GET A TRIP TO EUROPE WITH YOUR NEW CAR
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Talk about the ultimate Christmas present. "Dave! We're giving you a deluxe trip to Stuttgart to pick up your new GT3!" "SWEET!", says Dave.

This is one smart move by European carmakers. In a marketing world dominated by "the experience" rather than "the product", nothing could be better than buying your car by 1) going to the factory, 2) seeing it roll off the assembly line, 3) getting the keys handed to you by an engineer named "Wolfgang", 5) baptizing your baby on the Autobahn at 140 mph. Stroke of genius, EuroFellas.

Which brings about a potent question. Is an automobile a "product" or an "experience" in itself? In the retail world, having an unusual, fresh "experience" is almost (even more) important than the "product" the "experience" produces. For example: Starbucks Coffee rocketed off the charts when it started because it offered its customers a hip, fresh environment at every franchise in which the customer could sip outrageously overpriced lattes. No matter where you were, from Seattle to Miami, you could always find the same Starbucks: clean, hip, comfy. This attracted people, not because it was great coffee, but because it was a reliable, fresh "experience".

So what about cars? Cars are probably the only products nowadays consumed based on the product. People buy the Toyota not because they give you a free tote bag and the dealership building is hip, but because the Toyota is a very reliable product. People don't buy a BMW because the dealership has a cool kiosk where you can play addicting arcade games, but because the BMW is a fine product, and turns heads at the gas station.

But this new "Come and Get It at the Factory!" has strange implications for the marketing aspect of the automobile industry. Will people now buy a BMW simply for the trip to the factory, and the "experience" Beamer gives you? Will people buy a Toyota not because it's a good car, but because Toyota offers a "unique car-buying experience"?

Marketing is a strange business, lads.

I've always thought the Pagani Zonda was a unique, artistically-designed supercar. They've come out with a modded version called the Zonda F, after Juan Manuel Fangio. You gotta love that wooden steering wheel. To hell with carbon fiber!

Whenever I read columns in revered car journals such as Automobile, Road&Track, Motor Trend, or AutoWeek, I sometimes feel a bit depressed. Why? Well, it seems like the best writers and car experts are guys in their 50's and 60's who grew up with a garage next to their bedroom. Every few weeks, their dads would bring home old classic cars and restore them, while their sons would look on with admiration. They grew up in the days when cars were art, and working on cars was a real full-time trade. In other words, these guys could change the oil in a Dodge Dart before they could walk. They followed in their fathers' footsteps and lived in their garages, sometimes going into racing, others making a business out of the cars they restored. Now they're retired and write for car magazines, spilling rich, worthy wisdom regarding the automobile. If "old salts" is a term for experienced sailors, then these guys would be "old gears".


What will happen when this generation ends? What will happen to the world of the automobile when these guys are no longer here to dispense fascinating reminiscences from the golden age of the car? Will the "maturiteen", hipster generation take over? The young guns who grew up with Toyotas, Hondas, and Nissans? The guys like me who learned nothing about the inner workings of cars, and just saw them as "products"; plastic toys from Japan that were made of cheap, replaceable parts?

Maybe I'm paranoid, but the future of the automobile looks bleak if my generation takes over the field. For myself, I feel ultimately unqualified to write about cars. If I were ever offered a job a car journal, I would lapse into a serious bout of moral conflict. It would be the opportunity of a lifetime, but am I qualified?

Here's my resume right now:

1. I grew up with my car seat in a Camry.
2. I don't know how to change spark plugs.
3. But I love cars.
   

To me this makes me completely unqualified to work at a respected entity of the automotive media. But isn't this the resume of my entire generation? So who then will be qualified to speak authoritatively on the world of cars when the old gears are gone?

The thing that worries me the most is if my generation takes over, we'll lose what we love most about cars. My generation would forget the magic their fathers and grandfathers wielded with a wrench and a bucket of Penzoil. My generation would praise the coming of the self-driving car, which, to me, would be the end of the world. My generation would praise "alternative energy", which, to me, is just the difference between 91 octane and 87 octane. My generation would kiss the American pony car goodbye to make room for Toyota's newest lost-in-translationmobile. This is what I'm afraid of.

Maybe I'm wrong, which is usually the case, but I can't stand to think of a world without engine blocks the size of a Toyota Prius. (In your face, Greenpeace)

Pininfarina's newest work of art is by far my favorite from the Paris Auto Show. To be perfectly honest, everything else (w/ the exception of a few Rolls, Jags, and Ferraris) looked as if the designers were attempting an artistic harmony between Japanese design and ferrets on crystal meth. Especially the Peugeots.

I've always thought of starting up a Tarmac Philosopher podcast, but I think I'll stick to writing. Writing, for me, is much easier than recording into a live mic. I don't know why. Maybe it's the pressure of constantly having to speak, and the fear of being taken out of context. Who knows?

