Special Car, auto, cars, vehicles

Okay, the sequential blinking doesn't save anything noticeable, but the LED lamps that are flashing (and serving tail-lamp and brake-light duty) consume 87 percent less power than the incandescent bulbs they replace. This helps save 10.5 gallons of gas per year in the typical Mustang, according to Osram, the folks who produce the system and that pioneered myriad other lighting innovations on earlier Ford/Lincoln-Mercury products. More good news: Unlike most LED signal and tail lamps you're aware of, which position an array of LEDs behind some sort of lens in a custom fitting for a particular car, the Mustang's LEDs work very much like a traditional incandescent bulb.

They're bulb-shaped, so they fit into a traditional lens and reflector housing with a push-and-turn base, drastically reducing the replacement cost of the tail lamp after crash damage (costing about half as much). They typically last the life of a vehicle and are unaffected by shock and vibration, so they're ideal in extreme applications (Pratt & Miller has used Joule lamps for three seasons of Corvette endurance racing without a failure).These so-called Joule lamps incorporate the LEDs, the thermal management (that ring sitting just behind the reflector housing), and the control circuitry (which resides in the connector).

Joule lamps cannot replace incandescent bulbs in existing applications (at least not yet), but this plug-n-play approach allows manufacturers to work LEDs into their product lines for vastly less investment cost than all those custom applications you see out there, which is why Chevy can afford to have an LED fitment on only the LTZ model of the Malibu. Joule lamps are also in use on the Ford Taurus X and the Mercury Mountaineer and Sable.

The Mustang's other Osram lighting flourish is found inside, where the MyColor dash gauge backlight color is now keyed with the rest of the interior ambient lighting, so that when you dial up ghoulish green or whorehouse red on the dash, the footwells, cupholders, etc. all glow with the flow.

Why a V-6 Shelby? Simple: “We want to make the Shelby brand accessible to a wider variety of enthusiasts,” says Amy Boylan, president and CEO of Shelby Automobiles. “Younger buyers, first-time Shelby intenders, anyone on a budget that can’t afford our V-8-powered models.”

The preliminary specs are outlined below, but in concept, it’s the Shelby GT treatment applied to a Mustang V-6. There are two versions, naturally aspirated and supercharged. I drove prototype examples of both during a recent visit to Shelby’s HQ and the Las Vegas Motor Speedway. The nat-asp Terlingua is SO much more fun than the droning, rental-spec V-6er. The exhaust has a nice rasp to it, acceleration is sharper than stock, and the Ford Racing handling package, lowered ride height, and 18-in. rolling stock do wonders for the handling.

The supercharged version really scoots and will leave a stock Mustang GT for dead. Somehow, the blower smoothes out the engine even at high revs; I was pleasantly surprised at its sophisticated feel. Running 20-in. rolling stock, the handling is sharper yet, although it comes with some ride penalty. The biggest improvement? Those six-piston Shelby/Baer brakes. Fade? Fuhgetaboutit. As noted, both of these cars are development pieces, so final calibration is ongoing.

Let’s talk bucks. The base model seems a reasonable value; it’ll be the least expensive new Shelby Mustang you can buy. In my opinion, the supercharged version will face a challenge. At 19 grand above a base V-6, you’re well into Shelby GT territory, and it’s not a huge stretch at that point to go for a supercharged Shelby GT that cranks out 450-plus hp. And there are many Mustang aftermarket component alternatives that will deliver more performance for less bread. Somebody will have to really want the blown Terlingua, if for no other reason than to have something different.

The most financially advantageous scenario may be the semi-secret one: Besides simply selling you a new one, Shelby will perform either Terlingua conversion on an existing (translation: used) V-6 Mustang, including the proverbial ID plate with a Shelby serial number. 2005-06 Mustang V-6s are pretty reasonable in the used-car marketplace nowadays, and most are ready for new tires and shocks -- all stuff that gets changed in the conversion. Find a clean three-year-old V-6 five-speed coupe, pop for the conversion, and you’ve got a serial-numbered Shelby Mustang for the cost of a used Camry.

What do you think about the notion of an entry-level Shelby Mustang? Is this a car that interests you, or would you instead shop for affordable performance at the Honda or Mitsubishi store? Shelby Automobiles begins Terlingua production soon, and we’ll report back after we’ve had the chance to attach our timing gear to customer-spec examples. In the mean time, please pass the chili.

