Aston Martin DBX

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Photo credit: Aston Martin Lagonda

Porsche was way ahead of the curve nearly two decades earlier when it introduced the Cayenne sports utility vehicle (SUV) to the market. Reactions to the famous maker of sports cars producing an SUV was decidedly mixed; people were incredulous that Porsche would forsake decades of tradition to chase after the mighty consumers dollars. Like Burger King introducing french fries to compete with McDonalds, it was a necessary move to ensure Porsche’s long-term survival, as the market size for SUVs is immensely larger than weekend driving toys.

The profits from the Cayenne also act as a monetary float for Porsche to keep making the 911 ever better with each generation. Indeed, P-car enthusiasts quickly forgot about whatever stain on the legacy it is to have an SUV in the Porsche lineup, so long as the 911 remains at the pinnacle of sports cars. Today, the Cayenne and the smaller Macan continues to print money for the German automaker, and we get to enjoy our GT3s. It’s a win win.

So it’s a slight surprise it has taken this long for other premium sports car manufacturers to copy Porsche’s formula. The Cayenne debuted way back in 2002, and it’s only at the end of this decade that we are seeing SUVs from the likes of Lamborghini and Bentley - the Ferrari SUV won’t be a reality for another few years. The proliferation of SUVs have really accelerated since the start of the 2010s, so much so that steadfast traditionalist brands that are synonymous with fast supercars can no longer ignore the market opportunity.

Even Lotus will be making one. Hard to imagine such a thing just five years ago.

Last evening, Aston Martin world-premiered its very first SUV effort, dubbed the DBX. The iconic British marque, known for its fast GT coupes and association with James Bond, is ready to reap the fat profits that Porsche have been collecting for the longest time. A lot is hinging on the DBX, as the stock prices of Aston Martin have not done particularly well since its IPO, and last quarter it lost 13.5 million pounds. The company is hoping the massive SUV market will turn its fortunes back into the positive.

If looks alone makes a car worthy of consideration, then the DBX will sell tremendously well. It’s the first of these “super SUVs” that I would actually call beautiful, though you wouldn’t expect anything less from Aston Martin. The DBX shames the Bentley Bentayga into common obscurity, and reveals the Lamborghini Urus as the incoherent, offensive mess it truly is. The DBX exudes a flowing elegance that doesn’t offend, yet retains the sense of specialness that spending upwards of $200,000 should get you in return.

Of course, speed and athleticism worthy of the Aston wings ought to be a given in DBX, but I think those attributes don’t matter to the target audience. Brand equity and interior space is what counts; how the DBX takes to a corner is secondary, perhaps tertiary. Because if buyers are looking for something that handles well, they wouldn’t be looking at an SUV.

It’s all about the badge: the forthcoming Ferrari SUV can steer like a pontoon boat and customers will still buy. That’s the game, and premium sports car makers are busily scrambling to follow what Porsche started.

The lone problem with the GR Supra

I’ve already written previously on how the new Toyota GR Supra is an important entrant to the sports car segment due to how rarely we see brand new, relatively affordable sports cars in an overall market heavily biased towards sport utility vehicles. It’s an achievement worth celebrating, even if Toyota had to partner up with BMW to turn the dream into fruition.

By all accounts the new Supra is a brilliant car to drive, and us car enthusiasts should buy one in support of their efforts. Only by showing up with our wallets at the dealerships will manufacturers continue to put in development money on such delightful cars, a segment so small it might as well be a niche (unless you’re Porsche).  

But there’s a problem: I don’t think this iteration of the GR Supra is the one to buy.

As is the wont of Japan-made sports cars, each subsequent model year will have increment improvements, leading up to significant mid-model refreshes after a few years. Just look at the R35 generation Nissan GT-R: the 2012 model year got such an update it rendered the 2008 to 2011 cars to second-class citizenry. I’ve no doubts the GR Supra will follow the same production trajectory, therefore if I were buying one, I’d wait for the forthcoming refresh or special edition models.

There’s already points of improvement easily apparent in the new Supra. First there’s the power level: The same B58 inline-six has a higher level of tune in the BMW Z4 sister car, so it’d be no effort at all for Toyota to bump horsepower to that level, if not further. Second is the gearbox: the GR Supra simply begs for a manual transmission, and Toyota have heard all the clamoring for it. The BMW parts-bin do have a manual gearbox available – the unit currently providing service in the M2 and M3 – and I’d put money that a do-it-yourself stick version of the Supra will happen.

