolet claims the top speed is above 180 mph. Even though the E-Ray will flirt with 4000 pounds of mass, on a damp autocross course it proved to still have the moves. The enormous 275/30ZR-20 front and 345/25ZR-21 rear Michelin Pilot Sport All-Season tires find a surprising amount of lateral stability. Even when taxed by the standard carbon-ceramic brake rotors, the longitudinal deceleration is felt as the seatbelt tightens across the chest. You read that correctly: the E-Ray is the first car to come standard with both carbon-ceramic rotors and all-season tires. Oh, and those rear tires are the widest all-seasons known to man. For more grip, TPC-spec Michelin Pilot Sport Pilot 4S summer tires will be optional.Frick clips an apex and rolls on the power. In these damp conditions, a rear-drive Corvette would slip and slide across the asphalt. With the help of the driven front axle and brake-based vectoring to shuffle torque to the wheel that needs it the most, the E-Ray drives off the corner with a surprising amount of coordinated thrust. Chevrolet’s brilliant Performance Traction Management system is on deck and tuned specifically for the E-Ray. And though there’s not a specific Drift mode, we can confirm the electrified Corvette will hoon it with the best of them. We’re anxious to get our mitts on General Motors’ newest toy and get the test gear strapped to it when it arrives this fall, starting at $104,295 for the coupe and $111,295 for the convertible. More

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    2024 Porsche Cayenne Gets More Than Just a Facelift

    You’d be wrong to characterize the upcoming mid-cycle refresh of the 2024 Porsche Cayenne as a mere facelift, as it’s more of a heart-lung transplant in the form of significant changes to many of its powertrains. The engineering team has also given it hip and knee replacements in the form of meaningful tire and suspension tweaks. But these are not geriatric maintenance moves. They’re better thought of as bionic upgrades meant to advance the Cayenne’s state of being.Chassis ChangesBesides, the cosmetic facelift elements are impossible to judge. The prototypes we drove were effectively camouflaged with rattle-can black paint, bug-eyed headlight mascara appliques, and strategically taped-over taillights. The revised LED headlights and taillights are therefore hard to get excited about, but one key element did stand out through all of that. The Cayenne’s stance has been toughened up by larger-diameter tires. In off-roader terms they’re 31-inchers, which makes them just over an inch larger than before.More Cayenne pepperThe reasoning for this wasn’t enhanced off-road prowess, but rather a higher level of rolling comfort and mechanical grip owing to a larger contact patch. Although the base wheels go from 19s to 20s, many wheels are the same diameter as before, which not only means there’s more sidewall but that the tire assemblies also house more air, which in turn allows Porsche to earn compound interest by lowering tire pressures a smidge. Indeed, the prototypes stuck like Velcro yet largely filtered out the worst textures that the coarse and tortured asphalt of the tightest Malibu canyons had to offer.Partial credit goes one rung higher, as now even the base model comes standard with PASM adaptive dampers. Air-sprung Cayennes take it up another notch, with rethought springs that feature two chambers instead of three. This seeming deficit actually amounts to a step forward because the PASM dampers now have distinct rebound and compression adjustment valves, as opposed to the current single valve that attempts to regulate both. The result is much finer control and the ability to better optimize damping characteristics in response to given circumstances and the driver’s mode selection. Other tweaks include revisions to the rear-axle steering system for increased maneuverability and re-optimization of the rear torque-vectoring system for better dynamics.Revamped PowertrainsEven though the above updates matter more in day-to-day driving, the revitalized and revamped powertrains are the marquee difference here. Major changes were deemed necessary to meet the steady forward march of emissions regulations, but as is often the case with modern powertrains, the engine management strategies developed to burn the fuel more completely also tend to open the door for more power. Such is the case here.At the bottom of the range, the base Cayenne’s 3.0-liter turbo V-6 gets a 14-hp bump, making 349 horsepower instead of the current 335 ponies. The increase in torque is even more noticeable, with the jump from 332 to 369 pound-feet representing an 11 percent increase. Meanwhile, the twin-turbo V-8 powering the utterly-bonkers Turbo GT at the top of the food chain will soon make 651 horsepower instead of a mere 631. Its torque remains unchanged at 626 pound-feet, indicating a likely capacity limit for the carryover eight-speed Tiptronic S transmission.The biggest changes happen in the middle of the range. The Cayenne S, currently powered by an unloved 2.9-liter twin-turbo V-6 that makes 434 horsepower and 405 pound-feet, is returning to its V-8 roots. Its new short-stroke 4.0-liter twin-turbo V-8 puts out 469 horses and 443 pound-feet, which represents nearly 10 percent more of each. We could wax on about its impressive throttle response and easy passing power, but our more childish sensibilities are perfectly happy with its distinctive V-8 idle and the thunder it can send echoing off tunnel walls.Enhanced E-HybridMeanwhile, the Mr. Spock in us really likes what Porsche has done to the E-Hybrid, which is, in fact, a plug-in hybrid. Total combined power is up slightly, from 455 to 464 horsepower. The role of the detuned 3.0-liter turbo V-6 has been diminished, but there’s been a big boost in the strength of the electric half of the powertrain. The electric motor now contributes 174 horsepower instead of 134, and it’s supported by a significantly larger battery, now with 25.9 kWh of gross capacity instead of 17.9 kWh (roughly 20.6 kWh usable versus 14.3 kWh on the current E-Hybrid). A revised brake-blending system allows regenerative braking to persist all the way to a dead stop, and in our driving the E-Hybrid’s regenerative braking strength and smoothness indeed showed a marked improvement.PorscheThe goals for the revamp are improved electric-only range, expanded EV mode persistence, and better gasoline-engine mpg. We can’t speak to the efficiency, and new EPA ratings are not yet available. Porsche suggests it could earn double its WLTP range in Europe. Here in the U.S., the current electric range is just 17 miles. We’re not expecting to see that double, but we see 30 miles as a distinct possibility—enough to make the 2024 Cayenne E-Hybrid a much more credible PHEV. On top of that, it’ll have the capability to charge faster too, with a new standard on-board charger that’s rated at 11.0 kW instead of this year’s pitiful 3.6-kW standard unit and lackluster 7.2 kW upgrade that costs $1230.In-Cabin TweaksPorsche hasn’t left the interior out of all of this. The Cayenne will receive a new Taycan-inspired curved instrument panel and center display. The 12.7-inch instrument display is magnificent, and just beside it juts the Taycan’s toggle-style gear selector. A familiar 12.3-inch central touchscreen sits just to the right, but that’s where the Taycan inspiration thankfully runs its course. The vents just below are aimed manually, and below them is a fixed set of climate-control toggles set into a small glass panel, with a central volume knob set just aft.One of the things we appreciate most appears on the nicely contoured steering wheel, where the mode control dial you can currently only get by ordering Sport Chrono comes standard. Meanwhile, the passenger gets a 10.9-inch display of their own, which is angled and polarized so the driver can’t see it. The idea is to let the front passenger go as far as streaming video, but it’s not yet clear to us if that’ll pass muster with U.S. regulators. Another in-cabin highlight: The wireless cellphone charge pad is cooled.Pricing and the full gamut of specs won’t be released until the wraps come off and the 2024 Cayenne is formally introduced later this year. All Porsche will say at this point is the prices will be “on par with the predecessor model when adjusted for equipment.” This may be code for a possibly significant increase for the base Cayenne, which now gets standard PASM, LED matrix headlights, 20-inch wheels, the mode switch on the steering wheel, and other goodies. As for the Cayenne S, it’s a question of how much a V-8 transplant costs. And then there’s the E-Hybrid, whose new price will reflect its bigger battery, at the very least. Still, the bionically enhanced 2024 Porsche Cayenne should well be worth it, and it’s sure to cost far less than six million dollars, man. More