Preliminary Shelby Terlingua Mustang specifications, per Shelby Automobiles (www.shelbyautos.com)

Base Level (222HP):

EXTERIOR:
• Matte black Shelby fiberglass deep-draw hood (“Gawdawful” yellow available for black cars)
• Terlingua 1860 hood pin kit
• Terlingua stripe kit -- flat black (“Gawdawful” yellow available for black cars)
• Mustang GT rear fascia
• Rear decklid cover
• Terlingua shield emblem on rear decklid

INTERIOR:
• Terlingua Racing door sill plates
• Shelby floormat emblems
• Terlingua rabbit billet shift knob
• Terlingua Racing dash plaque
• Engine plaque
• Terlingua key chain

PERFORMANCE:
• Ford Racing V-6 power pack
• Dual Shelby GT-style exhaust
• CAI with performance tune on the ECU
• Hurst short throw shifter
• Ford Racing performance handling pack
• Bullitt-style strut-tower brace
• 18-in. Ford Bullitt-style wheels
• 235/50/18 Tires

OPTIONAL:
• Ford V-6-style rear spoiler (in case base car comes without)
• Ford Pony grille w/foglights
• Terlingua Racing sticker kit

MSRP for Base level package: $8995.00


Performance Level (310-350HP):

EXTERIOR:
• Matte black Shelby fiber-glass deep-draw hood (“Gawdawful” yellow available for black cars)
• Shelby front fascia
• Shelby black mesh grille w/billet Terlingua rabbit emblem
• Terlingua 1860 hood pin kit
• Terlingua stripe kit – flat black (“Gawdawful” yellow available for black cars)
• Shelby GT rear fascia w/exhaust hole cover inserts
• Rear decklid cover
• Terlingua shield emblem on rear decklid
• Side scoops
• Black quarter window covers with aluminum rivets
• Sequential taillights
• Hub cap centers
• Running board heat shields
• Racing fuel door cover w/Terlingua Racing shield

INTERIOR:
• Terlingua Racing door sill plates
• Shelby floormat emblems
• Terlingua rabbit billet shift knob
• Terlingua Racing dash plaque
• Engine plaque
• Terlingua key chain
• Interior quarter window block off plate
• Ford GT-style racing start button
• Shelby gauge pod w/boost gauge
• Terlingua engine cap kit
• Terlingua racing pedal cover kit

After only a mile on the road, I realize I'm in for a week of utter mayhem. The traffic is heavy, seemingly without rule, and of, well, a diverse variety. Naturally, there are the usual suspects, i.e. cars, trucks, vans, SUVs, and buses. But in India an array of other vehicles, including tuk-tuks (three-wheeled, motorized rickshaws), motorcycles, scooters, and bicycles -- all of which toot their horns and ringers as if performing Beethoven's Fifth -- transform the streets into a mosh pit of wheels. Add in throngs of pedestrians and a potpourri of on-the-loose animals -- dogs, cows, goats, and pigs, to name a few -- and what you get is a blend of traffic jam, walk-a-thon, and zoo. Making things worse, there appears to be no right of way on the road; rather, it's first come, first go, be it on two, three, or four wheels, or two or four legs.

As we near the hotel in Fisherman's Cove, a lovely stretch of beach along the Bay of Bengal, the city landscape proves equally incongruous. Shacks and tents and dilapidated dwellings mix with brand-new factories and car dealerships, well-kept colleges, and pristine pharmaceutical plants. The scene looks like a tornado ripped through, scattering trash and damaging buildings, sacrificing only the ones the wealthy constructed. Arriving at FishCo, as the locals call it, I begin wondering, What will it be like to drive a $300,000 Ferrari through these towns, villages, and cities where conditions are a striking juxtaposition of future and past, first-world and third-world? Only one way to find out.

Hold on. What about a Ferrari 599GTB? Or an Audi R8? Yes, I love them both, but I know I'll never be able to afford to own either. The M3 is different. Sure it's expensive -- the car I was driving this morning stickers at $72,795 -- but I like to dream that once the kids are through college in a couple of years, I might just be able to make that nut if I work hard enough.

I liked the new M3 from the moment I drove it in Spain last year. But the dual-clutch transmission takes the car to a whole new level, providing the perfect synthesis between the hair-trigger 4.0L V-8 under the hood and the preternaturally alert, agile chassis.

I ran close to 100 miles on deserted switchback roads this morning, and this car made me feel like Robert Kubica on a qualifying lap. I went deeper under brakes, punched harder out of corners, pinballed faster through switchbacks than I've ever done before, the transmission firing off shifts as fast and crisp as those in Kubica's BMW Sauber F1 racer as I fanned the paddles.