Those two key components, coupled with various upgrades to the suspension and body panels, and avoiding first model-year gremlins, makes it worth the patience to wait for the refresh.  

Of course, if you’re so infused with cash you can buy the 2020 GR Supra now and trade that in when invariably a hotter version comes out in a few years. Good for you indeed if you are able to do that.

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Bright lights in the morning.

The new Supra is worth celebrating

The arrival of the fifth-generation Toyota Supra is imminent, and we should all rejoice when there are new/returning entries into the sports car market. The modern automotive business is fantastically hostile to pure sports cars – unless you are Porsche, so any new product is worth celebrating.

Sadly, the Internet is wont to complain about things, and since the embargo on driving impressions by journalists were lifted this previous Sunday, the discussion online isn’t on how superbly well the new Supra drives, but rather that it’s made nearly entirely of BMW parts. Indeed, there are (crazy) enthusiasts out there who would not entertain purchasing the GR Supra simply because it shares platform and components with the equally new BMW Z4 convertible. 

Never mind the consensus opinion by those who’s driven it is that the new Supra is a brilliant machine; Toyota’s mandate of competing with a Porsche Cayman on dynamics is utterly achieved.  

Nope, people are whining about how the car is largely a BMW product, with only a few Toyota fixings sprinkled on top. As halo vehicle to follow the legendary fourth-generation Supra, the lack of “pure Toyota” in the GR Supra is seen as sacrilege. Again, mistakenly ignoring how great the new car drives, and that BMW isn’t exactly known for making terrible sports cars throughout its history.

Hilarious the hills some petrol-heads choose to die on. Toyota’s already got a product for the people hankering for a 100% Toyota-produced successor to the Supra: it’s called the Lexus LC500. Adjusting for inflation, it costs nearly the same as the MK4 Supra did, and in terms of handling philosophy, it’s more in tune with the old coupe’s grand touring-leaning appeal anyways. The LC500’s atmospheric V8 is quite the party piece, too. Why aren’t the people complaining about the GR Supra’s BMW underpinnings buying the Lexus instead?

Because it costs too much; they want their cake and eat it as well, but a brand new Supra engineered from the ground up by Toyota would have been far more expensive than the mid-50K price of the GR Supra, and taken even longer to materialize. There’s simply no business case for Toyota to be in the upper 70K to low 80K price segment, not least of which they know from history: the previous Supra (again, adjusting for inflation) did not sell well at all.

Have I mentioned the new Supra – according to reviews – drives really great? It seems Toyota have made a worthy sports car for 2019, and that’s all that should matter. For those looking for a bit more Japanese soul, well, there’s always the LC500, or better yet, the LFA.

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Be like seals: chill and have no worries in the world.

BMW M cars will have adjustable brakes?

During my daily perusing of automotive news today (not during work, obviously), I ran into this article from Jalopnik, stating the upcoming BMW M8 and M8 Competition will feature adjustable braking. By toggling a setting within the infotainment screen, the driver is able to select the amount of braking effort required between two settings: Comfort and Sport.

I cannot believe this is now a thing, and this isn’t even the good sort of adjustable braking: brake bias. All the system in the BMW does is vary how hard you need to stomp on the pedal to achieve the same level of braking pressure. This is in addition to the already myriad of adjustments available for things like steering, transmission, suspension, and throttle, offering an absolutely dizzying array of possible combinations.

I do miss the days of sports cars coming out of the factory with one setting only for everything. Parameters were set by the engineers, who would formulate a singularly best dynamic configuration to extract the maximum out of a car. Automotive engineers are highly paid and highly skilled; I want them to decide and set the optimal mode, rather than letting me figure out which permutation of modes feel most definitive to my grubby fingers and my uncalibrated rear-end.

M cars of old like the E46 BMW M3 offers zero adjustments, and it was and still is a brilliant car.