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    MegaRexx MegaRaptor: Pickup Colossus

    The MegaRaptor, a mutant Ford Super Duty pickup from MegaRexx, is big. How big? It’s so big, it disrupted international shipping for weeks after it got stuck in the Suez Canal. It’s so big, there’s snow on the roof that never melts. It needs rear-axle steering or a hinge in the middle. The turnkey base price is $135,000, and you’ll also want to budget for one of those wide-load pilot vehicles to drive a quarter-mile ahead and verify clearance for upcoming overpasses. Lifted diesel trucks, meet your new god. The MegaRaptor recipe calls for a Ford Super Duty diesel 4×4 (F-250, F-350, or F-450), a 4.0- or 4.5-inch suspension lift, bridge-girder-size MegaRexx radius arms, trophy-truck-style bodywork with a clamshell front end, military MRAP wheels, and 46-inch tires that weigh around 400 pounds per corner with their hub adapters. The final drive is regeared to a 4.88:1 ratio and the speedometer corrected. The resulting creation is surprisingly proportional. Like mountains and skyscrapers, the MegaRaptor requires some known frame of reference to visually communicate its enormity. Those flared fiberglass fenders add 16.0 inches of width. The floorboards are about three feet off the ground. Weight? It’s flirting with 10,000 pounds. But that’s okay because the tires are rated for 12,300 pounds. Each.View PhotosThe 46-inch MRAP tire on the MegaRexx Megaraptor pickup.Ezra Dyer|Car and DriverFortunately, a diesel-powered F-350—like the one hiding beneath all this chutzpah—is designed to haul, even when its payload is itself. You perceive the mass of the wheel-and-tire assemblies through the steering, and the brakes feel about like they would if there were a ton of concrete in the bed. But it’s surprisingly easy to adapt to MegaRaptor driving dynamics. Like 787 pilots and ship captains, you just plan your moves in advance. View PhotosThis is how you make 35-inch tires look like they belong on a Ford Festiva.Ezra Dyer|Car and DriverAaron Richardet, owner of MegaRexx, says the Ford Super Duty is so brawny in the first place that it lends itself to MegaRaptor treatment, even in F-250 guise. “There’s really no difference between an F-250 and F-350 except the springs, so our usual starting point is an F-250 Lariat,” he says. While MegaRexx will convert an owner’s truck, the upfitter usually just buys a new one and builds the whole thing—about 40 last year. (If you’re looking for stock Super Duty fenders, we know where you can find a few.) Richardet claims durability hasn’t been a problem thus far, despite the enormous wheel-and-tire assemblies. “Super Duties are overbuilt in the first place,” he says. “Ford doesn’t want grungy work trucks coming back in under warranty.” For the MegaRaptor-curious, we’d point out that while the F-250 and F-350 might be functionally similar, the F-450 comes with larger brakes.This MegaRaptor was purchased by an owner who drove it about 3000 miles and then sold it back to MegaRexx, possibly after tiring of the mountaineering required to climb in and out of the driver’s seat. As of now, it’s still for sale for $169,950. It has some mods: turbo, intercooler, a tune. There’s a power control knob to the left of the steering wheel that offers five positions, from stock to “possibly inadvisable.” Stock, in this case, means 475 horsepower and 1050 pound-feet of torque, enough to propel our truck-pull F-250 Tremor to 60 mph in 6.1 seconds, so the MegaRaptor feels quite quick enough without throwing any more fuel at it. One nice thing about the MegaRaptor is that you can back it up to your house and look down at your roof when you need to blow off the pine needles.In the most aggressive setting, it’ll bark those gigantic Michelins and shift hard enough to make you feel bad for the transmission. Plus, you’ll want to remember that the dials for handling and braking were turned in the opposite direction from the one for massive horsepower. There’s a reason you don’t see MRAPs at your local autocross. And if you ever do, that’s probably your signal to take an impromptu vacation at your nearest underground bunker.View PhotosBring your croupier’s stick to reach your cash at atms.Finley Dyer|Car and DriverDriving the MegaRaptor, you feel the eyes of the world upon you. Big-rig drivers peer over, surprised to see a pickup with the same driver’s seat H-point. Kids stare. Drivers of F-150 Raptors question their sanity. The MegaRaptor is a rolling eclipse. It makes every street one-way. One day, we saw a bird fly under it. This isn’t even a truck—it’s performance art that deconstructs the entire concept of trucks. In our unofficial MegaRaptor public opinion poll, half the people think it’s awesome. The other half thinks it’s ridiculous. They’re both right. More

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    Tested: 2023 Jeep Gladiator EcoDiesel Makes Its Case

    The 2023 Jeep Gladiator Overland diesel is not as quick as its gas-powered counterpart. You can’t get it with the manual transmission or full-time transfer case. The diesel model also weighs an extra 500 pounds and its maximum tow rating is lower than that of a gas-powered Sport S Max Tow. The Italian-built 3.0-liter diesel V-6 is louder than the 3.6-liter gas engine, both at idle and at 70 mph. It also adds a total of $4650 to the sticker price and requires fuel that, as of this writing, costs an extra $1.38 per gallon, on average. Oh, and there’s diesel exhaust fluid to think about because running out of that could leave you stranded. Now allow us to explain why maybe you should want one anyway.First of all, you’ll be unique. Most Gladiators are not diesels for reasons that attentive readers may have gleaned from the above paragraph. Moreover, most light-duty trucks no longer offer a diesel—Ford killed its 3.0-liter Powerstroke for the F-150, Ram axed the diesel option from the 1500, and General Motors banished the Chevy Colorado and GMC Canyon’s 2.8-liter Duramax in the 2023 redesign. This leaves the Gladiator and GM’s half-ton trucks, with their wonderful 3.0-liter straight-six, as the lone keepers of the oil-burning flame. For at least one more year anyway.Andi Hedrick|Car and DriverIf you’re a business owner, going with the Gladiator diesel may have tax advantages thanks to its heavy-duty axles, which vault its gross combined weight rating over the 6000-pound threshold where the IRS believes real work trucks dwell. Of course, the same can be said of gas-powered Rubicons, Mojaves, and Sport S Max Tow models, but we’re just pointing out that the diesel’s heavy-duty Dana 44s might confer benefits other than bragging rights. Please consult your CPA—colossal pumpkin assessor—to find out if any of that applies to you. We barely know how to use TurboTax.HIGHS: Casually powerful, great mileage, makes the right sounds for a truck.Best Pickups and More on the GladiatorBut speaking of turbos, the Gladiator’s 3.0-liter V-6 has one, which helps it belt out 442 pound-feet of torque between 1400 and 2800 rpm. Meanwhile, the naturally aspirated 3.6-liter gas V-6 makes only 260 pound-feet at a relatively stratospheric 4400 rpm. Looking at our test results, these engines appear evenly matched, with the gas Gladiator recording slightly quicker times in most contests. But the difference is in how they get there. The diesel Gladiator Overland chugs to 60 mph in 7.3 seconds without evidently trying. The gas Gladiator Overland can hit 60 mph in 7.2 seconds, but doing so will require multiple visits to its 6400-rpm horsepower peak, an exercise that feels decidedly sadistic. The diesel gets through the quarter-mile in 15.6 seconds at 87 mph. Which is also slightly in arrears of the gas model, but without the feeling that you’re trying to ride an extremely angry mule down the backstretch of the Breeders’ Cup.Andi Hedrick|Car and DriverThe diesel is a $4150 option, available on most trims and paired with the 8HP75 heavy-duty transmission that’s more commonly found behind V-8s. The 8HP75 is built by ZF in Germany and was a sneaky bargain prior to 2023, since Jeep added the same $2000 upcharge it applied to the U.S.