This Question of the Day took form as your author drove into the hills, away from the city, in a fruitless search for awe-inspiring meteors. What a bust. And something sauntered past in the dark, too, so that wasn’t great for the ol’ nerves.

On the trip up to that spooky secluded roadway overlooking a fog-cloaked valley, yours truly got to thinking about the Toyobaru Twins and their low sales numbers, and the fact that a successor is nearly upon us. Who’ll buy such a vehicle in today’s hostile buying climate for small, sporty coupes? A few possibilities come to mind.

It was a wild weather day in parts of the Midwest yesterday, something that’s to be expected when temps soar and humidity turns your drapes into a damp dishcloth. When violent weather threatens, the first concern is protecting life and limb.

Second on that list? House and home.

Then comes the car.

Today’s Junkyard Find, despite its dilapidated nature, delivered a jolt of adrenaline right when it was needed most. Monday mornings can be a slow-to-rouse affair, but the ’73 Century Gran Sport was a car aimed at reducing the sudden onset of depression afflicting America’s drivers. It still carries that same therapeutic effect.

Yes, the Seventies — a decade talked about heavily in the TTAC chatroom, though not nearly as much as the two that followed. Starting with a bang and ending in a forlorn whimper, the 1970s was a tumultuous time for the U.S. auto industry, with geopolitical events and government regulation kicking off a stigmatizing Era of Malaise that still echoes to this day.

Let’s see if we can find some points of light in all that darkness.

Kids, as we all know, exist for but one purpose: to replace us. You’re out there on the deck, grilling steaks, and over there sits Junior. Waiting.

It’s ominous.

But kids need to get around, especially to places of employment so that they can pull their own weight. So sometimes a purchase is in order, or at least the gifting of a well-used vehicle you’d planned to sell or trade in. Ever done it?

Achingly simple question today, folks. With the demise of the Ford Fusion last week, the Blue Oval now fields zero domestic four-door sedans, leaving buyers to choose instead among a bevy of trucks and utility vehicles.

It’s the first time since 1908 that the automaker hasn’t built a U.S. passenger car with four doors (earlier pre-Model T models sported rear doors, but omitted the front). So, with plenty of history to choose from, which domestic Ford sedan gets your pick as best of the bunch?

A bout of insomnia last night left you author with plenty of free time to mull things over, staring at the blank ceiling above. For whatever reason, the unplanned sleeplessness saw this addled mind focus on the year 2011.

Did anything exciting occur that year? Nothing on this end, if memory serves, but it did seem to mark the end of a uniquely American tradition.

A strange phenomenon (one of many) cropped up in recent years among the more ardent of very-online quasi-activists, one where people seem to think that jumping to the most hyperbolic potential outcome of their “enemy’s” actions somehow lends weight to their argument — to their opposition to something, anything.

It also manifests as a person attributing the maximum amount of malice to the actions of a person or entity they dislike, as if they hold a special key to the innermost thoughts of their most despised foes.

Which brings us to large pickup trucks and the nation’s children.

“Awful” can mean a lot of things, some of them pretty benign. A car can simply a boring appliance, and to some, this makes said car awful. Others might disagree.

Other vehicles might boast many positive attributes, only to have reliability issues render them awful in the minds of many. Yet an awful car can still be a thing of beauty, in the purely physical sense. Name one.

In the cinematic classic National Lampoon’s Loaded Weapon 1, screen legend Kathy Ireland’s character is asked, under intense police questioning, whether she knows the traitorous General Mortars.

“Well, I drive a Buick,” she responds.

See? This proves the name General Motors confuses people. All the more reason to throw out that dusty moniker and write a new script.

Listen, we don’t want to hear about that summer after high school… unless it involved a road trip requiring precise and detailed navigation!

That’s right, today we’re talking about finding one’s way through life in the most literal sense. Charting a course. These days, reaching your destination usually involves a pre-programmed route, satellite linkup, and a detached female voice ordering your every move, barking commands at every turn.