The heart of this blog is finding joy, excitement, profoundness, and life's lessons in those wonderful machines we call automobiles. There's so much we can learn about them, and so much we can learn from them. You may call me a hopeless, odd, demented romantic fantasizing about metal machinery of all things. But the fact is, I am. The class of "practical people" who call cars simply "things to get you from point A to point B." have an amazingly bland, cynical viewpoint.

G.K. Chesterton, a very famous philosopher, once wrote a delightful small selection called "The Romantic in the Rain", where he brilliantly delves into how he sees rain, and mercilessly rips into those who are bothered by rain and see it as an inconvienence. Once you finish reading his words, you either think Chesterton was a loony, or think that rain is simply a fantastic thing. I, personally, had a renewal of opinion regarding rain. I now loved rain. Eff umbrellas. Chesterton's sweeping, romantic word-pictures of rain had taken hold of my imagination.

This is how I envision the Tarmac Philosopher blog. Delving into the world of automobiles. Sweeping aside the politics, corporate issues, money, power, desensitization and corruption that has infected the world of automobiles. I want to get back to the basics about how we think of cars. I want to think about cars like I did when I was six, with amazed wonderment at these beautiful, inspiring machines.

The world is cynical. We've lost the innocence and wonder we had when we were children. Can't that come back? I can't make it all come back, but I can still have fun writing and thinking about cars and fun, can't I?

Road&Track has an interesting interview with Michelin's racing department guy, Pierre Dupasquier, and they talk about the 2005 USGP fiasco, at which I was present. The above shot was taken by myself from our grandstand seat at turn 1, the moment the "race" was starting. Needless to say, this whole thing really p-oed me off. I immediately had thoughts of Bernie Ecclestone fleeing the scene in his sleek black hellcop.

Which brings me to think about F1 in general. I, personally, love F1. The cars are pinnacles of human engineering, and their sound, smell, and look are something unrivaled on the face of the earth. Yet Formula One has just given itself a bad name among the non-diehard racing fans because of the intense politics that is forever going on.

Whenever I watch the "Acura Pre-Race Show" on Speed Channel, Peter Windsor (a fine chap, indeed) always is covering some political story inside F1, whether it be about drivers switching teams, team owners having friction with their drivers, drivers vs. other drivers, or Bernie Ecclestone flaunting some newfound power of his. Now this doesn't happen all the time. They try to balance their coverage with a good dose of great stuff about the cars themselves, racing strategies, etc.; but whenever it turns into FIA C-SPAN, I get up and prepare some popcorn.

Now I may have criticism from diehard fans who like the political intrigue of F1, and that's perfectly okey-dokey. But for a simple-minded lover of the sport, racing is racing. When all is said and done, the real magic of F1 happens when the ignitions fire up and the starting lights flicker on. Hearing and seeing a Formula One car in all its glory is an experience I have yet to find a replacement for. It's something that you can tell your grandchildren about. When you sit them up on your lap, your not going to be telling them about His Excellency Bernie Eccelstone, or the 2005 USGP Michelin incident. You'll be telling them about the thrill of hearing the cars slam into gear; how you saw the great Michael Schumacher race; how you could smell the smoldering, cherry-red brakes from 200 yards away. That is what F1 is all about. Thrills. Spills. The glory of putting masterpieces of machinery onto asphalt.

Bugs on cars. Is there anything more revolting and disgusting on the face of the planet? Ok, maybe a Fiat Multipla scores points in that field, but seriously: bugs on cars are a repulsing spectacle of world highways. What makes bugs on cars so aweful?

I believe it is a clash between our cleanliness and our love for cars. When we see creepy-crawlies' guts all over our beautiful, blue silver Beamer, our automobile brains are disgusted at the fact that something so repulsed has desecrated our car. Bugs freak people out, and when they are splattered all over our car's front end, it adds a whole new dimension to freakiness.

I like my car to be shiny. Squeaky clean. Shimmering in the sunlight. Mr. Clean's my best buddy. Ergo, bugs are my enemies. Down here in Florida, we get invaded by the infamous love bugs twice a year, usually around May and September. Swarms come down upon the highways and pepper anything traveling above 20mph with their splattery, soft bodies. The worst part is their acidic body chemistry, which does, in fact, eat away paint and chrome. My car has fallen victim to their automotive evils numerous times. I've learned rather quickly that if you don't clean them off within an hour of impact, their goo is on your finish forever, and will eventually eat it away. It's like your car getting gangrenous. It's simply awful.

Solutions? The first and most popular solution is a simple front cover, or net, especially over the grill. I've heard through the grapevine the love bugs will embed inside the radiator, causing the motor to overheat. These covers are supposed to keep most of the bug from getting on (or in) your car. Sounds like it'll work. Should try it. All the seniors here in Florida swear on their parent's graves by these front covers.

The other solution is getting a car wash twice a day. This obviously runs up a tab, but it works to keep the pitting from happening. Also, pro carwashers use special industrial soap that ArmorAll doesn't make, and damn that stuff works! A simple brush of a high-pressure hose and the goo's gone.

The third is pretty simple. Ride a horse to work.

Thank God September's over with. Now I can drive my new Lambo Murcielago tuner at full throttle. :)