I used to be a huge Cannondale fan, but not anymore. After they went hell for leather with their awesome dirt and supermoto motorcycles at the end of the 1990’s, they went bankrupt and were owned by a few people, and finally Pacific—who owns lots of Wal-Mart type brands—acquired them.  Some of their bikes are really cheap now, and most just look chintzy and plasticky to me.

Trek is my new pet—I especially like their old road bikes, with simple steel frames and their classic logos.  This summer, I had a chance to ride one of their finest, the Fuel EX 9.5.

I’d been waiting for months, wondering what it would be like to step astride one of America’s finest bikes.  It was going to come with carbon bits, magnesium bits, wildly sophisticated suspension, and two big discs.

When it arrived, I pulled it out of the box and got to savor each component before I assembled the thing.  Glossy carbon shifter pods held carbon levers to carbon bars clamped by a carbon stem, spaced by carbon spacers away from the carbon frame.  Somehow the grain even matched.  The rear derailleur had a carbon plate on it, and the seatpost was carbon too.  As Elliott VanOrman would say, “I got a fever and the only prescription is more carbon!”

As I finished assembling it, I poured over the big magnesium link that was in the rear suspension, the concentric rear-axle/pivot arrangement which supposedly isolates the rear suspension from braking forces (to allow better bump absorption during braking), and the massive machined aluminum adjustment knobs on the Fox shocks.  The finish of all the components was quite fantastic.  It looked like a piece of jewelry.

It also looked like a weapon, color-matched all black with red and white accents.  The Bontrager components definitely let you know who made them, and included the wheels, hubs, tires, seat, seat collar, bars, and stem.  Shimano made only the crankset, chain/cassette, and front derailleur.  Avid brakes and rotors rounded out the package.

First time out on it, I entered a race on an extremely rocky course in upper Manhattan—on a trail that in parts is as bad as a beginners observed trials course.  Even the riders on high-end full-suspension bikes gawked at the Trek. At the beginning of the race though, the suspension felt awkward (my normal steed is a fully rigid Cannondale M700 from 1992).  I was steering around the bumps and throwing my weight around, and the suspension would rebound just when I was about to hit another rock, and I would lose momentum.  By the end of the second lap, however, I began to ride straight through the bumps, lean back a little, and would pedal through them.  This put the suspension to much better use, and it worked with the bumps a lot better.

On the faster, less technical trails of Blue Mountain, NY (just up the Hudson from NYC), the bike really came into its own.  There was one fire road littered with softball sized rocks—and it was the same story as before.  Weaving through them would upset the suspension and cause a loss of momentum.  Powering straight through—absolutely flat out—would allow the suspension to smooth out the rocks and get the power to the ground—it just sucked up the bumps, and didn’t bob much when the   It was an incredible feeling, so thoroughly different from a rigid bike.   I took it off a few 3-4 foot drops and—predictably—it didn’t skip a beat.  I suspect it could take a lot more.

I love simple bikes, but it was a treat to ride this most complicated of Treks.  I liked showing up to a race on the sickest bike for once, and to intimidate my competition before the race even started.  And for rough, long races, I’d not prefer to be aboard any other package.

Here are a few of my favorite details.  I especially like the swirls on the cable housing and the hollow bottom bracket spindle.

Not all of Park Tool’s tools are made in the USA anymore—think of that what you may—but at least they haven’t made it hard to crack the code– If the logo on the tool says “Park Tool USA,” it is made in the USA. Tools that just say “Park Tool” are made by an oversea supply house, and don’t have the same high-quality finish. In the AK-37 kit, just the cable-cutters and four screwdrivers were imported.

The AK-37 is Park Tool USA’s third largest toolkit and is just right for a home-mechanic (the more comprehensive toolkits include wheel-dishing tools, a third-hand brake tool, and tools for headset installation). The AK-37 includes several great tools. It’s got some pedestrian tools—screwdrivers and allen keys, for example, but has some cyclist-specific tools as well, like the chain scrubber. Your favorite tools will be the ones that were missing or underperforming in your old toolbox.