Do any of you still hang on to the old ways?

It’s a film I reference often, but in this case it fits. The absolutely fantastic movie Twelve O’Clock High concerns itself with a U.S. Army Air Forces bomber group stationed in the south of England during WW2.

Tasked with “precision” daylight bombing over occupied Europe relatively early in the conflict, the group goes about its missions without fighter escorts, leaving themselves wide open to every Messerschmitt and flack gun along the route. It’s a deadly business, but orders are orders. Every day, B-17s take off into a clear blue sky, many never to return.

So many, in fact, that the base earns a stigma of being home to a “hard luck group.”

The equipment is fine, as are the men behind the controls, but luck isn’t on their side. And just as circumstances can sink the fortunes of an otherwise competent outfit like the 918th Bomb Group, so too can hard luck fall on a car.

Yesterday’s attempt by Mitsubishi to generate excitement and anticipation among brand loyalists (are there any?) got your author thinking.

Thinking, as a movie character once said, is a thing a man should never do, but it happened just the same. These thoughts revolved around brands, loyalty, passion… and hate.

Surfing around the Twitter machine the other day, I saw a reference to the late, not-so-great Pontiac Aztek. It occurred to me that despite working in the service trenches at a Pontiac store for a summer, and despite once working alongside someone who owned an Aztek, I’m not sure I’ve ever driven one.

Which got me thinking – what normal, attainable car have I not driven? The same question applies to high-end (but not unobtanium) metal.

A word is a powerful tool. It can instill deep feelings, trigger emotions, and just generally play with someone’s head. And when a singular word happens to be the name of a company, its creators had best choose wisely.

Wednesday’s joint announcement from Fiat Chrysler and PSA Group got plenty of people talking about words — well, one particular word. Let’s play a game.

A certain inhabitant of the Renaissance Center finds themself the odd man out. A member of the prestigious (but often tumultuous) Detroit Three club, this storied car builder now has the misfortune of having two rivals with something very similar to sell — something our protagonist, whom we’ll call The General, can’t seem to rustle up.

You all know what we’re talking about: A dedicated, right-sized, off-road SUV.

With two out of three members now fielding such a product, it is necessary for The General to join the fray and attempt to compete, or, in this time of cost constraints and uncertainty, is it better to stay put and carry on, rather than field a latecomer?

It’s time to render a verdict, fair jurors.

You’ve now seen the Ford Bronco from every angle, in every guise, and probably spend part of your evening figuring out just what you could afford (sorry, Canadians — the entry-level Base tops $40k in your overpriced country; it’s $28,500 before destination in the U.S.). Ford clearly put a lot of effort into its swing.

Was it a miss, or did the Blue Oval knock it out of the park?

Not since Toyota’s American brass debuted the new Venza from their own driveways at the height of the coronavirus lockdown has a new vehicle galvanized the public’s attention like this.

Discourse? There isn’t any, other than about this singular product. At this very moment your kids are probably watching other kids talk about it on their TikTok machines, or whatever it is they play with when they’re not tattooing images of Elon Musk on their necks and going vegan to fight hate. I’m no parent, and it shows.

If you’ve just arrived from a secluded cave in which you were held captive by a family of bears, free of any and all media except for nightly live-action stage plays (about bears), we should inform you that the Ford Bronco will, at long last, reveal itself tonight. Everyone, including your relieved family members, are aware of this. Ford worked overtime to generate as much buzz as possible, earning this date in history the moniker “ B-Day” at the very online TTAC World Headquarters. Of course, it’s entirely possible you couldn’t care less about another SUV appearing in an already crowded segment, but don’t worry — you’ll still be able to participate in today’s QOTD.

By now you’ve heard, been told, or simply noticed that the Dodge lineup for 2021 contains but three models: the Charger, Challenger, and Durango. A trifecta of AARP members, now endowed with as much horsepower as Fiat Chrysler could rustle up from its deep parts bin.