-built 850RE that’s paired with the 3.6-liter. For 2023, though, the 8HP75 transmission costs $2500, bringing the total diesel spend to $4650. You can’t get the diesel on a base Sport or Mojave, but you can spec it on all the other trims, including the range-topping High Altitude model. And on the topic of high altitude, that’s where a Gladiator diesel will have another advantage over a gas model, thanks to its forced induction. At sea level, the 3.6-liter has the edge on horsepower (285 horses to the 3.0’s 260), but drive to Crested Butte and it’ll be a different story. Mountain folk—your preppers, off-the-grid hippies, overlanders, fugitives, and hermits—are going to want the diesel, trust us. Because, for another thing, the diesel offers more range despite its smaller fuel tank. The EPA rates the gas-powered automatic Overland at 19 mpg combined and the diesel at 24 mpg combined (28 mpg on the highway). We found the difference to be even more extreme, recording 14 mpg observed fuel economy in the gas Overland and 23 mpg in the diesel. The diesel Gladiator’s 75-mph highway fuel-economy result was also impressive at 27 mpg, six better than the gasser. Those numbers bolster the subjective expression that the gas engine is working hard in its everyday business while the diesel is relaxed and happy with its role as a truck engine. They also mean that despite the current price disparity between regular unleaded and diesel, the oil-burning Gladiator should gradually recoup its upfront cost. And we mean really gradually, like beyond-100,000-miles gradually, but if the gas vs. diesel price relationship returns to where it was a year ago, the Gladiator’s diesel powertrain would pay for itself in less than 60,000 miles (not counting the occasional swig of DEF). Or even fewer miles if you’re frequently towing. Plus, you can put your spark-plug budget toward the lift kit and bigger tires that the Overland needs to visually offset its wiener-dog proportions.LOWS: Not as quick as the gas version, expensive, noisier on the highway.Now, we did mention that the Gladiator diesel is noisier at idle and cruising speed, but at wide-open throttle, it’s much quieter—72 decibels to 77—which again points to its comportment. And the sounds it makes are cool, if you appreciate the determined clatter of compression ignition and the scree of a turbocharger working in concert with a fuel-injection system pressurized to 29,000 psi. It’s the aural signature of a truck that you hear before you see it, materializing out of a blizzard carrying tow straps and spare fuel cans like a Saint Bernard with a keg around its neck. Andi Hedrick|Car and DriverIf you hate that sound, then maybe the Gladiator diesel is not for you. This is, after all, a convertible body-on-frame pickup truck with solid axles and removable doors. In upscale Overland trim, it’s a caveman in business casual. It’s a freak, a collector’s item, the kind of pet project you’d expect Jeep to roll out at the Easter Jeep Safari and then forget about. The diesel might not be the engine most people get, but it’s the one a Gladiator ought to have.SpecificationsSpecifications
    2023 Jeep Gladiator Overland EcoDieselVehicle Type: front-engine, rear/4-wheel-drive, 5-passenger, 4-door pickup
    PRICE
    Base/As Tested: $53,025/$71,400 Options: Popular Equipment package (Trailer Tow package, McKinley-trimmed premium front seats, premium-wrapped instrument panel, full-length floor console, leather-wrapped shift knob and parking brake handle, rear sliding window, heavy-duty engine cooling, 240-volt alternator, black 3-piece hardtop), $4045; body-color 3-piece hardtop, $1895; LED Lighting group (LED headlights, fog lights, taillights), $1795; Safety group (rear park assist, blind-spot and cross-path detection), $1395; Cold Weather group (remote start, heated front seats, heated leather-wrapped steering wheel), $1345; Advanced Safety group (adaptive cruise control, auto high-beam headlights, advanced forward collision warning and brake assist), $1195; Trail Rail Management system (lockable rear underseat storage, exterior 115-volt AC outlet), $1095; Mopar hard tri-fold tonneau cover, $995; Forward-facing off-road camera, $795; Mopar hard-top headliner, $555; Mopar spray-in bedliner, $525; all-terrain tires, $495; Auxiliary Switch group, $495; Sarge Green paint, $495; Bluetooth wireless speaker, $445; Mopar trailer brake controller, $395; Mopar 3.0L Diesel hood graphic, $245; Mopar all-weather floor mats, $170
    ENGINE
    turbocharged and intercooled DOHC 24-valve diesel V-6, iron block and aluminum heads, direct fuel injectionDisplacement: 182 in3, 2987 cm3Power: 260 hp @ 3600 rpmTorque: 442 lb-ft @ 1400 rpm
    TRANSMISSION
    8-speed automatic
    CHASSIS
    Suspension, F/R: live axle/live axleBrakes, F/R: 13.0-in vented disc/13.6-in vented disc Tires: Bridgestone Dueler A/T255/70R-18 113T M+S
    DIMENSIONS
    Wheelbase: 137.3 inLength: 218.0 inWidth: 73.8 inHeight: 73.1 inPassenger Volume, F/R: 54/50 ft3Curb Weight: 5312 lb
    C/D TEST RESULTS
    60 mph: 7.3 sec1/4-Mile: 15.6 sec @ 87 mph100 mph: 22.2 secResults above omit 1-ft rollout of 0.3 sec.Rolling Start, 5–60 mph: 8.2 secTop Gear, 30–50 mph: 3.9 secTop Gear, 50–70 mph: 5.5 secTop Speed (gov ltd): 112 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 194 ftRoadholding, 300-ft Skidpad: 0.74 g
    C/D FUEL ECONOMY
    Observed: 23 mpg75-mph Highway Driving: 27 mpg75-mph Highway Range: 490 mi
    EPA FUEL ECONOMY
    Combined/City/Highway: 24/22/28 mpg
    C/D TESTING EXPLAINED More

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    1969 De Tomaso Mangusta Road Test: High Adventure

    From the November 1969 issue of Car and Driver.For the record, the de Tomaso Mangus­ta is mortal. It is a car assembled from workaday nuts, bolts, and aluminum cast­ings just like every other car. That is what it is for the record; for the driver, it is high adventure. You sit low in the Mangusta, almost on the floor, in a bucket seat that allows no choices of posture. You stretch out for the tiny wood-and-leather steering wheel, while pale luminescent needles waver across seven black dials. The vast windshield sweeps back from the cowl to almost touch your forehead, and just behind your neck is a flat bulkhead, to block out the sound from the engine compartment but not rear vision. You are aware of heat, partly emotional and partly mechanical, and a murmur of the exhaust filters into the tightly sealed cockpit as the Mangusta skims nervously over the pavement. That is the visual and tactile Mangusta—but only a few can drive it, and only those few will ever know that the driver’s nerve endings do not contact absolute automotive perfection. More 1960s Vehicular IconsBut anyone can watch—if only happy circumstance puts him in the right place at the right time—and to the beholder, the Mangusta’s mortal internals are of insig­nificant consequence. Rather than merely seeing a car go by, he is a witness to its pass­ing, the Greek-like simplicity and beauty of its shape are stunning, and more often than not he is transfixed. It is only a car, to be sure, but its appearance is so powerful that it alters the life path of its driver and any­one else who falls within its magnetic field. Our experience within the first 24 hours couldn’t have been just coincidence. As we were parking, a young lady in a Pontiac suddenly realized she was terribly lost and wandered over for directions, consolation, and to show us she wore no ring on the third finger of her left hand. Only moments later a police car screeched to a halt and backed up beside the illegally parked Mangusta. And then something that never happens happened. The cops—caught up totally in their vision—forgot to write a ticket. Only a few short hours later we had an invitation home to dinner from a remote business ac­quaintance—and why not? Having the Mangusta parked in your driveway is the next best thing to the entire Presidential motorcade. To 12-year-old boys it looms as a promise of the future—a Tomorrowland bustling with sleek forged-alloy and stain­less steel machines. To 12-year-olds the Mangusta is clearly irresistible. They will dream about it and in dreaming fasten upon it, and their legacy will be a layer of finger­prints that J. Edgar Hoover couldn’t unravel in a year. Benyas-Kaufman|Car and DriverSuch is the power of the de Tomaso Man­gusta, the power to make its driver an en­vied and emulated man wherever he goes. And, in a day of convenient mind expanders that can be either smoked or swallowed, the Mangusta acquires its stimulant-like quali­ties from a legitimate source—the drawing board of Giorgetto Giugiaro (C/D, Febru­ary, 1969), an automotive stylist whose rejects would be instant hits in Detroit. As other cars exist because