No it doesn't. I too am in love with the internal combustion engine. My truck has a five-speed, and I always run at higher rpms than most people do. I love hearing an engine accelerate, the smooth climb in frequency and the increase in speed as the best part of the torque curve arrives, until it is topped out and a quick shift to do it all over again.

Thanks for bringing the life in life to life.

Telling the bus driver to 'floor it' doesn't have the same cachet either...

It will be a sad day. There's nothing like accelerating a modern sportbike off of a turn at full lean, feeling the rear tire squirm as it searches for traction while engine revs move into the sweet spot where it "comes on the cam" and power builds oh-so rapidly. It works all the senses: Sight, hearing and balance. And provides a nice shot of adrenalin too.

It is wonderful.

And we'll have fun fun fun 'til Big Brother takes the T-bird away...

A fine horse in full gallop. That is poetry.

You guys like the road and turbo engines for, heaven knows, your own good reasons.

But I like it because it leads me to things I love. And just as long as there's gas and tires and enough oil to prevent the engine from blowing up, well it's all the same to me and my little SUV. (And would you please tell Gwyneth and Cameron that, yes, I do like to sit up high!)

Today, for instance, I shall complete the last leg of my now familiar cross-country "circulation." There is a highway that leads through the only place in the US where the Continental Divide splits into a great basin. There, tens of thousands of meadow larks live and sing their heavenly songs. I shall pull my little SUV over and be baptized once again in the sweetest of waters before going on to the end of the trip. Where the best of friends--God fearing, flag-waving conservatives--await me with a bonfire and barbecue! Thank heavens for the internal combustions machine.

And God bless America.

My life, my SUV.

Webutante

This was all predicted by Rush (the other Rush) some 25 years ago:

Red Barchetta

My uncle has a country place, that no one knows about
He says it used to be a farm, before the motor law
And on sundays I elude the eyes and hop the turbine freight
To far outside the wire, where my white-haired uncle waits.

Jump to the ground
As the turbo slows to cross the borderline
Run like the wind,
As excitement shivers up and down my spine
Down in his barn
My uncle preserved for me, an old machine ---
For fifty-odd years
To keep it as new has been his dearest dream

I strip away the old debris, that hides a shining car
A brilliant red barchetta, from a better, vanished time
I fire up the willing engine, responding with a roar
Tires spitting gravel, I commit my weekly crime...

Wind in my hair ---
Shifting and drifting ---
Mechanical music ---
Adrenalin surge ---

Well-weathered leather
Hot metal and oil
The scented country air
Sunlight on chrome
The blur of the landscape
Every nerve aware

Suddenly, ahead of me, across the mountainside
A gleaming alloy air-car shoots towards me, two lanes wide
I spin around with shrieking tires, to run the deadly race
Go screaming through the valley as another joins the chase

Drive like the wind
Straining the limits of machine and man
Laughing out loud
With fear and hope, Ive got a desperate plan

At the one-lane bridge
I leave the giants stranded
At the riverside
Race back to the farm
To dream with my uncle
At the fireside...

And where would we be without the distance.

I just got back from a ride through seven states on my BMW K1100. Seven days of pure joy. I circled Colorado from Texas counter clockwise. Seemed like a good idea. Many of the sentiments expressed in your piece were running through my mind too as I gorged on asphalt. Bon voyage!

Thanks for the cred, G.

In the process of planning a Denver to Seattle road trip with my Dad. Probably rent something new and beefy like a new Camaro or Mustang. It will be a V8, whatever it is. Oh, the drive...

What a beautifully assembled post. Very evocative. And I agree - it will be a sad, sad day when internal combustion fades away. I'll drive an electric go-kart when they force me and not before.

I remember the feeling and loved this piece. Also liked John Hinds' phrase "gorged on asphalt!"

I spied my future husband's 1983(4?) Ford Mustang GT, 5.0 liter, black with t-top from an upstairs window before I met him. My first reaction was, "what macho asshole owns that thing?" That's when I was a fully brainwashed lefty riding my bike (not the motorized kind) back and forth to work. Now, 25 years later, he's still my macho asshole and my political conversion may have started when he let me drive that car! It was fun, fun, fun...

I've been on that road south of Nelson, and it's just one of many in the western provinces and states. We who live here and drive bikes or nice cars are the luckiest dogs ever.

"'Give it the photons' just doesn't have the same cachet."

Unless it's a vehicle powered by turning matter into photons. :-)

Nice repost.

I wonder why you posted, and I didn't notice the first time, a photo of the Bow Valley Parkway near Banff, Alberta with Castle Mountain in the background.

A nice road but a long way from Nelson.

Good catch. I was just including, for the first time, a generic shot that got the sense of the moment. I didn't know where it came from and was too busy driving to get a shøt myself as it happened.

299 from Redding to the ocean, straight through the Trinity Alps in a '79 528i with a 3.5 liter and a rebuilt 4-speed, short Konis and Bilsteins and 20 mm sway bars front and back. Second and third gear through the ups and downs, driving it with your right foot. And there is a stretch in the middle through a high valley where you can see, coming over the hill, the whole damn road for a few miles, with no access and on a Sunday morning early no traffic.

130 miles an hour through the redwoods with every window and the sunroof open. Twenty years ago and it feels like yesterday.

God bless America.

Can the girls play, too?

Apparently, yes. Sorry for the hat-trick. This is the only website that happens in!

Miss Joan,

Ever now and again I'll meet a woman who can drive like that, and I always fall in love a little. Never could understand why more girls never got the urge when they're so obviously made for it.

When I feel sorry for myself to think I wasn't graced or raised with more feminine airs, I just go for a drive down some two-lane black top in the backwaters of the Lowcountry. It all comes around right.

All good, but for the record, your Mercedes does not have a turbo.

A 3.0-litre inline-five cylinder turbo diesel was offered from 1981–1985 in North America.

Even better if you skinned your knuckles building the car (or bike) yourself. Haven't done it in a while but the memories are strong. You built the engine yourself, you put it in the car yourself. You go through the checklist, oil, water, firing order. All the other stuff. Turn it over with the ignition off. Oil pressure OK. Fire it up. Check for leaks. Let's go for a ride.

Re: DeAnn at 7:07

Clearly, the girls can play.

1965 from SW Minnesota to Sioux Falls on I90 to hit the under 21 beer joints. Cross the border into SD and run the petal to the firewall on a 59 Mercury Turnpikecruiser. Windows down...not a car in sight. The jackrabbits were envious.

Reprint something by Mark Lowder and you'd have a perfect trifecta this week.

Much love to you, my darlin' Gerard, hope life's treating you well.

Hey, Andy!!! Big hugs and kisses sent your way.