Gone for ’21, but hardly forgotten, is the Grand Caravan, a pioneer of the minivan segment and a stalwart Dodge model seemingly immune to inflation. We knew its demise was coming. Same goes for the other model axed for 2021 — the Dodge Journey — though the discontinuation of this vehicle isn’t nearly as likely to elicit tearful, glowing eulogies at the wake.

Perhaps you’d like to say a few words?

The Twitterverse — which is a horrible place, by the way — finds itself rocked this week, torn asunder and factionalized by the mass signing of a remarkably anodyne letter supporting free speech and open discussion. Twenty-six-year-old NYC bloggers are up in arms; here at Casa Steph, the popcorn bucket’s working overtime.

But while these warriors clash in the online streets over the core tenet of liberal democracy, a great number of opinions, beliefs, and offbeat thoughts remain behind lock and key in our own minds. The subjects these thoughts cover are vast in scope, and one of them is surely cars. Yes, cars. And trucks, and those who build them.

Let’s exercise a little free speech today.

We all know someone who’s had a kid. Yup, procreation still happens in today’s enlightened society, and with that babymaking comes a rapid accumulation of stuff. It’s a scourge, and this disgruntled, childless writer has long railed against the steady onward march of this phenomenon.

Y’all are spoiling your children. They’ve got too much stuff.

More often than not — almost inevitably, really — this new addition to the household precipitates another change in either the driveway or garage.

As you read in the previous post, Lincoln has finally admitted what everyone by now knew — that the Continental’s days are numbered. The marque plans to shelve the model after pulling the plug on production at the end of the year.

Big sedans have all the appeal of an uncontrolled cough in a crowded elevator right now, so there’s dim hope that the Continental name will ever grace a stately, rear-drive sedan or coupe in anyone’s near future. At least we have our memories, though… not all of which are good ones.

Like the server who came to your table that one time, Ford’s 2021 F-150 boasts many appealing attributes — so many, in fact, it may have you thinking about ditching your current ride for a new one.

Evolutionary on the outside and innovative within, the next-gen pickup offers owners ample space for both sleeping and work. It’s the latter feature we’re discussing today, as it seems Ford had a simple solution to its table problem all along.

The hazy year of 1981 brought the world many things, among them, yours truly. It was also a year that sent bullets flying through the air towards several world figures; a year that saw interest rates soar to new heights (while horsepower values fell to dismal lows), and brought what was arguably the last year of true classic rock.

In the background, New Wave ominously gathered strength.

Also gathering strength? The Ford F-Series’s popularity, as the model line donned the hat of best-selling vehicle in the U.S. that year. The F-Series traces its lineage to the Truman administration, and we now have a new generation to ooh and aah over.

You were probably thrilled to get a glimpse of the next-generation Kia Sedona yesterday, perhaps even dissolving into uncontrollable babbling, tears rolling unchecked down your crimson cheeks. Pull yourself together! It’s still a minivan. Kia just decided to play dress-up, disguising the new people mover as everyone’s favorite vehicle type: the easy-driving, socially acceptable crossover.

We’ve reached a point in history when the utility and versatility of a minivan — a once huge segment of the American auto landscape — needs to be dressed up as a SUV in order to (hopefully) sell. Are the segment’s attributes not enough? Clearly not. Stigma of such vehicles and declining sales forced Kia’s hand, prompting a re-do. But it begs the question — could it force a change in your thinking?

No, I won’t rest until Subaru returns with a true successor to the brash and youthful Brat. I’ve harped on this desire in the past when we asked what vehicle the well fleshed-out Subaru lineup lacked, and I’ll do so again today.

With Hyundai’s Santa Cruz entering production in Alabama next year and Ford working on a unibody challenger, the timing will never be more right.

Is Mitsubishi about to try on Fiat’s shoes? After the Japanese automaker’s CEO presented a new business plan that aligns with the goals of its alliance bunk mates late last week, it’s starting to look that way.