of certain speciali­ties—the Ferraris because of their excellent mechanicals, Detroit cars in general be­cause they offer more convenience-per-dol­lar than anything else in the world, and Volkswagens because somehow they seem like the most car for the minimum cash out­lay—the de Tomaso Mangusta exists be­cause it is the most beautiful car in the world. Moreover, it is close enough to being a real car that it must be judged on its automotive qualities as well as its looks. We have said that the Mangusta exists for the beauty of its shape, and yet the chassis is something of a masterpiece in its own right.You will remember that the Mangusta has a first name—de Tomaso. Alessandro de Tomaso is an Argentinian of just over 40 years, an automotive innovator who has proven to be his own worst distraction when it comes to honing his ideas down to the point where they are suitable for pro­duction. His 10 years as a car builder have been punctuated with racing formula cars, building show cars, and producing some few, like the Vallelunga. In retrospect, how­ever, it can be said that de Tomaso has done little to aggravate the world’s traffic prob­lem. Still, fortunes change, and de Tomaso’s outlook took a sharp upward turn in 1967. At that time, through some near Balkan financial manipulations, an American firm, Rowan Industries, Inc., bought the faltering Italian coachbuilder, Ghia, and de Tomaso was named president—a perhaps not-so­-strange coincidence since Mrs. de Tomaso is closely related to several high officials at Rowan. It wasn’t long after this that the Mangusta, which first appeared at the Turin Show in 1966, began to show signs of be­coming a production car, even though pro­duction didn’t start in earnest until the fall of 1968. Now bodies are built in Turin on chassis from de Tomaso’s Modena plant. We have said that the Mangusta exists for the beauty of its shape, and yet the chassis is something of a masterpiece in its own right. Of course, it is a mid-engine lay­out. No car could have so little overhang and taper down to its ends like that and still have an engine of any size anywhere but in the middle. The frame is a backbone ar­rangement (which de Tomaso has pio­neered) and is singularly responsible for making the Mangusta about as habitable as any 43-inch high automobile could ever be. All of the car’s structure through the passenger compartment is a rectangular sec­tion—about elbow high and 10 inches wide—which doubles as a console. This means that there are no broad structural sills to crawl over and the bottom of the door opening is almost at floor level—all very easy for going ashore or deplaning or disembarking. Just behind the backbone, the frame branches out into rectangular steel tubing members to surround the engine and provide attaching points for the rear sus­pension. Benyas-Kaufman|Car and DriverAll of the suspension, but particularly the rear, is done up very much like a Can­Am car. With the exception of the front lower arms all of the suspension members are fabricated of tubing with adjustable, weather-sealed spherical ball ends at the pivots. Sliding spline halfshafts are used at the rear. The Mangusta’s suspension offers a particular lesson to those who ac­cuse Detroit of using too much rubber. The Mangusta has none, and traveling over tar strips and on certain road surfaces is enough to prompt unknowing passengers to inquire with some urgency as to the source of all that noise. Fortunately, the road noise is of such a frequency that it doesn’t seri­ously interfere with conversation or listen­ing to the radio, but it can be very annoying if that sort of thing gets to you. Engine noise, always thought to be a problem in mid-engine cars, is no more apparent in the Mangusta than in a conventional front­-engine sports car. Just behind the passenger compartment is a dead-stock Ford 302-cubic-inch 4-bbl. V-8 rated at 230 horsepower, the same engine that was optional on Mustangs in 1968. In Eu­ropean Mangustas you can have an exten­sively modified 289, but the U.S. emission laws preclude that sort of frivolous consumption here. The only visible attempt to squeeze a bit more power out of the U.S. version is a set of streamlined, short-branch exhaust headers that feed through very short exhaust pipes to a pair of dual-outlet mufflers just behind the rear suspension. The radiator is mounted up front and the coolant pipes pass through the cockpit at the bottom of the backbone. At low speeds you can occasionally hear water gushing through the tubes, a bit of audio entertain­ment denied you in your everyday front­-engine exotica. A manually-switched elec­tric cooling fan is provided for traffic situa­tions.Space has been allotted carefully in the Mangusta and it shows. The spare tire is stowed over the transaxle in the rear, and the battery is mounted in the extreme right rear corner.One of the more serious problems with mid-engine cars that use front-engine-car engines is the location of the normal en­gine-driven accessories like the alternator, air pump for exhaust emission control, and the air conditioning compressor. You can make the wheelbase long and leave the ac­cessories on the front of the engine in the conventional fashion, or you can try to keep the wheelbase to a reasonable length and move the pumps and things somewhere else. De Tomaso has chosen the latter. The Man­gusta’s wheelbase is 98.0 inches, the same as the Corvette. The only room left for the pumps and alternator is at the rear of the block where they are belt-driven from a jackshaft that runs back along the top of the intake manifold. Engineering problems like this tend to amplify the difficulty of designing a successful mid-engine passenger car. No one dis­putes that a mid-engine location provides favorable weight distribution for a racing car but, at first, the location of the engine entirely within the wheelbase in a car that is supposed to carry passengers and luggage seems like an irresponsible luxury. But think about it for a while. Any front-engine sports car that even approaches 50/50 weight distribution has its motor entirely behind the front-wheel centerline. The problem, then, simply becomes one of which end of the engine do you want the driver to sit on. In either case, you can only push him so far forward or so far aft until he is up against the wheelhouses, and this actually favors the mid-engine car because he can angle his feet in slightly to miss the front wheel space. The Mangusta makes an excellent case for the mid-engine concept. Admittedly, the engine accessibility is difficult, but there is as much usable room for the driver and passenger in every direction but up, and as much luggage space as there is in a Corvette, and the Corvette is a full 14 inches longer. Space has been allotted carefully in the Mangusta and it shows. The spare tire (same size as the fronts) is stowed over the transaxle in the rear, and the battery is mounted in the extreme right rear corner. Between the right rear wheel and the pas­senger seat, flanking the engine, is the gas tank and a like-size space on the driver’s side is open for cargo. The real trunk is up front, a highly irregular-shaped compart­ment since frame members intrude in vari­ous spots, but enough for a reasonable quantity of luggage nonetheless. Benyas-Kaufman|Car and DriverOf course, all the luggage space in the world isn’t much consolation if you can’t fit into the cockpit, and if you are much over six-feet tall it’s going to be a problem. Legroom is plenty good enough, even though you’re obliged to point your limbs in toward the center of the car, but it’s your head that will get you every time. The driver’s seat in the test car had been low­ered for a bit more clearance, but on the passenger’s side, a 6-footer’s head would rub on the roof. Part of this clearance problem stems from the Mangusta’s erect driving position—a sharp contrast to other mid­-engine cars like the Lotus Europa and the Ford GT Mk III. However, the Mangusta has a great advantage over the other two in ease of entry and exit, since a reclining seat requires that the steering wheel be brought so far toward the driver that it is difficult to slide out from under. Once you are in you’re immediately con­fronted by a miniature wood-rim steering wheel that is leather covered in the two sections where you are expected to grab a hold. The instrument panel has a gauge for everything you can imagine, all round, white-on-black Veglias marked in English, but most of the smaller ones are obscured by the plump steering wheel rim. In the Italian exotica tradition, there is an endless row (seven, actually) of toggle switches to summon every genie in the house. None of them can do anything about the most seri­ous navigational problem of all, however, rear visibility. The Mangusta turns out to be one of those cars in which you pick a lane and drive in it until you have some very strong reason to do otherwise. The rear quarters are completely blind (the test car had no outside mirrors) and the inside mirror sees very little more than the rib that runs down between the two rear windows. Those stiff of neck will find the inside mir­ror a challenge in itself, since it’s on about the same latitude as the end of your nose and you have to turn your head almost completely sideways to see it. Visibility isn’t the only factor that takes the edge of pleasure off of driving the Mangusta. The hydraulically-operated clutch is very stiff, although the pedal travel is com­mendably short, and the accelerator oper­ates a cable throttle linkage that feels as though it’s been lubricated with gravel. Since the five-speed ZF transaxle is clear at the rear of the car, the linkage is necessarily remote and loses most of its accuracy in the process. The lever moves through a chrome-plated maze in the console with the top four speeds in an H-pattern and first gear to the left rear, outside the H. Almost invariably the system hangs up between first and second, and it takes a hefty push against a strong spring to engage fourth or fifth. To give you an idea of the closeness of the transmission ratios, third and fifth in the ZF are almost exactly the same spread as third and fourth in the close­-ratio Corvette box—so you can see that fourth in the Mangusta is really splitting hairs. If the Mangusta is meant to do anything it is meant to handle well, and its capabilities are certainly well above anything that can be used in polite traffic.Performance of the Mangusta is modest for several reasons. Even though the car weighs only 2915 pounds the stock 302 Ford V-8 was never known for its muscles. Partly because of the air pump and partly because of what felt like fuel starva­tion, this particular Ford was all done be­fore 5000 rpm, and the best times were obtained by shifting at 4700. With all of these handicaps, a lethargic engine and a difficult shifter, 15.0 seconds at 91 mph in the standing quarter was the best the Man­gusta could do. Braking didn’t set any records either. Four-wheel disc brakes are used with vac­uum assist but pedal pressure is still high. With more than 62 percent of the total weight on the rear wheels, they were the last to lock up, but it still took 297 feet (0.72 g) to stop from 80 mph. Even though the stops were made in a very orderly, straight-line manner, fade was apparent and the brake pedal bottomed out on the third try. We aren’t sure why the Mangusta doesn’t stop quicker but it’s barely adequate as it is. If the Mangusta is meant to do anything it is meant to handle well, and its capabilities are certainly well above anything that can be used in polite traffic. To help contend with the rearward weight bias, tire capacity is also biased toward the rear with 185 HR-15 Dunlop SPs on 7-inch wide wheels in front and 225 HR 15s on 8-inch wide wheels at the rear. Since this test, except for the acceleration and braking phases at Detroit Dragway, was conducted entirely on public roads, some restraint was necessary in eval­uating the handling. Early impressions with the tires inflated equally all around are that the Mangusta corners with much higher rear slip angles, which is to say a larger drift angle, than is normally found in a car wearing radial-ply tires. Further evaluations produced distinct oversteering tendencies with power, and the 4.5 turns lock-to-lock steering ratio makes for tardiness in trying to stay ahead of the wide swinging tail. (In­flating the rear tires to a higher pressure than the fronts would be helpful in obtain­ing a better balance.) So stiff are the anti­-sway bars, both front and rear, that no mat­ter what gymnastics we put the Mangusta through we were never aware of any body roll angle whatsoever. Even though the car is fairly sensitive to driver technique, we were cornering very rapidly, and there is no doubt that the Mangusta is capable of very high lateral acceleration rates. The de Tomaso Mangusta is a car assembled from workaday nuts, bolts, and aluminum casting just like every other car. That is what it is for the record; for the driver, it is high adventure.Mid-engine location and Group 7- style suspension notwithstanding, it is to the man who likes intricate hand-built cars that the Mangusta will have the greatest appeal. Workmanship varies from good to excel­lent. All of the sheet metal, including the aluminum trunk lid and engine covers, which fold up like butterfly wings, is per­fectly formed, and the silver paint was of show-car quality. Inside, the leather upholstery is simply and smoothly done with the bonus of a delicious hide smell that no liv­ing cow even suspected it was capable of. Then there are the little touches that you have to look for, like the complicated spring-and-lever device to hold the door open at full swing which works smoothly if not very well. And behind the instrument panel, under the clutch and brake master cylinder, which are located inside the cock­pit, are, get this, sponge-covered trays to catch any leaks before they drip on your trouser legs. De Tomaso scores high with an eye toward the inevitable. Unfortunately, some of the more crucial devices aren’t quite so well worked out. In low-speed operation, particularly with the cooling fan and air conditioning on, the battery finds itself in a deficit spending sit­uation which it will tolerate for only the shortest of terms. At one point during the test, we had to enlist the aid of two highly paid photographers to push the Mangusta over to the edge of a hill so we could coast down to get it started. The problem appears to be a slow pulley ratio for the alternator drive since the system doesn’t start to charge until about 1300 rpm. The Mangusta’s air conditioning reminds us of a conversation with Peter Monteverdi when he was being criticized about the amount of space the air conditioner occu­pied in the console of his new four-seater 375L. “All of the other European manufac­turers can keep their air conditioners pretty much out of sight, so why can’t you?” was the essence of our rude question. He nodded, smiled broadly and said through his interpreter, “It’s true that you can’t see the others, but you can’t feel them either.” That certainly describes the Mangusta. The vast, sloping windshield makes the cockpit very much like a radiant hot dog cooker and the occupants are the hot dogs. The air conditioner can barely keep up with the heat coming in through the glass, not to mention that generated by the engine and the general warmth of the day. All of this is little wonder when you see the .049 McCoy-size compressor hanging off the engine. Just to see if these problems were chronic we called Kjell Qvale, an irascible West Coast car merchant who, behind the shingle of British Motor Car Distributors. Ltd., is the American importer of the Mangusta. He was quick to agree that the air condi­tioner was a joke but explained that there had recently been a change from a Tecum­seh compressor (which was used in the test car) to a higher capacity York which made a significant improvement. He also allowed as how some reshuffling of the alternator drive pulleys had revitalized the electrical system. We hope he is right. Those of you who think of the Mangusta as a rare commodity are in for a surprise. Qvale claims to have brought 130 cars into the U.S. since last fall, roughly half of the total production and expects to con­tinue in at least this volume until the ex­emption from the federal safety standards expires in 1971. Right now the Mangusta doesn’t meet any of the standards and there is a plaque to that effect, signed by de Tomaso himself, in the trunk. In fact, the car doesn’t even have seat belts, which is inexcusable, no matter what exemptions are invoked. As a car the Mangusta has character, but it is hardly what you would call gentle on either mind or body. It does, however, pre­sent an opportunity to pick up a brilliantly contemporary piece of automotive sculp­ture for only $11,500. There are other cars we would rather drive but none we would rather be seen in.SpecificationsSpecifications
    1969 De Tomaso MangustaVehicle Type: mid-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 2-passenger, 2-door coupe
    PRICE
    Base/As Tested: $11,500/$11,685Options: AM/FM radio, $185.