Even a site that wasn’t celebrating American-made products would separate the cable-cutters and screwdrivers from the rest on finish alone. They are clearly subpar—While the cone wrenches, for instance, have lovely, long lasting PVC vinyl caps, the imported tools are covered in mottled bits of soft rubber, with a “Park Tool” logo poorly molded in. The metal bits are silver, and it might just be suspicion, but the metal feels soft in the screwdrivers (they haven’t worn in a funny way yet, however). The five imported tools feel just a little bit lower quality than Craftsman. The cable-cutters are, however, my favorite tool in the whole set, as they do a stunning job cutting housing.

Snip! The CN-10 Cable Cutter (Imported)

The domestically-made tools are nicer though. Their handles are that tough blue PVC, and most of the steel is finished with a lovely tough slightly-rough black finish. It’s a finish that looks like it was born to do work. The finish of the domestic tools feels somewhere between Craftsman and Snap-On.

Park Tool CC-3 Chain-Wear Indicator

The most hilarious tool in the whole set is the chain-wear indicator It is a “crazy H” shaped tool that you wedge into the chain. If it fits, you need a new chain (0.75% stretch from new. Flip it upside down and it tells you if you need a chain even more badly (1% stretch from new). A stretched chain wears the cogs more quickly and doesn’t shift as well, and this tool makes it really easy to diagnose.

Before and after the Chain Cleaner

The AK-37 toolkit also comes with a chain cleaner, which is a box full of brushes and sponges. You put the chain in it, fill it up with solvent, and start turning the cranks. After a minute the chain is cleaned off. The cleaner works fairly well, and likely does a great job if you start off with a fairly clean chain. However, we only had a chance to use it on a super filthy chain, which it did an admirable job of cleaning. The little brushes and wheels inside the box have metal axles, which for some reason are separate—one fell down the drain while cleaning grease off the brushes in the sink—very frustrating. Also, one can’t help but wonder if it would be faster to clean the chain in a pool of solvent. That way you can clean the cassette, derailleur pulleys, and chainrings separately. Maybe others would think differently.

Beside’s, Park Tool’s Chain Brute is so beautiful that you’ll want to pop your chain off whenever you get a chance. It weighs a ton and gives you enough leverage to pop out stubborn links. No more sore thumbs.

And how about all those other tools? The cone wrenches are useful for rebuilding hubs, and the chain whip / cassette tools make it easy to swap cogs on the rear hub.

The tool kit also includes some very sturdy tire levers, a narrow 9/16 and 15mm pedal wrench, a few bottom bracket tools, a tire boot, some lube, some grease, and another one of my favorites, a chainring bolt wrench.

To the casual mechanic, this may seem like everything you could ever need, but Park tool has a great many other tools, they also make the great 3rd hand brake tool, truing stands, bike stands, and plenty of repair tools. However, the AK-37 makes a great start to a mechanics set, and includes very nearly every tool the casual cyclist will ever need.

More Info:

Park Tool Usa : AK-37

When it was released in 2004, Ford’s Escape Hybrid was America’s first hybrid, quite
fittingly an SUV. Back then, a hybrid SUV was practically an oxymoron, and Ford thought it would appeal only to a very specific type of person. The Escape Hybrid has always looked butch, but it didn’t pack the V8 punch SUV drivers had been used to. It has only 155 bhp, and can tow just 1000 pounds. Four wheel drive costs extra.

But in its first year, Ford sold 4 times as many Escape Hybrids as they had planned. It it easy to see why—it has all the benefits of a hybrid, but appeals to people who aren’t quite ready to let go of their SUV’s. It also appealed to those who have always wanted a butch little truck but couldn’t quite stand their thirst for fuel.

That’s what the numbers say, anyway. The truth is that hybrids are just really fun to drive, regardless of economy. They bring the simple joy of high-performance cars to people who don’t enjoy driving fast. Of course, if you really aren’t interested you can just plop it in “D”, and gas is gas, brakes are brakes. But once the gas engine warms up, the Escape Hybrid will switch into “electric only” mode when cruising along at under 30 mph—the gas engine only coming on when accelerating hard (and the electric motor will assist), or when the battery gets low (after 2-3 miles). In the suburbs, people only drive under 30 mph in subdivisions or parking lots, but in slow city driving the Escape Hybrid can be coaxed to stay in “electric mode” more than half the time.