The Mirage maker, suddenly eager to save cash and firm up its foundation, plans to pull back in the North American market, preferring instead to focus on Southeast Asia and other overseas environs. It’s not that the brand wasn’t growing its sales in the U.S. and Canada; it was. Its dealer network was steadily adding stores, too, and 2019 was the brand’s best sales year since 2007.

What we ask you today is: should “pulling back” turn into pulling out?

Don’t you love it when an automaker comes out with a survey? Served up with a huge grain of salt, such surveys are only published when they reinforce a conclusion the OEM already wishes to make, and always in the service of marketing.

There’s a Ford F-150 coming on June 25th, and it seems the Blue Oval now wants to talk to you about sex and booze.

Nothing like a nice evening drive on a warm summer’s night, streetlights whipping by as the western horizon glows with hues of peach and lavender. Yessir, there’s nothing like some leisurely motoring. And what’s that up ahead?

Oh, an FJ Cruiser, Toyota’s answer to the retro craze sweeping the industry back in the early to middle 2000s. Big ol’ thing, it was — and thirsty, too. Kept its resale value, though, but certainly not its initial sales prowess. That thing’s popularity dwindled faster than inhibitions at a kegger.

Will a time ever come when automakers again dive into retro with such ferocity, I wondered?

Something appeared on social media yesterday that inspired a healthy bit of conversation among the denizens of the TTAC chatroom/lounge.

On the subject of cars that are not actually “cool,” one participant in the chat — we’ll call him “Adam T” (wait, that’s too obvious; maybe “A. Tonge” is better) — posited that a certain rear-drive sports sedan does not deserve the label of “cool.”

Perhaps you agree.

“Huh, I wouldn’t have figured you for a [insert make and model here] driver.”

“You don’t seem like the type to drive a…”

You get the idea. The personality we project in polite social and work settings might not be the primal being that emerges when no one’s around. There’s a bit of Jekyll and Hyde in all of us, and it sometimes manifests itself in what we drive. All too often, of course, the mundane reality of personal finances keep even these urges under wraps.

But not always.

A very minor occurrence nudged my brain in this direction. One the way home from nowhere last night, a cop lit himself up like a Christmas tree in order to blow a light, his 3.7-liter V6 screaming as it strained to move the Police Interceptor Utility’s bulk with something approaching alacrity.

Which got me to thinking about the previous-generation Explorer and its platform mate, the defunct Lincoln MKT — both of which offered a 2.0-liter four-cylinder for a time. And from that, a question formed. What specific vehicles would you call under-engined?

The other day, we posed the question of whether you’ve ever regretted lending your vehicle to another individual. Not hard to see how something could go wrong in a hurry in that situation; God knows we’re a flawed species. Hopefully the memories weren’t too painful.

Perhaps less soul-destroying is what we’ve come here today to ask. While this has everything to do with the loaning of personal property to another, the situation is reversed. And the “friend” element is, for the most part, gone.

We’ve all dropped our ride off at the dealer or the local mechanic for necessary surgery (or BS servicing required to keep the warranty intact), and not all of us had a friend, spouse, or bus waiting to take us back home or to work that morning. Instead, we were handed the key to a wholly unfamiliar car.

Thinking back, I can only recall a single instance in which someone who wasn’t a mechanic or dealer service tech borrowed my car. Seems unlikely, but that vehicle sitting outside isn’t a hammer or a cup of sugar. I’d protect it with my life. Which is why it’s only been out of my sight, under the command of another person, one one occasion.

My dad wanted to pick up a pizza, and his car was a boring automatic. Hand ’em over, sonny.

Other people are far more generous with their personal property, tossing their keys to anyone halfway trustworthy on the promise that they’ll return it in one piece. Which, of course, doesn’t always happen.

You’ve had it. You see no point in going on doing what you’re doing anymore, no bright side to sticking it out and hoping for sunnier skies. You need a change, and the great woods and hills beckon, free of people, social media, politicians, and large, soulless companies that treat you like a less-than-human cog in an inefficient machine.

