Category: Drive Time

Inspired by the post above, let’s assume that you could get your hands on three mint-condition (as-new, restored or even resto-modded) cars which were made without an onboard computer (say, for the sake of argument, before 1986), which three vehicles would you choose?  (Ignore price and maintenance costs for the sake of the exercise.)

You can have a truck, car, SUV, or any combination (two cars, one truck;  truck, car and SUV;  three trucks, etc.).

Mine:

1.)  1984 Mercedes 300 D Geländewagen W460

With a towbar and a/c, that’s my go-to truck/SUV combination.

2.)  1962 Jaguar E-type 3.8 Fixed Head Coupé

‘Nuff said.  And for a luxury, effortless drive:

3.)  1975 Mercedes 350SE W116

All day, baby.

Your choices (with reasons, if wanted) in Comments.

An email from Reader Larry F asks:  “I know you love the Dino 246, but you also admit that they’re not that great to drive.  If you could have any recent Ferrari (produced since the Dino), which one would you choose?”

That’s actually an easy one.  The only Ferrari I’d care to drive today (other than the Dino 246) is the last model Ferrari offered with a stick shift, the 599 GTB of the early 2000s.

Here’s a comparison of the two:

I need to make a couple of points, though.  One of the things I love about the earlier Ferraris like the Dino is that they’re small and nimble.  After that they started growing and growing, until we finally arrived at elefanti  like the 599.  Here’s the comparison between the Dino and the 599 (l-r):

By comparison, the Dino is the nimble teenager while the 599 is its fat-ass Italian mama.

Of course, the power is not comparable, the 246 GT’s V6 192hp being dwarfed by the 599’s V12 612hp (which it needs to get that extra 1,600lbs moving).  I wouldn’t care about acceleration (0-60:  7.0secs vs. 3.7secs) or top speed (148mph vs. 208mph) unless I were at Spa-Francorchamps, which is never gonna happen.

I’ve never driven the 599, but it’s probably a lot easier to handle than the Dino, so there’s that.

But in looks, the Dino still wins by a country mile.  The 599 looks like a fatter Mazda Miata RF:

YMMV.

Just when I thought I’d finally found a car which suits my needs (smallish saloon, stick shift, decent horsepower — turbo maybe — with decent reliability), comes this news:

The new Civic sedan already looked good. It’s got a sharper design, a nicer interior, and loads more tech. The only problem was no manual transmission. But Honda manual die-hards can relax. Your hero has arrived. It’s the 2022 Honda Civic Hatchback.

I’m not a Honda die-hard;  in fact, I’ve never owned a Honda of any description.  But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t, given that everyone who has owned one seems to like them.  (Best line ever, from a friend who had just bought his wife her third Honda in a row:  “Not even Irene can fuck up a Honda.”)   Oh, and by the way:  that “loads more tech” thing is actually a negative for me, of course.

Unfortunately, though, the reason I’ve never owned a Honda is that in my opinion they’re always just a tad too expensive for what you’re getting — whether new or second hand.  Here’s a comparison (CarMax):

…and it should be noted that the Civic doesn’t have a stick shift, but the Jetta does.  Up till now, Honda’s only offered a stick shift in their racier models (Si and Type-R), where the prices — even second hand — are prohibitive.

That price disparity, by the way, is the same in new cars (Edmunds):

…and both cars have manual transmission, in this case.

The only thing I have going for me — touch wood — is that I can afford to wait a while, because while second-hand car prices are increasing, that’s not the case with stick shifts.  It seems that few young people can drive them nowadays (Daughter and #2 Son can, Son&Heir could, but prefers not to), so there’s that.  And the Tiguan still rolls along, 115k miles and counting.

As I’ve written before:  I’ve owned three Jettas in my lifetime, and loved each one.  None of them gave me any trouble whatsoever.  The only reason I sold two of them was because we’d just moved to downtown Chicago and didn’t need two cars.  Then I sold the third, a wagon, because we needed a Suburban.

I wish I could say I enjoy this, but I don’t.  Buying cars is only pleasurable if you’re rich, and I’m not.

One of my buddies owned a Ford Capri back in the early 1970s, and many’s the weekend night he and I would go out in the Capri looking for booze, women and trouble (some overlap).

This being South Africa, he had the European-styled version (which I preferred over the U.S. Mercury type anyway) with, as I recall, the 2.0-liter V6 German engine.  All I remember was that it was easily a match for any hot Mini-Cooper S, Alfa Romeo 1600 or Fiat 125 S of the era — at least, in Mike’s hands it was, and I remember most vividly the incredible speed with which he raced up and down through the gearbox, using that tiny short-throw stick.

I thought then (and still do) that the Capri’s shape was incredibly sexy — far more so than the earlier Mustang, and hugely more so than the horrible Pinto — and frankly, I think it would hold its own against the anonymous styling of many of today’s wind-tunnel models.  Sure, it’s a little dated, but then so am I.

The 2.0-liter V6 was fine for the times back then, but if I could have a new one today, I’d get the racier 3.0-liter GT or GXL, which put out close to 150hp — and considering how light the Capri’s body was, it would be plenty powerful:

I wouldn’t even mind the 70s-era upholstery color:

Side note:  there was a racing version of the South African Capri (called the “Perana”) which was fitted with a monster 5-liter V8 engine.  It was eventually banned from competition because it had no competition.  Vroom vroom.

A number of Americans dream of owning a muscle car from the 1960s and 70s.  If I had to own such a car (as opposed to, say, an Alfa Romeo Montreal), the Ford Capri would top my list.