And so driving the Escape Hybrid immediately becomes a game not just for high fuel economy (the car returned 32mpg both when cruising at 70mph and while crawling the streets of Manhattan) but for keeping it in electric mode as much as possible.

Electric mode is whimsical. The first time the gas engine cuts out at a stop, you instinctively reach for the key—before thinking “oh that’s right, it’s a hybrid.” If the air-conditioning is off, you can even hear the gas slosh when you stop—there really is no sound at all. But when you ease off the car eerily creeps forward as if it were pointed downhill. Press the accelerator and the Escape proceeds in near silence—it sounds like a muffled monorail. It’s addictive.

In fact, it’s so civilized that the gas motor’s eventual ignition seems intrusive. Compared to electric mode, even a Roll Royce would seem agricultural—after all, they do run on highly flammable liquid and make millions of explosions under the hood. The gas motor in the Escape is smooth, however, and provides acceleration that’s more than adequate.

The Escape Hybrid’s transmission is special too—Ford calls it an eCVT, and it drives like an automatic, with one crucial difference—it doesn’t have any “gears”. There’s no hunting for the perfect gear when accelerating from a rolling stop, and no unsettling kickdown to power over hills—just the uninterrupted rush of power that only variable gearing can provide. Compared to automatic transmissions and their complex adaptive shifting patterns, the eCVT almost seems simple. An electric motor controls a planetary gearset—setting the ratio between the gas motor, the generator, and the wheels. For more information, click here (the Prius drivetrain is identical conceptually).

The batteries are also charged by regenerative brakes. Their action is just barely detectable in normal braking, but it is possible to sense them click off after slowing to a stop. Careful braking becomes part of the game too—with practice it is possible to brake lightly and avoid the energy wasting friction brakes and get the maximum charge during deceleration.

Ford wisely configured the ride for comfort on the road, since most Hybrid owners are unlikely to venture too far offroad. Even so, the Escape has 8 inches of ground clearance, and a look on youtube shows the hybrid and its brothers can get out of some sticky situations.

The interior of the car looks modern and is well laid-out, and the seats are comfortable over long distances (They feature Ford’s new Soy based seat foam). Our tester came loaded with navigation, parking sensors, leather seats, and electric everything. Heck, our Escape Hybrid even came with a 110V socket that you can plug household stuff into (part of the $1200 Hybrid Premium Package). A hybrid-owning friend who said she uses her blowdrier in hers while her husband drives. Folding the 60/40 rear seats frees up enough room to carry about five twin mattresses, but we didn’t see any easily available tiedowns on the hatch. Free beds for all!

So it is fun to drive, is light on gas, and has a reasonable amount of storage space. Its “hybridness” even pleases the tax man. Most hybrids are still eligible for a tax credit. The 2008 Ford Escape Hybrid, for instance, can net you a $3000 credit. That’s a credit, not a deduction, so it’s a real $3000 in your pocket.

South Park may crack jokes about hybrids, but driving them is enlightening, and you realize that diesels may not take off the way many predict—even though they are efficient and proven—because they just don’t feel as relaxing, as green, or as advanced as hybrids do. I used to have mixed feelings about luxury cars with hybrid drives, but now I realize that the whole experience of driving has been taken to a higher level, and that the hybrid game can be about more than just fuel economy.

Escape Hybrids start at $25,075. We’d spec the great $1200 Hybrid Premium Package, which includes the leather package, 110V outlet, and power mirrors, heated seats, and a roof rack. The $2695 navigation system was uninspiring, so we’d likely just get a Tom Tom. The $195 chrome appearance package just made the car look self-conscious.