I’m glad my 911 GT3 offers “only” two adjustments: sport modes for the PDK transmission and the suspension. Both are practically useless on public roads – sport suspension is way too stiff, and PDK Sport is far too aggressive, so the car is de facto setup as is from Zuffenhausen as intended by Porsche engineers. The steering has one ratio with no adjustments to effort, the sharp throttle response cannot be changed, and sure as hell the brakes has but one setting: immense.

Keep it simple, sports car manufacturers.

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Have a seat.

Quick thoughts on the 992

Let’s first get this out of the way: as with any new generation of 911, I’m hating the redesign now but will grow to love it later. Yes, I did so even with the much maligned 996.

But for now, my initial reaction to the new 992 is decidedly mixed. So designated as the 8th generation of the iconic 911, the 992 received its world premiership a few nights ago in Los Angeles. The car was only shown in S and 4S guise, with vanilla Carrera and slew of other variants to follow (much) later. I’ll leave you to peruse the countless automotive media outlets out there to have the stats and figures from the press release regurgitated to you.

The first problem that strikes me is the enormity of the wheels. Porsche have trickled down the staggered setup found in the 991 GT RS cars to the 992 Carrera, with the S trim featuring 20-inch up front and 21-inch wheels at the rear. Remember back when 20-inch wheels were the lone province of customized cars and trucks owned by rappers? Those days are long gone. When even a comparatively lowly Honda Civic Type R has 20-inch wheels, no surprise the latest plain 911 does as well.

Automotive design is starting to creep ever closer to looking like Matchbox or Hot Wheels models with these enormous wheel sizings. Give me a smaller rim with more tire sidewall anytime.

The second immediately problem with the 992 is at the back. Porsche for whatever reason have fitted a singular light-strip spanning the length of the rear-end, a familial design element seen in the latest 718, Panamera, Macan, and Cayenne models. I think it looks utterly out of place on the 992, and it renders the back of the car more bulbous than it really is. The 911 shape is timeless and recognizable the world over so I’m not sure why Porsche felt the need to implement a shared design cue from the rest of their lineup.

I do rather like the two slats on the rear intake deck functioning as the third brake light, so that when it’s activated it spells out “11” (as in 911). It’s a brilliant design detail.

Giant wheels and unwieldy looking rear-end aside, the rest of 992 exterior looks fantastic, especially from the front quarter view as seen in the main picture above. The flat hood-line and wrap-around front wings harken back to earlier air-cooled 911s, and I think it’s executed perfectly. The 992 is wide-body only for all trims, which is a shame because I quite prefer the more lithe and delicate stance of the narrow body. It’ll be weird indeed seeing a non S Carrera with the smaller wheels and the hulking fenders.

As for the interior, Porsche have done what’s en vogue these days and replaced analog items with digital screens as much as possible. I’m not as against the encroachment of digital displays in cars (thanks, Tesla) as others; at least Porsche kept the central tachometer an actual needle and number part, though the unit in the 992 looks like it belongs more on a Ford Mustang. Where’s the black face, white numbers, and red dial of old?

The starkest change in the new interior is the PDK shifter knob being replaced with a tiny rectangular nub. The driver won’t be able to toggle gears up and down like the lever of old; the nub is only used for selecting drive modes. Porsche restricts gear changing to the wheel paddles, which on one hand is the correct most fastest way to do it, but on the other I quite enjoy rowing through the gears using the center knob. I hope a proper PDK shift lever is brought back in the GT variants of the 992. There’s certainly room for one.

As ever, this world premier of the 992 is only the first salvo in what is to come numerous other models. Petrol-heads will be eagerly awaiting a new GT3, and whether or not it will still have an atmospheric engine. The regular 992 Carrera looks to be a proper sports car worth its steep entry price (it’s as fast as a 997 Turbo), but for me and many others, it’s the GT cars that most captures our attention, and money.

I really do hope I will grow to like the new rear-end design.

Make turbocharged engines great again

As a car enthusiasts I am predisposed to prefer naturally-aspirated engines over the equivalent turbocharged units. Having owned cars with both atmospheric and force induction, I greatly prefer the crisp response and melodic sounds of natural-aspiration, and I want that linear power push all the way towards the rev-limiter. Turbocharged engines with their huge torque plateaus and agonizing lag isn’t nearly as rewarding.