You’ve come into some money, let’s say, and have a book you’ve never gotten around to writing (or reading). A change of pace would do you good, assuming you can stand the solitary life and aren’t afraid of either the dark or getting your hands dirty.

However, before putting this plan into action, you’ll first need a vehicle.

You’ll have to both forgive us and brace yourself at the same time, as this could get controversial. We’re about to delve into a serious problem that goes back quite a while. One that has its roots in many factors — some of them organic, others the result of those in power making bad decisions.

It’s something many of you probably ignored, pushed to the back of your mind as your attention turned instead to the mundane day-to-day goings-ons of your own life, not wanting to concern yourself with something you don’t believe involves you, and yet it’s something we can’t ignore anymore.

We’d caution both sides of this debate not to lash out at each other, and instead, listen, learn and understand.

Ready? Okay, here goes…

As so-called auto writers, a good number of us spend a great deal of time configuring dream rides online and very little time walking into dealerships and actually buying anything. Someone has to support the used market, I guess.

Today we’re going to focus on a vehicle once used almost solely for hard work but now used just as much, if not overwhelmingly so, for domestic drudgery and commuting. It’s also the most popular vehicle in the country, and one that offers the option of more power for little extra price.

One night over the Memorial Day weekend, boredom forced me in search of something mindless and light. Netflix beckoned, and there, unfortunately, I came across a foreign tale of two friends rekindling the old days — and a nearly forgotten lust for life — via a road trip in an old French car. It starred Jean Reno of Ronin fame, so, what the hell.

Sadly, anyone’s mechanic’s brother can sell a script to Netflix these days, and the resulting flick was awash in clichés, overused tropes, and painfully obvious sociopolitical commentary. Still, it did prompt a moment’s reflection.

When was the last time you felt truly alive behind the wheel?

In each and every one of us lurks a number of hidden longings. Yours truly, as a child and even later, used to yearn to one day work at the National Hurricane Center in Coral Gables, Florida.

That clearly didn’t pan out. They probably demand a degree in science-y things, the jerks. Oh well.

Other yearnings aren’t quite so specific, and I think one thing we all share as a diverse population of individuals is the desire for more choice. To express ourselves in one of the dwindling ways that’s still socially acceptable. I’m talking, of course, about color. Paint color.

In various places on the automobile Internets, one will often see the same misconceptions and myths repeated over and over, presented as strong opinion or perhaps even disguised as fact. There are an awful lot of car fans who are dead wrong about a lot of things on the Internet. Let’s talk about it.

I can’t quite remember what it was that jogged my brain the other night, but whatever it was, it conjured up a wholesome yet frustrating memory. A memory of a person and a car from my childhood.

The person was my oldest friend’s mother — one of the kindest women I’ve ever known, matched easily by the daughter she clearly raised right. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. As for the car, it was a blue, mid-’80s Toyota Tercel 5-door. For me, that car is just a memory, and a somewhat annoying one at that, but for the owner — my friend’s mother — it was the first of many.

Toyota. They’re like the mob; easy to get in, awfully hard to leave. And that’s the way it was with my friend’s mother, who never again owned a car from any other brand.

Some new vehicles remain mired in the muck of mediocrity, never to emerge in an improved form before their inevitable replacement. Others are able to reinvent themselves and become better vehicles than they were previously. They rise like a phoenix, changing from caterpillar to butterfly (or some other trite verbiage).

Today we talk about those vehicle models which raised the bar over their predecessor.

It may have escaped your notice, but things aren’t quite the same lately. I look at my hands more, wondering if the side of my right index finger escaped a good scrubbing 6 minutes earlier. The sight of a box of cookies bought two weeks ago prompts mental calculations about viral half-lives on semi-porous surface areas. For someone who’s already a germaphobe, the past three months has offered all the merriment and relaxation of a POW on bridge-building duty.