We love:

Smooth ride
Zippy performance
8 year/100k mile warranty on the hybrid drivetrain
$3000 tax credit
eCVT transmission
Fuel Economy
The silence
110V plug inside

We loathe:

The navigation system
Sensitive parking sensors
Kid proof interior

Trucks have always been hard to test. With a twisty road, a set of bumps, and a long highway you can learn a lot about a car. Throw in a track day and you’re all set. But a truck is a different animal. An animal, in fact. Most people think trucks are about off-roading. Trucks can off-road. But they’re best at making money.

Five years ago, I for the first time saw the light when it comes to trucks. A guy on a bus told me that if you have a truck, you can “always run a hustle, and if you use a truck right, it can pay for itself.” I was still dreaming of buying a sports car, but the idea that a truck could pay for itself merited further investigation.

The more you spend on that sports car, he told me, the more you’ll lose. Want a Mustang? Have you thought about the Cobra? It would look great with tinted windows and some bigger wheels. But it’s really just a liability—and the more you cars you have, the more money you lose.

Trucks are different, he told me. Someone always needs to borrow a truck (and will fill it with gas or give beer in return). And if you use it properly, a truck can put money in your pocket. They can push, haul, and tow. Big trucks with big pricetags mean big paychecks. Got two trucks? Get two paychecks.

I realized that to do anything meaningful, you need at least a 1500, preferably the cheapest you can find. That usually means finding a relative who works at one of the big 3, and working out a deal with a friendly dealer. When gas prices go up, truck prices go down, and after Katrina it was possible to get a 24-month lease on a Dodge Ram 1500 with a Hemi for zero-down and $120 a month.

My friend Kyle has a Dodge 1500 (and two other trucks). He made a deal with a local sports team to tow two 10,000lb trailers five miles across town every Sunday. It took an hour and a half and he got $200.

During the winter, he’d throw plows on the front of his trucks and plow residential driveways for $30 a piece (about 20 minutes), and he’d plow commercial lots for sixty dollars an hour (his friends would man the other trucks).

One snowing night, I met him at his house at 2 AM to accompany him on a plow run. It felt bonkers compared to just about anything else I’ve done in a car. In near total darkness, we sailed down a snow-covered half-mile long driveway off a dirt road with nothing to mark where to plow other than a pair of trees every 300 feet or so. The windshield wipers were covered with ice, and the headlights above the plow were weak and aimed wrong.

As a passenger, I didn’t have much to do but choose the music while he worked the corded controller that controls the plow’s height and angle. After we finished the ten driveways, we headed down to 4 giant commercial lots in Troy, MI. It was still snowing hard.

Kyle kept the controller in his right hand, and as we slammed into the rising snowbank at the end of each push, he’d raise the plow while putting the column-shifter into reverse. Then he’d look over his right shoulder with his left hand on the wheel and floor it. We’d race backwards until we got to the other end of the lot and slid to a halt. He’d drop the plow to “float”, shift into D, and accelerate back toward the snowbank. The Hemi could spin the wheels all the way down the run, but his 4.6L 1500 Dodge could do the same and had a better stereo, so that’s the one he preferred to drive (the Hemi was better at towing, however).

The best part? When Kyle was driving the Hemi and his friend Brandon was driving Kyle’s dump truck. It was coming up on 3PM and we were pushing snow in an empty L-shaped parking lot between two warehouses. The sun was peeking blue through the clouds for the first time all day and transformed the snow from gray to blazing white and this insane Mortal Kombat Megamix came up on the CD. The two trucks floated up and down opposite legs of the L, narrowly missing each other on each stroke in this lumbering slow-motion ballet while a demomic voice churned in the foreground “ROUND ONE, fight, perfect, finish him, fatality, Sonya Blade, Sub Zero, Scorpion, fight!” and those five terrific minutes more than made up for the twelve hours of being cold and drowsy while occasionally pushing random people’s cars out of snowdrifts and gnawing on old roastbeef submarine sandwiches.

And he’d paid for the sandwiches, since his trucks had long since paid for themselves.

