Changes for the Sake of Innovation. It Happens.

Since I find it to be an interesting topic to say the least, and it's quite possibly one of the coolest engineering feats I've ever seen, I'm jumping back to the C7 Corvette again.  After re-reading (again) the January 2013 issue of Car and Driver, I wanted to see what people had to say about the next 'Vette.  I expected yays and nays, naturally, but not to the extent that I witnessed.  This is what I found.

Let me start off by throwing this out there: I'm a diehard Corvette fan.

I always have been.  I come from a 'Vette-owning family; some of my earliest memories include my father's gleaming Classic White, L-82, 4 speed, T-top '77.  It was extensively modified, mechanically.  350LT, 4 bolt main, forged steel crank, Holley 900 CFM throttle body fuel injection, MSD 6A race ignition, Borg & Warner Heavy Duty 4 speed, Hays three finger race clutch, 4.11 rear, true dual exhaust, etc.  I remember being picked up in that car from elementary school and having all of my classmates run up to the car, and laughing as they jumped back when my dad (or mom, on occasion) released the Kraken with a simple turn of the key.   After having the car for 21 years, he sold it when he ordered and optioned his '99 C5 Corvette Convertible (6 speed manual) from the Bowling Green, KY factory.

So naturally, when I heard GM was debuting the C7 in January (this was November-December), I was very excited, to say the least.  The first all-new Corvette in 9 years?  Who wouldn't be?

A lot of people, it turns out.  Not because it was a new Corvette, but because of some of the design features.  The design features?  Really?  I was more excited about the new LT1 drivetrain—Direct injection, variable valve timing, cylinder deactivation, 7 speed rev-matching manual transmission—all of the major mechanical innovations of the past decade, wrapped up in one big package under that beautiful name that just flows right off the tongue: Corvette.

And yet, even with all of those Christmas goodies that GM is presenting to prospective owners (and surely some current owners who will be upgrading soon), there are still those who feel that the car is not up to par.

Specifically?  The taillights.

The freaking taillights?  Really people?  The most advanced and powerful base Corvette ever (not to mention one of the overall coolest looking cars around), and you still manage to moan and complain about the taillights?

Their gripe?  The new 'Vette's taillights share a similar styling motif with the retro-styled Camaro, and the departure of the "classic" round taillights.  Instead, they are now rectangular.

Let's rewind back to a time when the C5 was singing its siren song, and the C6 was the next and best thing.  The C6 was cool.  It was the generation of Nurburgring-killers like the 505 hp, 198 mph Z06 and the 638 hp, 205 mph ZR1.  And yet, people were still complaining.  About what, you ask?  Oddly and ironically enough, the headlights!  The C6 did away with the pop-up headlights, a Corvette feature since 1962, in the interest of aerodynamics.  And you know what?  People got over it.  People realized that they could live with aerodynamic, body-integrated headlights.

I think the real problem people have is that the taillights are very similar to those featured on the newer Camaro.  However, let's rewind again, this time further back—try 1972.  Nixon and Watergate, the looming OPEC fuel crisis, rising insurance premiums—it just wasn't a good time for America.  But let's focus on Chevrolet, shall we?

Just going to throw this out there.  These are pictures of the 1972 Corvette, and the 1972 Camaro.  Take a look at the taillights.

  

Pretty similar, huh?  Oh wait...they're the same.

Things change people.  If you listen to the adverts for the car: "...Everything in this car is new..."  I don't think I'd hear you complaining if they used the same bolts to hold the car together as they used for the Camaro.

So stop moaning over the fact that you don't have round taillights anymore, and just be thankful you have a Corvette.

Crash Landing

Recently, I read an article in the Winter 2013 issue of North Country Living Magazine.  It tells the story of paranoid Cold War America and the 12 Atlas F missile silos within a 40 mile radius of each other in the North Country.  Now, not every region in Cold War America had 12 nuclear missile silos, mind you—because of its mid-air refueling capabilities, the Plattsburgh Air Force Base was the third Soviet missile strike target behind Washington, D.C. and NORAD (North American Aerospace Defense Command) in Colorado Springs, Colorado.

I'm sorry to say, but this is a topic I find much more interesting than the best hiking spots.  As much as I enjoy hiking, I enjoy reading about 20th century American history much more.  Naturally, the Cold War and preventative measures (like the ones put in place in the North Country) are part of that.