    ENGINEpushrod V-8, iron block and headsDisplacement: 302 in3, 4950 cm3Power: 230 hp @ 4800 rpmTorque: 310 lb-ft @ 2800 rpm 
    TRANSMISSION5-speed manual
    CHASSIS
    Suspension, F/R: control arms/control armsBrakes, F/R: 11.5-in solid disc/11.0-in solid disc
    DIMENSIONS
    Wheelbase: 98.4 inLength: 168.3 inWidth: 72.0 inHeight: 43.3 inCurb Weight: 2915 lb
    C/D TEST RESULTS
    60 mph: 6.3 sec1/4-Mile: 15.0 sec @ 91 mph100 mph: 18.7 secBraking, 80–0 mph: 297 ftRoadholding: 0.72 g 

    C/D FUEL ECONOMY
    Observed: 14–16 mpg
    C/D TESTING EXPLAINED More

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    From the Archive: 1992 Ferrari 512TR Epic Cross-Country Road Trip

    From the August 1992 issue of Car and Driver.Blue skies, 75 degrees, zero humidity in Cypress, California. This is the site of Ferrari’s West Coast office. And the new 512TR—which needs to be delivered to New Jersey—is already hors de combat. “Cold-start problems,” explains a Ferrari technician. This is a little like being told your polar Ski-Doo expedi­tion is canceled on account of snow. I make use of the two-day delay to get an amusing and detailed trans-America itinerary from Mike Wilkins, an author of The New Roadside America. This book should be manda­tory equipment in every car, like a spare tire (see following paragraph). The Ferrari 512TR wears eighteen-inch tires. No other production car on the planet is so equipped, and this vehi­cle has been engineered to carry no spare. What if a tire blows chunks in Fairy, Texas? Here is what the owner’s manual advises: “In order to ensure safe travel, it is imperative that the tires are kept in an excellenition…the tire ages event if it is used or not used at all.” At first this confused me, but the text later cleared it all up: “Then the front and rear mudguards are screwed, and the hoods, made up of aluminum (anticorodal).” That was pretty much what I had been thinking. OneTo Tucson on day one, where I put the Ferrari to bed—removing it from pub­lic view by wrapping it in a snug, felt-lined cover with side pockets the size of adoles­cent basset hounds to swallow the mirrors. The next morn, I do not have cold-start problems because I do not have a battery with a single erg of cranking power.Car and DriverYoung Bran Riggs (“Bran, like the cereal,” he says), whom I meet standing at the cashier’s desk in the hotel lobby, vol­unteers to push in return for a ride. Push? Pushing is not one of our options: this Ferrari is twelve pounds heavier than a Cadillac Sedan de Ville. We locate jumper cables. After ten minutes of Siamese hookup, I demonstrate to Riggs—merely for the purpose of effecting immediate alternator recharge of the battery—65 mph in second gear in downtown Tucson. Bran, like the cereal, asks if he can get out. TwoIf you care to look, you will find a Titan ICBM silo south of Tucson. Even if you do not care to look, the Russians still do, overflying the Green Valley site via satellite every 30 minutes or so. Before descending into the silo, you learn that a launched missile pokes first through the stratopause 30 miles up, then at 50 miles pierces the mesopause, where it gets cranky and irritable. My guide, spiel con­cluded, follows me to the lot to examine the Ferrari. He says, “Guy here yesterday in a 1927 Lamborghini, you should have seen it.” ThreeNext morning, near Nogales, battery again DOA. Another jumpstart, this one costing actual cash. I learn that the electric fan in front of the air-conditioner con­denser no longer recalls how to relax. I must remember before going to bed to yank its relay. I forget this instantly. FourEast of Tucson, on I-10 near Benson, I connect with a quintessentially American roadside attraction, housed in a tin ware­house painted in broad stripes—yellow, red, and blue. Here, at the home of “The Thing?,” I find pecan logs as big as night­sticks and a vast array of rattlesnake earrings, tarantulas in Lucite, bolo ties (“variations on a turquoise theme,” intones the clerk), and rattlesnake eggs (“Keep in a cool place to prevent hatching”). “The Thing?” itself costs 75 cents to view and includes supporting acts: a Graham-Paige truck, a 1937 Rolls-Royce, a 1932 Buick, and an exhibit depicting ancient methods of torture. This diorama includes a brawny male wax figure wear­ing Pampers who is stretched in agony on a rack, alongside a slatternly brunette with a suggestively slit skirt who is being flogged. Viewing for the whole family. After the Ferrari was used as a Red Roof Inn, its cockpit quickly filled with debris.John Phillips|Car and DriverThe main exhibit, “The Thing?,” is a desiccated corpse in a coffin set amid a motif of hanging driftwood fashioned to resemble the last twenty seconds of George Custer’s life. The question mark after “The Thing?” is nowhere explained, nor will you feel compelled to have it explained. Departing in the midday Arizona sun, the Ferrari briefly triggers its SLOW DOWN warning lamps, which glow men­acingly if you overburden the catalysts with sustained and felonious velocities. A queer warning from machinery whose pur­pose is to deliver speed sufficient to earn its operator a sentence of 300 hours of community service. FiveI make it that night to Mesilla, New Mexico, check into the La Quinta Inn, and examine the northern end of the bed for eight hours without having first defused the Ferrari. This gives me, in the parking lot the next morn, yet another opportunity to introduce myself to fellow travelers who possess jumper cables. Mesilla, once the capital of both Arizona and New Mexico, was a stop on the Butterfield Overland Trail from St. Louis to San Francisco—a forerunner to the Pony Express. The plaza contains the oldest brick building in New Mexico and the courthouse in which Billy the Kid was sentenced to hang. Maybe. It is insanely quaint—the average American’s notion of what a Mexican village should resemble minus scabby upholstery salesmen and diseased cats.SixHead north from Las Cruces on Route 70 through the middle of the White Sands Missile Range (where the army often stops traffic for fear something seek­ing heat might seek it in the engine bay of Aunt Ethel’s Winnebago) and you land on the steps of the International Space Hall of Fame, in Alamogordo. Visit the burial site of Ham the Astrochimp, a fetching primate who uneventfully but quite involuntarily plunged through the mesopause himself in 1961. A fiberglass replica of Ham suggests his legs were severed and he was fitted with Howard Cosell’s hairpiece. It is in Alamogordo that one of the burning issues of our time has been wres­tled to Earth’s crust: How, exactly, does one boldly go where no man has gone before? On display here is the answer, a Skylab commode, complete with instruc­tions: “Pulling up gate valve control acti­vates slinger motor…slinger tines shred feces and deposit it in thin layer on com­mode walls.” This sounds pretty much what I might have done if, like Ham, I had been plunged moonward without consent. It also explains the NASA pejorative, “You are a slinger.”John Phillips|Car and DriverSevenAt the Texas border, the 512TR and I grimace through a body-shuddering crow impact,­ this despite the car’s heavy but precise steering, which is much like that in an Acura NSX. I jinked to miss what this football-size scavenger was eating—looked like javelina entrails—and the crow jinked to miss the incoming red Ferrari. Self-canceling jinks. I stop. There is no sign of the Ferrari’s AC condenser having eaten crow, although there is a fairly complete and graphic display of javelina gastrointestinal subassemblies in the right-front wheel well. I skip looking in there too closely, on the theory that a 140-mph burst will deliver a ground-effects cleansing. It does. And it gives me cause to listen to the Ferrari achieve its 7300-rpm redline in four gears. As Joe Bob Briggs says, “We are talking serious chop sockey, here.” The 512TR produces 421 hp at 6750 rpm, a 41-hp increase over the TR it replaces, thanks largely to higher-com­pression pistons. The new car punches through the quar­ter-mile in 13.0 seconds at 110 mph, ver­sus the old TR’s 13.3 at 107. From dead rest to 60 mph requires five seconds flat­—no improvement. If you keep track of such things, that is 0.6 second longer than required by a Lamborghini Diablo or a Porsche 911 Turbo. The 512TR could probably crack off consistent 4.8-second 0-to-60 sprints (the acceleration the factory asserts, in fact) were it not for the lollygagging you must invest in the byzantine upshift to second gear. Ferrari cannot bear to part with the anachronistic plastic eight-ball shift knob, held skyward at the tip of a spindly metal pole that juts out of a hedge-trimmer maze of aluminum teeth and gates. The 512TR now fetches $212,160. This is without a radio. This is without a