I stand corrected. Thanks for the clarification.

This’ll be the last hurrah of the 435, before BMW switches motors and renames it the 440.

And, technically, the 6MT. The sedans only had 5MTs at that point.

Not kidding, it’s a gripe I have with some of the, er, curvier vehicles on the road. Something land-bargey like that deserves to be driven with one palm at the bottom of the wheel. It just feels right.

Here’s the only question that matters:

The ugliest new car to come out in a long time? What, are you high?

Lacrosse is a sport. A hardcore, balls out sport.

The press release seems to be a little murkier (I turned down the event invite to go a giant swap meet with my girlfriend. To Chevrolet’s credit, I would have gone, but my gf asked me first.):

All Tesla needs to do is engineer in a physical door-release mechanism. Perhaps a button tucked under the side skirt, so it doesn’t fuck with drag coefficient too much? That’s where all the hyphy scensters hide their door-release buttons when they shave the handles.

“They didn’t change the recommended torque values for the lugs! Fucking awful.”

The rear bowtie badge and the SS emblem.

GM was clever to bait-and-switch all the auto writers like that, so that the new V6 Camaro acts more epic than it actually might.

Does that mean you earned $200 for crashing the Camaro, since you were the source of the juicy details this time around? Or does that only apply when other outlets bang ‘em up?

Paging the burn unit.

To be fair, the ATS gauge face looks old as hell and pretty cheap, like they pulled it from the S-10 parts bin.

Ballast and the best winter tires that money can buy (not the best that you can reasonably afford) will put any car through a Chicago winter just fine. Friends of friends drive exotics in Chicago in the winter. When I buy my 911SC, I plan on doing the same.

Hey, that’s my life, too. Could be worse, right?

You sound like a member of the media.

Q: Why would you offer a four-cylinder in the Camaro? Didn’t you learn your lesson with the Iron Duke?

Never. Again.