In full commando mode (a button on the center console allows you to choose from five different shift speeds), you get a touch of shift-shock as the transmission harnesses the rotational inertia of the engine as it sheds revs to ensure there's absolutely no delay in forward motion. Downshifts are accompanied by an instantaneous explosion of revs.

Default setting is midway between race fast and schmooze slow and delivers the same neat shifts as you get in the VW and Audi dual-clutch trannies. In schmooze mode, it's as seamless as a CVT, a million times better than the dull-witted SMG that blights the M5, and making the regular six-speed stick feel like you're wrestling a tire iron through a drum of molasses.

Would I take the dual-clutch M3 over the similarly priced Nissan GT-R? In a heartbeat. The GT-R is an awe-inspiring piece, a triumph of technology. But it's about as engaging to drive as a PlayStation console: a curiously soulless contraption that staggers you with its sheer performance, but leaves you wondering whether it actually needs you behind the wheel at all.

And the more you drive the big, heavy GT-R, the more you become aware an awful lot of computers are working awful hard to keep the whole thing on the road. You feel sheer mass working against the Nissan every time you change direction, and the gigabytes sweating to keep up. It works its front tires very hard, and all the on-board systems are designed to convince you otherwise.

The M3 is lighter, more agile, more truthfully tactile. There's more front-end grip and more clarity in the steering. You know exactly what every corner of the car is doing, all the time. Caught out by a vicious crest on the exit of a swooping turn, I felt the M3 get airborne, then felt it land, cat-like, the touchdown of each wheel clearly telegraphed. On this morning's roads -- sometimes smooth and sweeping, but more often lumpy and laden with tight curves and sudden heaves and crests -- I truly doubt the GT-R would have been much faster.

And when the fun finishes; when you have to schlep back down the freeway, or through stop-start traffic downtown, the M3's the far nicer car to live with. The ride, though still firm, is more compliant, and there's far less crashing and banging from the suspension. The BMW's transmission has none of the audible grumbling and clunking of the GT-R's dual clutch unit, either. The M3's rear seat is more useable, and so is its trunk.

The GT-R looks like it jumped off the pages of a manga comic. The M3 is as suave as George Clooney in a Brioni tux. It's at once a truly inspiring sport sedan and a genuinely relaxed, sophisticated daily driver. Now, where's that 401(k) paperwork?

That said, I didn't come back from rural France -- where Aston unveiled the car -- in love. Perhaps my expectations, fueled by months of hype and, of course, "Casino Royale," were too high. Maybe my mind was fogged by jet-lag. But while I fully expected to lust after the DBS, now that I've driven it I'm unmoved.

For sure, the DBS -- the most potent Aston Martin production car ever -- is a compelling piece. Imagine, if you will, a La Perla negligee that goes 191 mph. Sex revealed in aluminum and carbon fiber. That's the DBS in a nutshell. I'd like the look at lot more, though, if the sticker were, say, under $150K. For close to 300 large the DBS seems almost too distinguished, too Prince Charles in tailored Turnbull & Asser shirt. It needs a little Mick Jagger swagger. Even the stately Rolls Phantom looks like it knows how to party like Austin Powers now and then. The DBS seems sniffy and remote in comparison.

The big 5935cc V-12 is, no question, simply awesome. Stomp on the throttle and the exhaust note detonates, a bi-valve front airbox cracks wide, cams whine; before you can say "hang on!" you're into the rev limiter. The engine is 510 stallions strong but light switch-responsive and turbine smooth. Aston claims 0 to 62 mph in 4.3 seconds (and I wouldn't be surprised if our hot shoes can improve on that number). Monster torque (420 pound-feet) makes for effortless stoplight getaways; the six-speed manual box rows smoothly. Keeping the wild rush in check are gigantic Brembo carbon-ceramic brakes, six-piston calipers in front and four-piston in back, which, Aston says, improve stopping distances by 10 percent over the DB9 upon which the DBS is based.

Despite a carbon-fiber hood, decklid, and front fenders (the rest of the body is crafted in aluminum), the DBS checks in at 3750 pounds (though that's about 140 pounds less than the DB9). This is a big, heavy coupe; on the winding roads around Cahors, France, the DBS felt more "GT" than "sports car." Yet with shocks and springs 50 percent stiffer than the DB9's, the ride borders on too firm for relaxed long-distance touring. And that's in comfort mode. Switch to sport, and the adaptive Bilsteins -- which automatically switch between five different settings -- remain in their stiffest position as often as the chassis computer's ride/handling algorithm allows. In compensation, grip level is quite high. In most turns, you'll run out of nerve before the P Zeroes have even begun to speak up.