And to think I visited the dentist for a filling in January. Where had those hands been?

One calming pastime unrelated to work or worry (and maybe serving as an an antidote to both), involves the silver screen. I watch films. Old films. Bad ones, good ones… terrible ones. All in an environment free of mucus and saliva droplets ejected at terrifying speed from the filthy mouths of strangers.

Connectivity is one of those special buzzwords used across most industries, whether it be for a virtual meeting app, a washing machine, or a car. All companies seem to think we need more of it. Today we want to know — are you a fan of cars that come equipped with over-the-air update connectivity?

We’ve talked about being upside down on auto loans on these digital pages before, but we’ve never really talked about being… upside down. Literally.

Sometimes all the traction in the world does nothing to keep a car’s undercarriage pointed towards terra firma. Sunroofs can become glass floors in a hurry, especially if soft earth or an impacting vehicle unexpectedly enters the scene. In the case of Jeep’s latest Wrangler Unlimited, the unexpected trip 90-degrees from vertical took place in the worst place possible: in front of cameras, in the crash test facility of the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety.

Suffice it to say the institute frowned upon the Wrangler’s unrecoverable roll to starboard.

It’s a situation a good many of us have found ourselves in — and one we’d all like to avoid going forward, if at all possible. Alas, fate isn’t known for its even-handed distribution of fairness.

Sometimes we’re forced to make a painful choice concerning something we love, with neither outcome a good one. In the case of aging vehicles, that choice is one repair bill away.

Today’s QOTD is about past vehicles that just weren’t quite right. Perhaps a manufacturer intended to make the sort of vehicle you might actually want in your driveway. And they got the styling just right, but the materials and build quality were terrible? Maybe the mechanics and trim were just right, but the end vehicle was so hideous you had to look away in horror? Let’s talk about the multiple times OEMs ended up with a proverbial fly in the product ointment.

The pursuit of safety can lead an individual down many paths. To a self-defense course. To a gun store. To a withdrawn, frightened existence well removed from the warm confines of relationships and social gatherings. And even to a car dealership.

Yes, owning and driving a car puts you more at risk of dying in a crash than riding the train or bus to work every morning, but in these strange times, a car can be more than just a convenient way to get to work on time (or not). It can be a sanctuary.

Last night’s online conversation about bad General Motors vehicles wasn’t the first of its kind, and it’ll surely not be the last. More important than restful sleep, wee-hours back-and-forths about rattly but somehow indestructible GM J-bodies are an important part of staying sane as lockdown measures remain in place on both sides of the Detroit River.

Naturally, thoughts of Cavalier soon turned to CALAIS, and from there to an aspect of that particular era that’s always bothered yours truly: rooflines.

Things change. Once upon a time, the greatest concern among Americans was getting home in time to watch that Three’s Company episode where Jack wakes up in bed with Mr. Roper. Now, it’s antibody testing and virus-rocked retirement funds.

Things change in the automotive world, too, and along with it, our perceptions. Preconceptions often become misconceptions as new technology and a focus on quality control (or lack thereof) changes minds en masse via personal experience and word of mouth. Brands and entire countries once known for building the best become the stuff of jokes, and vice versa.

How has your thinking evolved?

We continue our conversation on automotive design from the recently ended 2010s this week. Prior installments in this series have covered the best and worst affordable SUVs and CUVs, and last week, the best of the not so affordable.

In today’s entry, we’ll discuss the worst upscale 2010s designs to ever grace the driveways of North America.

The ongoing fight against an increasingly terrifying virus that can ruin your life in a dozen different ways has led to a conundrum. People are advised to stay at least six feet away from each other, but the spaces we’ve built for people often requires them to move in much closer formation.

Public transit, airliners, nightclubs, even sidewalks are designed for crowds, for people rubbing elbows, for packing in as much humanity as regulations will allow. What happens when every last one of those people suddenly requires an order of magnitude more space?