Unfortunately, though, as much as I enjoyed the topic, I did not enjoy the article.  I found it to be only satisfactorily written and just as poorly researched.  For example, the author, Lou Varricchio, quotes an "ICBM expert" named Cliff Lethbridge.  That's all he is referred to, an "ICBM expert".  I could just as easily read extensively about ICBMs and the Atlas/Titan programs and call myself an expert.  Not only do I have no idea of Mr. Lethbridge's qualifications, but I certainly won't learn of them from this article.  Anyway, another part that irked me about this source is the information he gave.  An excerpt from the article:

"According to ICBM expert Cliff Lethbridge, the Atlas Fs deployed in upstate New York and Vermont were reliable and their nuclear warheads could pack a wallop.  The exact details of the weapon the Atlas F would have carried to the enemy remains classified to this day.
'The TSM-65F Atlas, or Atlas-F, was 82 feet, six inches long,' Lethbridge says.  'It was approximately 10 feet in diameter and could fly more than 11,500 miles.'
Lethbridge has a special fondness for the many Atlas rocket variants that have flown over the years, but he especially likes the F version."

Good job on your AP Style with the zero through nine rule, Mr. Varricchio, but that's about the only thing that's redeeming about this excerpt.  The first part that I have an issue with is the order of the quote versus the editorial.  The previous paragraph mentions how reliable and powerful the missile was, and how the details of the warhead are classified.  Then the quote goes into describing the size and range of the rocket—and nothing about how reliable or powerful it was.  The previous paragraph should have been a lead-in to the quote, if the author was intent on keeping it there, and should have read "The Atlas F was a gargantuan object and its range was of equal scale" or something to that effect.

The second part of the problem I have with this excerpt is the information Lethbridge gives.  I should think that an "ICBM expert" would be able to give me more information than that of which I could learn with a simple Google search.  The quote itself reads like Lethbridge was reading it directly out of a book.

The rest of the article was just poorly executed.  One bit that stood out to me especially was when the author wrote about the reluctance of the people who own the sites of the missile silos (they're privately owned now).  He began the section with an attempt at a humorous question that simply wasn't.

"Perhaps the legacy of the Cold War era, still fresh in the minds of aging local residents, creates unpleasant memories?  None of the current owners of the silo properties we contacted wanted to be interviewed for this article.  Two of the landowners blamed their reluctance to discuss their underground treasures on a news story about the silos that appeared in a Vermont weekly newspaper in 2006."

It is my belief that a) one should not lead in to anything with a rhetorical question, and b) one should not mention oneself, the article, or the publication within the article.  Also, if I as a reader wanted to read the article that the landowners reference, I would have no idea where to look, or where even to begin.

Overall, as much as I enjoyed the topic, I found it very, very difficult to enjoy the article.  I believe either the author did not know what he was doing, or simply did not take the article seriously enough.  That's not to say it doesn't have its good parts, but they are few and far between.  I can honestly say that this rocket article has crash landed.

How many engineers does it take to test an engine?

I really need to work on getting my blogs in on time.  However, I've been cut off on memoir writing, so I can't say anymore on the matter.  Next topic, please.

I don't think I can say I'm 100% accurate on this situation, not because of any lack of research, but because there is no background to be researched.  It's very possible this might not even be the fault of the publication, but rather the author's source.  So basically, this is mostly speculation.

I've seen this in just about every publication about this car, so it leads me to believe that it is the fault of the manufacturer, not any of those publications.  However, since I read Car & Driver and that's where I saw it first, I'll focus on that.

Recently, I read the January 2013 issue of Car & Driver Magazine on Zinio (an online or mobile e-reader which I recommend to anyone—full issues of magazines for up to 67% off news stand price, which is excellent.  Plus, they have back issues (at least in C/D's case) up to January 2005).  Specifically, I was reading the article on the new 2014 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray—naturally, since I'm a huge fan of the Corvette and come from a 'Vette-owning family, including one of the original Stingrays, this was a sort of nostalgic thing for me.  Anyway, I was reading about the new engine that Chevrolet designed for the base  Stingray coupe and convertible (no word yet on a Z06 or ZR1).  It's an absolutely beautiful piece of machinery: Direct Injection, Variable Valve Timing, Cylinder Deactivation, all wrapped up in 378 cubic inches (6.2L) of good old, classic, American pushrod V8.  See?  You can be patriotic and be efficient while doing it, too.