There’s an obvious headwind against our love of engines unencumbered with turbos: the entire automotive industry is heading the opposite direction. Due to ever stringent emission standards, automakers are gravitating heavily towards turbocharging to achieve the best of both worlds: sheer power when needed, but small-engine fuel economy it isn’t. It seems most manufacturers these days have got a two-liter turbocharged four-cylinder serving duty in their respective portfolio, replacing venerable naturally-aspirated V6s. In turn, turbocharged six-cylinders are occupying spots previously held by lumbering V8s.

Not even the revered and beloved sports car segment, massively low-volume it may be, is immune to the encroachment of turbochargers. The latest range of the iconic Porsche 911 is entirely motivated by turbocharged engines, save for the exclusive GT3. Similarly over at Ferrari, there’s but one model left that’s naturally-aspirated (812 Superfast). The legendary BMW M3 have lost its traditional atmospheric song for one whole generation already.

Perhaps instead of the #savethemanual campaign, petrol-heads should instead focus on saving the NA motor.

I’m not strictly against turbocharging; I think their power-per-liter possibilities are tremendous, and the mountainous shove once turbos are properly lit is rivaled only by electric cars. The crux of my issue with turbo engines is the utter lack of aural sensation: the typical mill in modern cars is muffled and sounds like a vacuum cleaner. Sound is an integral ingredient to the driving experience, otherwise we’d all be driving Tesla cars.

It isn’t like turbocharged engines can’t be made to sound exciting; we all grew up with WRC and those monster turbo machines masquerading as rally cars. The whooshes and hisses, the pops and bangs, and the ethereal whine of the turbo as it builds pressure: where have all this gone? Why have auto manufacturers engineered out these innate aural qualities of turbocharging? It doesn’t have to sound so sterile and benign; let me hear that it’s indeed got a turbo hanging off the exhaust manifold!

A turbo 911 Carrera that sounds like a group stage rally car is a delicious prospect indeed, one I’d readily hand my money over to.

And to think some people just go bowling.

I won't buy an A90 Supra without a manual

After seemingly the longest gestation period since the new Honda NSX, the return of the legendary Toyota Supra is set for early 2019. What is with Japanese manufacturers and these long teased-out development periods? Too many concept cars, not enough substance. By the time the NSX went on sale, the car enthusiast public was already bored with it. If I were Toyota I’d hide the new Supra until it’s ready for public consumption, otherwise risking it to the same fate.

Over-saturation risks didn’t stop Toyota from recently allowing motoring journalists to have a go in heavily camouflaged test mules. The early impressions are good: the chassis code A90 Supra is lithe and agile, with adequate power to give Porsche 718 owners and potential buyers a serious second thought. Co-developed in conjunction with the new BMW Z4 - because nobody makes money building sports cars these days unless you’re from Zuffenhausen, the A90 may share an inordinate amount of parts with the German car, but it reads to me the driving dynamics will be disparate and unique.

The new Supra will be pure sports car.

Except in the transmission department. Sharing the same BMW turbocharged straight-six power-plant with the Z4, the A90 Supra is expected to have horsepower figures in the upper 300s. I think that level of engine power does not warrant the necessity to pair it with an automatic transmission. A high-strung Porsche GT car absolutely demands a dual-clutch PDK gearbox for the full experience; the same can’t be said for a car with an estimated 0-60 time in the mid 4’s.

I’m far from an automatic gearbox hater - the ZF 8-speed going into the new Supra is one of the best ever made: in the appropriate setting they are superior to stick-shifts. The A90 is not one of those settings. The car really needs a manual gearbox, especially if it were to ever get my business. For all the talk of honoring tradition, how Chief Engineer Tetsuya Tada made sure the A90 would feature turbo inline-six engine and rear-wheel drive just like Supras of old, the one glaring omission in the nostalgia fest is the six-speed manual.

It’s not as if BMW haven’t got a manual gearbox from which Toyota can easily use: there’s perfectly fine units currently doing service in the M240i, M2, M3, and M4. It’d take relatively zero engineering muscle to implement any those six-speeds into the A90 Supra.

Rumors has it that Toyota will indeed produce a manual-spec Supra sometime after initial launch. I certainly hope it’s true: not only would I not buy one without a manual gearbox, the return of the legend isn’t complete without it.

Much camo, such wow.

Credit: Toyota