It was love at first sight. The color, the lines, even the thickness of the frame— it all came together as a striking modern speedster with a hint of traditional 50s charm. The late-80’s Cannondale blended in perfectly when I first saw it against the backdrop of a brick-lined apartment. The pedals even had classic rat-traps with leather straps in place. The beauty is truly in the fine details though, like the lack of weld beads. They’ve been ground down so that the frame looks and feels as though it was forged as one single piece.

My initial experience with the bike however, was less harmonious. The story begins during a visit to New York, and Nick decided that the best way for us see the city was to ride around on bicycles. He would ride a borrowed Fuji fixed gear conversion that had no brakes— and I’d be astride the Cannondale. While this seemed like a completely rational proposal to him, there was one inherent problem. I had never ridden a road bike before—let alone one with rat-trap pedals.

Now, if I were riding on a calm suburban road, then I would’ve been calm, composed, and ready to handle anything. Unfortunately, this was in New York traffic. Unsurprisingly then, there were problems after we initially set off. When that first truck cut in front and slammed on its brakes, I had to stop on a dime. And because I was strapped to the pedals, I keeled over in the middle of traffic. My life flashed before my eyes as I cried out for help. Nick, on the other hand, rode on, unaware of my pleas. I had scuffed my elbow, but the bike had not one single scratch.

As I sped along, the Cannondale held up with incredible ease to all the bumps and potholes I overlooked. The bike would glide over any punishment I inflicted as if nothing had happened. I noticed too that the short stance would allow me to weave through traffic when I dared, while the light weight and smooth bearings kept me going with minimal effort. The shifters were located on the lower frame tube in a well-chosen place. It served to keep the handlebars uncluttered and the bike simple.

In the end however, the most remarkable thing was that I could ride a road bike for the first time, in New York City. The bike felt so natural to ride; it took only a few minutes to become acquainted. Having the ability to see and experience the city firsthand, right after hopping on a road bike for the first time, was truly astonishing.

The Cannondale exudes an unspeakable allure that is tough to match. It has all the capabilities of a modern road bike, but at the same time possesses a certain style and flair of its own. Sure, many companies out there make all sorts of different models with new-fangled bits and pieces, but for an urban companion, you’ll struggle to better an elegant vintage Cannondale.

Purchased at online auction for $110 – Manufactured Aug 28, 1987, original MSRP: $599.99. Such a short bike, with braze-on front derailleur, chunky seat-stays, fluted seatpost, and lugged steel fork with recessed posterior brake-bolt.

For more information visit Vintage Cannondale:
Vintage Cannondale – Home
1987 Cannondale catalog (pdf)

Cannondale - Home

- Hamilton Carhartt

Hamilton Carhartt grew up in Southern Michigan, though he was born in New York. When he was 34 years old, he founded Carhartt—with just 5 workers and 4 sewing machines. The six of them made railroad clothing made from duck and denim, and Carhartt’s business grew rapidly for the next 20 years. But the great depression hit Carhartt hard, and they had to scale back operations dramatically. Afterwards, however, Carhartt moved operations to Irvine, Kentucky, and grew his business to include 17 mills on two continents. Hamilton passed away in 1937, but his company is still family owned and committed to providing “Best-in-Class apparel for the active worker.”

Some of Carhartt’s work clothes are still made in the USA—in fact, they put out a bi-fold pamphlet that details all their “Union-Made in the USA” products (though their catalog for globally-sourced clothing is nearer 200 pages).

The “Union Made” pamphlet has some jeans, overalls, and two zip-up flannel-lined hoodies, but the standout is the UC03 Duck Traditional coat.

I first learned about the UC03 at Dave’s New York, a workwear supply store in New York City. The founder’s grandson said to me “we grew up wearing these coats—they’re warm man, we used to throw ‘em on over our t-shirts and play in the snow all day.” I was hooked, and lucky enough to get a UC03 for Christmas.

It’s got rib-knit storm cuffs to keep cold air from rushing into the sleeves, a drawstring-cinched waist, and triple-stitched main seams. That zipper is a whopper—sized for a hockey bag but made of steel—and the brass-plating provides a nice slash down the middle of the coat’s rich black woven shell.