Now, that's all well and good, but here's the thing that irks me.  When they mention the power output, they say an "estimated" 450 horsepower and "estimated" 450 lb.-ft. of torque.  How do you have "estimated" power output?  How do you design and produce a car and not know what kind of power it makes?  Now, here's where I stopped myself.  These car magazines are released one month early or so—that's even the tagline of the article.  The official release date for the Stingray was January 13, 2013.  Since readers would have gotten this issue back in December 2012, as of printing time on the January 2013 issue, the next 'Vette wasn't officially released to the public just yet.  It was at this point that I pulled back the leash on my bloodhound of automotive journalism opinions.  The worst was yet to come, however.

January 13, 2013, came and went.  I momentarily died from feel overdose when I saw the next 'Vette unveiled, was revived, and immediately changed my cover photo on Facebook from the one I'd had for over a year, to one of the Stingray.  Of course, I had my gripes about the car, such as the Camaro-esque tailights, but I dismissed these in favor of innovation, the same way I did when they did away with the pop-up headlights of the C5.  Anyway, this is a magazine review, not a Corvette review.

Here's the part that just sends me off the edge.  It is now March 12th, nearly 2 months to the day after the next 'Vette was unveiled, and it's still rated at an "estimated" 450 horsepower!  They've even released the convertible version of the car, about a month after the coupe.  But somehow, no one can tell me the actual power output of the car?  C/D, Motor Trend, Chevrolet, somebody—will someone please put this damned engine on a dynamometer so we can actually know what kind of power this car that we're about to spend $50,000+ actually makes??  Ugh, people.  See you later guys, I'm moving to the moon. 

JOU309A Blog Post #2

Well, to put it simply, this is a blog post about a blog post.  Specifically, this blog post ("Postception"?).  It really pertains, though, to a lot of different things and journalists around the world.

Yes, this blog is late.  I've come to terms with that.  I no longer believe that it is, indeed, the apocalypse;  I've come back up from the underground caves, re-deposited my savings back into my bank account (although in retrospect, money would be useless in a post-apocalyptic world anyway), returned all of the canned, nonperishable food and water bottles to WalMart, and am no longer under the belief that a Sovie—scratch that, a Cyphers nuclear missile strike is inbound right for my head.

That being said, I did a lot of thinking in those underground caves, and I've thought a lot specifically of a "problem", so to speak, that plagues myself and many other journalists around the world.  I put "problem" in quotations because it's one of those oddities that can be considered both good and bad.  That "problem" is our tendency (or at the very least my tendency, but I know I can't be the only one that does this) to push off work until the very last minute, right to the deadline.  Now, like I said, this is both good and bad.  It's bad, obviously, because instead of having a smooth and consistent 15-35 percent load throughout the allotted time, you have a 100 percent load all at once—and that's just not healthy.

However, this can be good, depending on your point of view.  Basically, I tend to do my best work, ironically enough, at the 11th hour.  This comes from years and years of procrastination "pushing the envelope", as I like to call it.  However, like all risk-taking activities, it comes at a price.  Specifically for me, sleep—the one thing I hold dear—and premature stress-related aging.  Pushing the envelope and loading every assignment up like that is like throwing your car into a corner on a wet road at 40 mph—it will jump back and bite you "di-rect-ly in the but-tocks", as Forrest Gump would say.

Just a basic overview of all of the assignments that I loaded up on myself for this weekend:

-a 1500 word magazine feature story of which I had all of about 0 words, due Monday.
-a 300 word short story article (also for 309A...a recurring theme, perhaps?), of which I had, again, 0 words, due Tuesday.
-Three different chapter critiques for Photojournalism, due Monday.  I had a legitimate reason for this—my book only recently (within the past few days) came in the mail.
-an Audio/Video Production project (I only received the assignment on Friday, so I don't feel as guilty about this one), due Monday.
-This blog post, due Friday.

Now, that may not sound like much to the average reader, but let me tell you, that is a [insert expletive here]--ton of work, especially when that natural instinct to procrastinate push the envelope kicks in, and you feel that giving your room a complete overhaul and covering Women's Hockey and Men's Basketball games are better uses of your time (the latter I could see being of decent importance, so again, I don't feel as guilty).