spare. This is $84,000 more than I owe for my home, although an ex-sewage com­missioner’s house will not circulate a skidpad at 0.92 g (more grip than a 911 Turbo) without kitchen cutlery flying out of drawers. Downtown Comudas, Texas, population “five or six.”John Phillips|Car and DriverEightEast of El Paso on Route 62/180, is Comudas, Texas, population “five or six.” A motel, two working gas pumps, and a cafe. That is all. A time warp, a Scorsese movie set. The outdoor restrooms are next to a garden prominently posted, “Keep out of cactus,” suggesting that tourists daily frolic pantsless in the spiny ocotillo.NineRoute 62/180 is one of Texas’s great. Straight, unmolested country two-lanes, shadowed by buttes and mesas and purple table-top hummocks that lead an ever-upward march to Guadalupe Peak at 8751 feet—the highest point in Texas. In this region raged the El Paso Salt War of 1877. I aim south on Route 54, along whose kelly-green edges are few traces of civilization and whose 55-mile length the Ferrari and I traverse in, it looks like 20 minutes, at an average clip of 4500 rpm in fifth gear, the speedometer having been painstakingly positioned so that its operator will not be distracted by the digits between 40 and 120 mph. Here the Ferrari and I enter the Central Time Zone at a speed that might convert more readily to Greenwich Mean Time. And here I find the sort of driving and scenery that cause men to abandon their Franklin Planners to stare doe-eyed at roadhouse waitresses named Winona Rae. TenThen back to the real world. At the end of Route 54 and the intersection of I-10 is Van Horn, Texas, a place with all the charm of Sam Kinison’s car wreck. Darkness is falling. I take what is intended to be an hour-long nap, wrapping myself mummy-style in the Ferrari’s Gore-Tex cover. I awake not 60 minutes later but seven hours later in an Olympic sweat as the Texas sun uncorks an unignorable solar broadside. I am more or less left crip­pled by this experience, but it seems prob­able that I emerge the first sentient being to spend a wholly wakeless night in a Ferrari 512TR. (Fine, write Ed. if you’ve already done it.) Car and DriverThat I could even daydream in this car, never mind sleep, says something about its spaciousness. This is no optical illusion. The 512TR is 3.5 inches wider than Mercedes’s beefiest megacruiser, the 600SEL. It also says something about the seats, which are among the world’s most comfortable for twelve-hour days of potentially weary wheelwork. These seats are as pliable as an armadillo, and they offer only two adjustments. Just like the seats in the Acura NSX, which are possi­bly the best in the known universe. There is a lesson here. ElevenIn the Fort Stockton, Texas, ceme­tery, a few yards from Paisano Pete (world’s largest roadrunner), lie the remains of Sheriff A.J. Royal, who, like another A.J. from this very state, ran his affairs with suffi­cient lone-star bullheadedness that veins in the foreheads of most townsfolk began to bulge. Six locals met secretly in November 1894 to draw beans (no straws available), and the sheriff shortly thereafter showed up for work one morning fatally and seriously dead. Bad luck, but it did earn A.J. a tombstone—a surpassing rarity in those days—on whose face remains the as-yet­-uneroded epitaph, “Assassinated.” TwelveHead east on I-10 and a little north through brown, scrubby Texas Hill Country and you find Iraan, just a few miles past a sign that says, “Caution, poi­son gas produced in this area.” Like the real Iran. Iraan is home to the Marathon Oil Discovery well, tapped in 1926 by I.C. Yates, a revelation that encouraged the great Texas oil boom. Yates (most likely kin to Assassin Brock) had never heard of a country called Iran. He simply invented the town’s label by combining his first name, Ira, and his wife’s, Ann. He might have withdrawn that familial contraction had he known that Iraan would later be better known as the birth­place of the Alley Oop comic strip—now commemorated by Kenworth-size con­crete likenesses of Mr. Oop and “Dinny, his pet dinosaure [sic],” which someone has evidently erected without permission in the town park.Easy parking in Hico, TexasJohn Phillips|Car and DriverThirteenBlaze 225 miles east to the Buckhorn Museum, appropriately attached to the Lone Star Brewery. Here is how to find it: Drive to that section of San Antonio where Monte Carlo lowriders cruise not with vinyl but with shag carpet­ing glued to their roofs. The Buckhorn Museum features an extensive collection of stuffed animals with an expansive range of deformities—an elk with “freak antler growth,” a “deer with diseased antler,” lamps made of deer limbs, a tribute to “a totally blind hunter,” and a squirrel perma­nently coiled in its most deadly poised-to-­strike pose, just moments before a Texan gunned it into segments so minute that only a veteran taxidermist could reassem­ble the rodent, using extensive diagrams and drawings. To be fair, the Buckhorn Museum is not all antlers. It includes the Hall of Fins and the History of Barbed Wire, although I bypass both when a Baptist school bus disgorges 30 third-graders next to the Ferrari, into whose right door lock one enterprising young Baptist is urgently wedging an impressive quantity of Gummy Bears. By the fifth day, I am exasperated by the attention the Ferrari draws. Knots of gawkers during refueling. Mini riots on the main streets of villages, where one cop asks, “You planning to move soon, cause there’s going to be a wreck or something.” North of San Antonio, exiting Interstate 35 for a rest, I am followed by two onlook­ers whose cars flank the Ferrari like pilot fish. Both drivers get out and follow me into the restroom. They deliver rapid-fire interrogation as I stand before the urinal. “How much?” “How fast?” “Where you headed?” “How’d you get this job?” As I exit the outhouse­—walking briskly past a stallion that a cowboy is leading through the pet-exercise area—a bystander blurts, “How much do you make?” By the sixth morning, I learn to wrap the car in its cover within 120 sec­onds of arrival in any parking lot. Driving a 512TR affords a grim glimpse of what it is like to have a celebrity’s face. Being seen in this Ferrari fast wears surpassingly thin, whereas driving the car fast never does. FourteenSeguin, Texas: world’s largest pecan, on a pedestal in the town square. A plaque in front of this refrigerator­-size, 1000-pound nut reads: “Cabeza de Vaca traveled the River of Nuts. He…had ample opportunity to observe the growth and fruiting habits of pecans…the first recorded contribution to the pecan literature.” I am not notably low on pecan literature. FifteenFrom Seguin, it is but a short drive to the snake farm at the Engels Road exit off I-35, just south of New Braunfels. Here, for $4.98, you may purchase “Pure, unadulterated 100-percent genuine bull shit.” Other high­lights: a deep rattlesnake pit with an excellent assortment of cockroaches­—next to a machine that measures your heart rate for 25 cents—and a two­-headed monkey corpse under glass. From which you may want to drive to McDonald’s, where, for the third time, just as I enunciate my order into the drive-thru clown’s head, the 512TR’s water hits 195 degrees, triggering the side-mounted fans. This sounds like a Husqvarna chain saw in a pay toilet—a racket that reliably causes McDonald’s servers to shout, possibly as many as five times, “What?” SixteenAs it happens, the 60-mile stretch of I-35 between San Antonio and Austin is awash in grade-A tourist effluvia, most of it superior to the Dan Blocker Memorial Head (Hoss’s head, not a commemorative marine lavatory) in O’Donnell, Texas, Check out Topsy Turvy World (“the anti­gravity world”), Dinosaur Land, Wonder World (“see an earthquake from the inside out”), Vasectomy Reversal (“money-back guarantee”), Luby’s Cafeteria (site of the Killeen massacre and a potential installment of Wilkins’s Doom Tour), and Aquarena Springs, whose diving pig Ralph swims with a palsied dog paddle that proves him traitorous to a dozen performing porcine predecessors. John Phillips|Car and DriverSeventeenGlen Rose, southwest of Fort Worth: a Norman Rockwell village filled with persons who entrust their savings to the Cow Pasture Bank, “home-owned and operated since 1921.” The Ferrari triggers a festival here. One onlooker observes that to spend $212,160 on any car, “you have to be dumb as fungus, dumb as an acre of mud.” It did not help that, as I entered Glen Rose, I maintained the 512TR’s flat twelve at about 5500 rpm in first gear—this to enjoy the Valkyrian exhaust shriek. Which, it turns out, is not a sound that Glen Rose’s residents want to learn very much more about. Glen Rose is famous for its dinosaur tracks. Three kinds: acrocanthosaurus (a meat eater), camptosaurus (a plant eater), and