The luxurious looking quilted interior is initially what drew me to this coat—I had been wearing an ill-fitting imported peacoat before it—and I liked that the UC03 comes in suit sizes: my UC03 isn’t a “Large”, it’s a 40 Long, and it fits dang well because of it. Or does now, at least. When it first arrived it felt unnaturally square and puffy, but over the past three months it has worn in so it fits comfortably.

Back to the interior. The hidden storm cuffs do a fine job keeping warm air in the sleeves, and the polyester-stuffed quilt keeps you warm—very warm—even in zero-degree weather. The nylon interior lining is a bit of a letdown—it looks wonderful, but feels like it could tear easily—though in my three-and-a-half months of ownership it has yet to show signs of wear.

It should be noted that the coat isn’t waterproof—the exterior is made of cotton and gets damp when it rains. It hasn’t been a major problem and it dries quickly, but it’s still a better choice for snow than rain.

However—there is no better choice than a classic Carhartt Duck jacket when you want to look and feel like a genuine worker. As soon as you put it on you’re on-site, smoking on breaks, manning a jackhammer under floodlights on a subzero-night, and punching out at 7AM. Indeed, Carhartt’s American-made “U” series is union-made in the USA, and they know how to put out inexpensive, long-lasting gear.

For $90, you can’t beat Carhartt’s jacket. Nobody questions the style—you can be on the way to your daughter’s birthday party. You can be taking the day off as an important figure. You can rely on it to keep you warm and it will hold up to tough conditions. And should you burn a hole or shoot a nail through it, there’s a pile more jackets waiting for you in any size—from 38 to 50L—you may desire.

More: Carhartt - Home

by Hardy Shen

At the start of this week, I came to a traumatizing realization. Every single article on the Ford Mustang GT that I read gave it some sort of positive review. I was infuriated. No matter how hard I clawed at my brain, I just couldn’t see why. Various reviews praised aspects of the car that I knew were complete rubbish. How, I thought, could they get away with such blatant lies? I knew it wasn’t a good car and something had to be done. With hat in hand, I set out to prove them wrong.

My debut with the Mustang was when it first arrived at dealerships and my initial impression of the car was—unhappily—not a very good one. I was immensely disappointed because after all the publicity around the prototype’s unveiling, I expected something astounding. Cool dark photos had revealed the prototype in the most provocative ways, and I wanted adrenaline to course through my veins as I stepped into the car. I wanted it to make me quiver with anticipation as I turned the key. I wanted something to blow my mind as I drove down the road and wish with every fiber in my body that the car was mine. It was Ford’s modern retake on the Mustang that would hold true to its legendary roots, and it did. But unfortunately, it held onto much more than just memorable styling.

The most outrageous aspect of the car is its sheer size. It is absolutely, without a doubt, hugely, tremendously, appallingly, shockingly massive. It’s so big, in fact, playing chicken with freight trucks would be entirely possible. I had seen the prototype in person a year earlier and although it seemed a little large for my taste, I never actually realized its immense bulk until I physically traced it in person. As I walked around the car, which took several days, a feeling of dread came over me. I knew then and there I was going to be let down. It was going to be a classic case of ‘never meet your childhood heroes.’

To start off, I was thoroughly disgusted at its solid rear-axle. Ford sought off-the-line performance, so they had their engineers “develop a three-link, solid-axle rear suspension with outboard-mounted shocks and a Panhard rod to do just that.” I’m sorry, but there is nothing to develop with a live axle set up. The technology was invented right after the Stone Age, and unless you consider ripping an axle off a truck and cutting it down to size development, it just isn’t true. And so, with an iron beam connecting the wheels in the rear, you’d expect the handling to be awful right? Wrong. The handling was worse than awful. It was utterly abysmal.