To make amends for the horrific, disturbing imagery no doubt stirred by the lede of my previous QOTD, I’ll state right now that nothing unsavory or perverse was keeping me up these past few nights.

Yet something was.

Bouts of insomnia aren’t uncommon, certainly not in these trying times, so I know I’m not alone in counting Oldsmobiles in a vain attempt to reach the gates of Slumberville these past couple of weeks. And of the many concerns rattling around my brain like a Mossad assassin’s bullet, I can at least say none of them were specifically automotive in nature. Which can’t be said for everyone…

We continue our discussion of SUV and CUV design from the 2010s today with our third question entry of the series. The first and second editions covered the best and worst parts of affordable SUV/CUV design, with a strict price ceiling of $48,000.

Today we head upscale and only consider really expensive rides.

The tedium of self-isolation reached depraved new depths this past weekend, as your author, finding himself all alone with nothing to do, took advantage of the government-imposed privacy to indulge in a shameful solo act. An occurrence that was sadly all too common in his teenage years.

That’s right — with the lights turned low and blinds drawn, yours truly engaged in something he’s not too proud of, and wouldn’t normally divulge to any other living soul. He watched a truly terrible movie… and didn’t turn it off.

No, not “so bad it was good,” nothing like that. This thing was a complete stinker — a colossal turdfest that only kept this writer’s interest because, among other things, it happened to be a commercial for General Motors.

Emotional response. That’s the end goal of marketing — well, the second-to-end goal, and words and images are what a savvy marketing pro uses to plant that seed in the human brain. Rapidly germinating, the seed quickly grows into a desire to consume. To own. To bolster one’s identity with a product that says something about them, and which makes them feel good in a strange, hard-to-define way.

We’ve all been lured in by slick advertising, product placements, and the like, but products don’t always need a third-party ad agency to boost their image. The manufacturer gets first crack at that.

Which is where naming come in.

Last Wednesday we pondered the best exterior styling found on SUVs and CUVs of the 2010s. This week, flip the question and consider the visually challenged rides of the past decade instead.

If I recall those distant 2010s correctly, there are plenty of designs upon which one might spill some Haterade.

Each one of us, minus the psychopaths, lives by a personal code, and that set of deeply held beliefs and attitudes dictates how we treat others. How we interact in society. It makes us whole.

Given that there’s a hell of a lot of variation in what drives a person, there’s been no shortage of diverging takes on the latest Cannonball Run “trophy” holder — the crew of a white, 2019 Audi A8 that rocketed from New York City to Los Angeles in 26 hours and 38 minutes earlier this month, using lightly trafficked highways borne of the coronavirus pandemic to their advantage. Average speed? Roughly 105 mph.

Is this feat worthy of a slap on the back, or a punch in the face?

If you’re as paranoid as this writer, chances are your formerly daily driver has long since sailed past its last regularly scheduled fill-up date. The last time any fresh gasoline hit the innards of your author’s high-end motorcar was three and a half weeks ago. The needle’s now resting just north of a quarter tank.

*Gulp*

Frankly, it’s cause for concern, as adding useless miles to the odometer has typically served as a mental tonic for yours truly. At the same time, who wants to encounter people or things they’ve touched? That friendly neighborhood gas pump is no longer the welcoming monument it once was (with Doritos, no less). Wouldn’t it be great to drive past it without a care?

It seems readers gravitated to Chris’ recent review of the Silverado 1500 Duramax. Indeed, I was curious to see just how well General Motors’ new 3.0-liter inline-six diesel handled day to day life and, more importantly, how well it performed at the pumps.

Looks like the pickup’s fuel economy was worthy of note. With each full-size member of the Detroit Three now fielding an oil burner, light-duty diesel fuel economy has become another arena in which to do battle. Of course, the industry has always used fuel economy as a yardstick (despite it not being much of a selling point at various times in history), and as always, the buyer’s mileage will vary, regardless of what EPA figures appear in the window sticker.

Have you ever been pleasantly surprised?