pleurocoelus (a tobacco chewer and phlegm dislodger). A lone track on display next to the town square is, on the day I visit, filled with chocolate milk. Check out the Creation Evidences Museum, where you may examine “humanoid footprints” in the same strata as thunderlizards. This, according to the owner, emphatically junks Chuck Dar­win’s shot at any more of those one-hour specials on the Discovery Channel. EighteenDurant, Oklahoma, home of the world’s largest peanut. Wilkins insists this is “a fraud among nuts, mere peanuts envy.” The world’s most gargantuan goober—nine feet longer—is in Ashburn, Georgia. Oklahoma’s Route 69—chunks of con­crete arrayed randomly by the ODOT­—was not designed for a 512TR with tires whose sidewalls flex with the elasticity of Scioto limestone. The Ferrari’s ride is sharp, often harsh—like a Corvette’s from a few year ago—but with far less body shake and flex. The inch or so the springs seem to deflect for these Oklahoman craters also feels like the sum total of body movement, no matter the direction. The car corners in an attitude so flat, and the seats grip so firmly, that astounding cornering forces sneak up unannounced, like Dan Quayle on a PGA tournament. My first clue: that bag of Doritos and the telephoto lens that went hurtling from the passenger’s seat with momentum suf­ficient to imprint Nikon’s logo in the kick panel. NineteenWilkins’s itinerary lands me in hardscrabble Commerce, Oklahoma, peculiarly named because there is no evi­dence it has ever had any. This is Mickey Mantle’s home town; few residents care. Mantle sold his modest yellow house, across from the football field, in 1960, but the current owner still speaks to Mickey when he isn’t making guest appearances on the shopping channel. Big Brutus in West Mineral, Kansas.John Phillips|Car and DriverTwentyA few miles north is West Mineral, Kansas, where you cannot help but observe Big Brutus, the world’s second­-largest electric shovel. It resembles the current crop of electric cars: eleven million pounds, maximum speed of 0.2 mph. The shovel’s owners permanently parked this rusting colossus in a strip pit that Brutus himself dug—this after examining an invoice that proved the thing had con­sumed $27,000 of electricity in just one month while still attached to the world’s thickest extension cord. This is unfortu­nately unlike electric cars, which cannot dig the pits in which they may similarly play out eternity. Twenty-OneIn Carthage, Missouri, Wilkins cites the Precious Moments Chapel as “a mandatory stop, one of our seven won­ders.” The Chapel here is one-third Franciscan monastery, one-third Six Flags over Jesus, and one-third Fairview Mall. Imagine the outcome had the Sistine Chapel been adorned not with murals of Moses but with a clump of black-eyed dead babies loitering at the gates of heaven, each painted by a Disney animator on furlough from Hallmark Cards. Remarks Wilkins, “Is it art, or is it spiritual Nutrasweet, not only fake but containing something that when taken in large doses makes you stupid?” Twenty-TwoPast Saint Louis and the Pro Bowling Hall of Fame and into Olney, Illinois (pronounced ALL-nay). This is one of three towns vying for the title of Earth’s epicenter of albino squirrels, which, I am four times reminded, “scientists are at a loss to explain.” Townspeople are militant about this, pointing out that squirrels in rivaling Marionville, Indiana, and Kenton, Tennessee, “are pure fakes, because, look, they just don’t all have pink eyes, so they’re nothing except squirrels with white coats, okay?” An Olney patrol­man parked next to me informs: “Squirrels have the right-of-way in town. It’s a $25 fine if you run over one. Also, I can arrest you if you take one.” I subdue the impulse. Car and DriverTwenty-ThreeJohn Dillinger Wax Museum, in Nashville, Indiana. Near Gnaw Bone. Focal point: a replica of J.D.’s bullet-rid­dled body laid out on a slab, the whole tableau awash in red dye No. 3. “Many angles are offered for your viewing plea­sure,” notes Wilkins. Entry includes a peek at “Dillinger’s death trousers” (contents of his pockets on view as well) and his base­ball shoe (no clear explanation for this). Twenty-FourNext, Honda’s test track near Marysville, Ohio, where we learn that the 512TR will indeed poke its way through many portions of its speedometer I have not yet seen. Top speed is not 192 mph as advertised but a still-inspiring 187—an improvement over the 173- and 176-mph speeds we have clocked from previous Testarossas. It is also here that we test the 512TR’s new Brembo calipers and drilled rotors, which look so raffish that owners may not care whether they arrest motion. In fact, they do. From 70 mph, this car now halts in 169 feet. That is without ABS. That is a stopping distance within 36 inches of what a 911 Turbo can accomplish with ABS.Twenty-FiveSwing past the Wood County Historical Museum, on Route 6 near Bowling Green. Here are stored dried human fingers in a jar, the long-forgotten evidence in a criminal prosecution but an eminently unforgettable spectacle should you later purchase french fries at the Mt. Victory Union 76. Twenty-SixQuick stop in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, for Phil the groundhog, whose forecasts are now challenged by an equally moody rodent in Sun Prairie, Wisconsin. Which town possesses the more reliable ‘hog meteorologist triggered a debate in Congress on a day when many legislators were not balancing their check­books. The town’s basketball team is known as “The Chucks.” Twenty-SevenThis is followed by an even briefer stop in Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania, for­merly known as Mauch Chunk, suggest­ing that the name change was perhaps not a notably controversial item. In town, the Olympic great’s pink-marble mausoleum lures few tourists. “Mute testament to greed untempered by market research,” says Wilkins. After 5000 hard miles, the 512TR arrives relatively unscathed at Ferrari’s New Jersey headquarters.John Phillips|Car and DriverTwenty-EightThen into Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey, the 512TR ‘s home and a locale whose roads—evidently shipped intact from Beirut—and Third World drivers place the car in far greater jeopardy than it has faced in the preceding 5000 miles, except for the night I slept in it after con­suming two tacos, a granola bar, twelve ounces of Switzer’s licorice, and a quart of orange Gatorade. All of which teaches us, well, what? I went looking for U-Will-B-Amazed kitsch and instead found charm and adventure and endless entertainment, most of it nearly free except for $421 in fuel and $35.95 in jumpstarts and $212,160 for wheels but no spare. I found that America’s small towns are not only alive and well but also populated by per­sons who know whose checks are good and whose wives are not. That those same small towns are not populated exclusively by the humor-impaired. And that the tackiest and most banal roadside attrac­tions in middle America are more engrossing than the brightest and best on network television. If I owned this 512TR—the first Ferrari that I covet beyond measure—­I would stuff its map pockets full of No-Doz and The New Roadside America, cancel my subscription to Discover magazine (May cover: “Why are pygmies small?”), and pawn my big-­screen RCA. In his book Blue Highways, William Least Heat Moon says, “Any traveler who misses the journey misses about all he’s going to get.” Mr. Moon did not even own a Ferrari. He did, however, possess a spare tire.SpecificationsSpecifications
    1992 Ferrari 512TRVehicle Type: mid-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 2-passenger, 2-door coupe
    PRICE
    Base/As Tested: $212,160/$212,160
    ENGINEDOHC 48-valve flat-12, aluminum block and head, port fuel injectionDisplacement: 302 in3, 4943 cm3Power: 421 hp @ 6750 rpmTorque: 360 lb-ft @ 5500 rpm 
    TRANSMISSION[S]5-speed manual
    CHASSIS
    Suspension, F/R: control arms/control armsBrakes, F/R: 12.4-in vented disc/12.2-in vented discTires: Pirelli P ZeroF: 235/40ZR-18R: 295/35ZR-18
    DIMENSIONS
    Wheelbase: 100.4 inLength: 176.4 inWidth: 77.8 inHeight: 44.7 inPassenger Volume: 47 ft3Trunk Volume: 5 ft3Curb Weight: 3684 lb
    C/D TEST RESULTS
    60 mph: 5.0 sec100 mph: 10.3 sec1/4-Mile: 13.0 sec @ 110 mph130 mph: 17.7 sec150 mph: 26.3 secRolling Start, 5–60 mph: 5.5 secTop Gear, 30–50 mph: 6.6 secTop Gear, 50–70 mph: 7.0 secTop Speed: 187 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 169 ftRoadholding, 300-ft Skidpad: 0.92 g 
    C/D FUEL ECONOMY
    Observed: 16 mpg
    EPA FUEL ECONOMYCity/Highway: 11/16 mpg 
    C/D TESTING EXPLAINEDThis content is imported from OpenWeb. You may be able to find the same content in another format, or you may be able to find more information, at their web site. More