If anything, I feel like believe (see Mr. Cyphers? I was paying attention) they're wasting their time with all of those other 12-step programs.  There should be one specifically for journalists like myself who are under the assumption that our journalistic creations don't carry the same weight if they don't have a certain amount of drama associated with them, with said drama usually being acquired through 11th-hour work.  I can just see it now..."Hi, I'm Matt, and I like to push the envelope"..."Hi Matt."..."No you don't, stupid—you procrastinate!"

However, until someone goes ahead and implements that obviously very clever and intelligent idea, we're just going to have to quit it cold turkey.  So guys, let's cut the bullcrap.  This goes for me too—manage your time wisely, don't waste it on useless things, and get your stuff done and submitted in a timely manner.  The wee hours of the morning are for sleeping, not for furiously hammering away at a computer keyboard.

JOU309A  Blog #1

Recently, I read an article in a print copy of Hemmings Muscle Machines (a subsidiary of Hemmings Motor News that focuses solely on American "muscle cars"), November 2012 issue, called "Green Power".  The article, a sort of spoof on the "going green" campaign, features a Palmetto Green 1966 Pontiac GTO.  I thoroughly enjoyed it, partly because of the mechanical humor, but also because it was well written.  The author listed these reasons for his belief that the '66 GTO is actually a "green", or environmentally conscious, car:

• The car's color is Palmetto, a green hued paint.
• The '66 GTO is a 60's "mid-size" car, but by today's definition that actually means it is slightly longer than a new Cadillac Escalade (an SUV).  "Both machines will fit five people with little trouble.  Both employ body-on-frame construction. (And today, a GTO this nice will probably run you new-Escalade money.) Yet the GTO is a comparative flyweight: it weighs an entire ton less than Caddy's big truck.  Fewer raw materials, check."
• "As for those materials... the GTO is largely metal, with some glass and plastic bits...and steel is plentiful here in the U.S.  Increasingly, plastic rivals metal in our new cars' makeup, inside and out.  (So the new machine is made of lighter materials, and still weighs a ton more?  Really?)"
• "Plus, plastic is a petrochemical derivative.  If weaning ourselves off oil is one of the goals of the green movement, and cars are increasingly comprised of plastic, doesn't this become self defeating?  And don't get us started on a Prius's batteries, which use Canadian-sourced nickel, which is then shipped across the Pacific to make batteries,  then shipped again worldwide.  What's all that transport back and forth worth, environmentally?"
• Telling the story of the GTO's conception: the Chevy Volt cost $750 million to develop, which is nothing compared to the '96 Ford Taurus ($3 billion in 1996 dollars—and on a carry-over platform) and the '93 Ford Contour ($6 billion in 1993 dollars).  Then the GTO: "Five Pontiac bigwigs look at a '64 Pontiac Tempest on a four-post lift and think, "Hey, we could wedge a 389 in there."  They did, slapped on some badges and a hood scoop, and the result was sent down the assembly line."
• "The occasional urge to open things up (as we had an opportunity to do) is unavoidable in a machine like a GTO; the exhaust snarl, the slick move of the Hurst shifter, the deep-breathing triple carburetors—all beckon you to get on it now and again.  That's not a particularly eco-friendly state, granted.  Yet, at cruising speeds, only the GTO's center carburetor (a two-barrel carb, thank you) is active.  Reduced fuel intake means reduced emissions.  The four-speed is also a crucial ingredient here.  Automatics are heavier and sap more of an engine's power than a manually shifted transmission.  Plus, you (and not a vacuum line or solenoid) control the revs at which you shift."
• "And while cruising may not sound environmentally responsible, in Brian's (the owner) case, there are always two people going to the same place in the GTO, so automatically, it's a carpool—two people in a 16 MPG car burns as much fuel as two people going to the same place, each driving a 32 MPG car, so we're going to consider that a form of efficiency."

As you can see, there is a bit of sarcastic humor written into this article.  People are always ranking on muscle cars because of their poor emissions and fuel mileage, so it's nice to take a step back and appreciate them, and they can even be comparatively efficient at times, too.

Here's a link to the original article.