Usually, to provide a ride that’s both comfortable and sporty, a compromise has to be met so that a car will glide over potholes and kiss the cracks on the road, but be rigid enough to allow the vehicle to make nippy turns without barreling over. Unfortunately, the Mustang achieves neither. Sure the springs are plenty soft, but they only serve to cause the car to sway like a dinghy in rough seas. Honestly, there wasn’t a hint of grace or poise at all. Turning a corner was like a medieval knight sword-fighting but with a trout— awkward and sloppy. Perhaps they sacrificed handling for ride comfort? No! I could still feel every nick and blemish on the road. What then was the point of making the suspension this way? What’s the point of having a classic throwback with all the old drawbacks?

But in spite of its faults, I could never hate the car. After my first test drive, I walked away with confusion. Not only did I find this car abhorrent, I also loved it. For the longest time, I could never figure out the rationale behind my thoughts. It was only on my second test drive that I started to realize why. The interior, for example, is noticeably handsome and laid out rather conveniently as well. The seats feel rather wide, but I realized that if they’re large enough to accommodate a rhinoceros, they’ll be able to fit any American just fine. They weren’t designed with a small Asian in mind, but a large 300 lb male.

As for the handling, even though Ford had stiffened up the chassis, the drive still felt mostly the same. But because I already knew the capabilities of the car, I never focused on the faults at all. As I drove along, the car made more and more sense to me. And something strange happened. Every time I came to a stoplight, I’d have a tremendous urge to leave in a cloud of white smoke, or drag race whoever was beside me; even if it was a minivan full of kids. I would floor the throttle randomly at times just to hear the engine grunt and feel the car lift its nose like an angry stallion. It would hold a slide with ease, for as long as I wanted—heaps of smoke pouring from my rear wheels. I would catch myself at times—grinning from ear to ear—as I dabbed some opposite lock on the steering wheel. I appreciated how easy it was to coax the back end into a drift with the help of the V8 engine and the live axle.

Burnout! by Sarah Wilson

I was slowly uncovering the basis of why I could never hate the Mustang, but it wasn’t until I drove on the highway that the reason was fully revealed. As I turned onto the onramp and cruised along at night, it hit me. It was dark, it was late, and even though I had missed an exit, I didn’t have a worry in the world because at that very moment, I was exactly where I wanted to be. I was in an American legend on a long empty stretch of highway. The yellow markers on the ground. The miles and miles of asphalt. The glow from the passing streetlamps. Looking around at the odd car I’d pass, I knew I was part of something much more special than any Mercedes or BMW driver could ever wish to be. And that was it. The Mustang brought about emotions and conveyed thoughts like an old trusty companion. It gave a sense of nostalgia, of purpose, and of significance.

The long slides, the drag strip, and the roaring engine: they all made sense to me now. No matter what I was doing or where I was headed, I was in my very own classic road movie. I was a part of an American saga that only a car like the Mustang could recreate. The handling may be utterly hopeless, but the pure joy of throwing the car around by the scruff of its neck in a tail happy slide will make anyone chuckle with satisfaction. So in the end, the Mustang proved me wrong. I too stepped out of the car with a smile on my face—I, like so many before me, had been captivated by an experience that was indescribably enchanting.

Note: The car pictured is a Shelby Mustang GT-H–the car reviewed was a Mustang GT)

Hardy Shen is a senior Mechanical Engineering student at Duke University. In his spare time, he builds race cars for the Duke Formula SAE team and travels across the world. You can read more of his auto reviews on his site, Fried Stinky Tofu.

The Cobra Coupe is $21,995 and the GTM is $19,995—screaming deals, frankly—so while the rest of the American car industry is in tatters it is impossible to imagine Dave having to throw in a 50” Plasma to sell his cars or pushing any kind of “all 2007’s must go!” deal—people are beating a path to his door.

MK3 Roadster

Daytona Coupe

GTM

That FFR customers must assemble their cars has its advantages. Most obviously, it allows them to provide the kits at a lower price, but there are manifold other benefits. It makes the car an instant hobby—many FFR owners are retirees, and the assembly process keeps them as busy as a 2-year long novel; some have even sold their first FFR’s just so they can labor on another. Factory Five doesn’t have a dealer network, but with each owner an expert on his own car, dealers are unnecessary. Finally, the build process lets the owners customize their cars, and really gets them excited about the ownership process.

