A point of personal privilege. I own a 1960 MGA that I restored with my
own two hands, and it is a fantastic British sports car, with lovely
lines penned by Syd Enever, a stiff chassis, and a floggable character.
The car was introduced in 1955 as a replacement to the venerable TD and
was itself replaced by the MGB in 1962. Along the way, somebody decided
my little car was anemic — hey! I resent that! — so MG offered an
optional high-performance engine with dual overhead cams, thus the "twin
cam." It was a leaking, piston-burning, plug-fouling nightmare of a
motor that required absolute devotion to things like ignition timing,
fuel octane and rpm limits, less the whole shebang vomit connecting rods
and oil all over the road. Many years after the engine was taken out of
service, it was discovered that the problem lay in the carburetors. At
certain rpm, resonant frequencies would cause the fuel mixture to froth,
leaning out the fuel and burning the pistons. I've never had any such
trouble with my iron-block, pushrod, lawn tractor engine. I'm just
saying.
What makes a car bad? Is it the car with the worst exterior styling? The most dreadful interior? The most uncomfortable ride? The least reliable/most poorly made? Or is it a dismal combination of all these factors? For our purposes, the worst car in the world is not only the vehicle that incorporates the most of these negative traits, but also more importantly, has no redeeming qualities of what makes a car great whatsoever.
Friday, December 11, 2015
1958 Lotus Elite
Fiberglass was the '50s carbon fiber — tough, versatile, lighter than
steel and more affordable than aluminum. The Kaiser Darrin and Corvette
sports cars were wrapped in fiberglass bodies, for instance. Colin
Chapman, the founding engineer of Lotus, was bonkers for weight savings.
It was inevitable that he would be drawn to the material. And so, the
Elite. Weighing just 1,100 lbs and powered by a punchy, 75-hp Coventry
Climax engine, the Elite (Type 14) was a successful race car, winning
its class at the 24 Hours of Le Mans six times. It was also a lovely
little coupe, which made the moment when the suspension mounts punched
through the stressed-skin monocoque all the more pathetic. The
unreinforced fiberglass couldn't take the structural strain. In
Chapman's cars, failure was always an option.
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