‘33 Coupe

See’s Candies was founded in 1921 after Canadian Charles See moved to Los Angeles to try the confection business. He used his mother’s recipes as inspiration for his new treats, and started a shop—with a black and white motif that mimicked his mother’s kitchen.

Los Angeleans appreciated the unusually high-quality candy, and See’s had 30 locations by the depression—and a few years later expanded to San Francisco.

With the mid-century advent of shopping malls, See’s was able to expand across the whole of California. From the website: “See’s customers continued to recognize the See’s Candies product for its quality and taste, and continued to visit See’s old-fashioned black and white shops, enjoying a visit to a time past where service was paramount.”

In 1972, See’s was purchased by Warren Buffett’s Berkshire Hathaway for $25 million. It was the first business for which Mr. Buffett paid more than book value. He was happy to do so, because of See’s Candies’ “sustainable competitive advantage.” That is, Buffett was reasonably sure the company would be profitable for the next 20-25 years. Other elementarily appealing brand-names he has fallen in love with are Coca-cola and Gillette razors. If See’s doesn’t seem so familiar, you might not be from California-where See’s Candies are now sold in more than 200 shops!

Was Warren right? Well, 36 years later See’s Candies and chocolates are still incredibly good—and there is a huge variety of them. They make the finest chocolate covered toffee and chocolate bars, delicious fudge and candy sours, and of course, their always-appreciated box of chocolates.

Check out the Amazon reviews for the nuts and chews—each one of the 11 reviews give a full 5/5 stars! Some choice quotes:

“The beauty of this selection is that you don’t have to do that thing where you take a tiny bite first, wondering if you’re going to like it or not. Every one is perfect! No icky raspberry flavored goo or weird hazelnut paste (if you’re into those things don’t buy these), just wonderful variations of chocolate, nuts and caramel. Yumm!”

“Some chocolate gives me headaches, and the next day I feel grumpy. Especially “fancy” chocolates, Godiva, Belgian, etc. Here is the mystery. See’s chocolates don’t. And they taste like heaven. So if chocolates sometimes gives you headaches, try these. You might find you can still eat chocolate, and revel in its delicious flavor with no after effects. Thank you Mrs. Sees!”

Anyway, you get the idea. Oh, and they have Kosher and sugar-free blends too. Take it from Warren Buffett-you really can’t go wrong with See’s.

More information:

See’s Homepage
See’s History
See’s on Amazon.com - May be out of stock, but check out the glowing reviews!

But the real home run comes when the package arrives at your door—the VTB boxes have a countryside motif and an airhole for the bears inside, and has a heartfelt note on the outside about the importance keeping it the right way up (hint: sky-up, countryside down) so the bears don’t get headaches - pure doorstep theatre. Inside there is personalized gift card (the site has suggested notes for each bear) and free gourmet bear chocolate.

The actual teddy bears are great too. They have that old-school “where can you buy something like this nowadays” feel. The joints swivel, and so the bears have firm stuffing—they aren’t insanely cuddly. But kids have been loving bears like these for years—and they’re more realistic than plush toys. They have a real quality feel to them.

Two Bears in Love

“Every once in a while a tragedy will strike - a dog attack, a chance meeting with a lawn mower. When this happens it is very easy to become upset, lose your cool, maybe even freak out! But NEVER FEAR, health care is here, and we are not just talkin’ any old health care, we are talkin’ FREE, full coverage health care for your Bear’s entire lifetime…….He will have premium accommodations including the finest health care staff, exceptional dining facilities and use of the day spa.

Dr. Helen is a trained Teddy Bear MD who will assess the injury, perform the surgery, and help with physical therapy to get him back into his perfectly chubby shape as soon as possible. If by chance your Bear was too badly injured with no hope of recovery, we will replace your Bear with a new one for FREE!”

Lucy Bear with her husband Paul

Everyone I spoke with at Vermont Teddy Bear was wildly friendly and enthusiastic. They are a very nice bunch!

More information:

Home Page
Valentines Day Bears
Testimonials