Awesome Thread... [Automotive Edition]

The rear view of the Schuppan 962CR is just epic!
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Front isn't too bad either.
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[YOUTUBE]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OFLQAEiO7xo[/YOUTUBE]

[YOUTUBE]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQWisHlRjRw[/YOUTUBE]

This has always been my favorite supercar by a long shot. I'd have this before a McLaren F1.

Whilst on the subject of supercars:

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someone mentioned italian cars, so I think a video of flames is fitting :D


[YOUTUBE]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zk2ixe3xlQI[/YOUTUBE]
 
Whilst on the subject of supercars:

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I see your 9 Lamborghini Diablo GTRs, and I raise you 11 more.
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Dodge Deora Concept

And its up for sale!!!!

Vehicle Description Courtesy RM Auctions:

Spectacular!...that's the best single word description for the remarkable Dodge Deora. When people see this futuristic cab-forward pickup today, they're certain it's an AMT scale model or a "Hot Wheels" car come to life. But it was the other way around. Created as a spectacular one-off custom, this Ridler Award winner from the 1967 Detroit Autorama was adopted by Dodge Division of Chrysler Corporation, and became one of the company's most popular show cars. Created by one of hot rodding's premier designers, the Deora was handcrafted by two of the best custom car builders of all time.

Here's how it all happened:

Detroit's famed Alexander Brothers, Mike and Larry, won considerable acclaim with a customized Ford Victoria called, "The Victorian," and the "Silver Sapphire," Clarence "Chili" Catallo's unforgettable "Little Deuce Coupe," which appeared on the cover of Hot Rod magazine, and on the cover of the Beach Boys' album of the same name. In 1964, they wanted to build a "far-out" custom truck using one of the Big Three's new cabover mini-pickups. They tapped a talented friend, Harry Bentley Bradley, to design it. The "A Brothers" had discovered Harry when he was a student at Pratt Institute in New York City. They'd followed his career path to General Motors, where he apparently did freelance design work on the side.

The plan was simple. The Alexanders were certain that Dodge would give them a stock A100 truck to customize once they'd seen Harry's futuristic design sketches. And if Chrysler Corporation didn't bite, they would try Ford Motor Company, who'd just introduced their own Econoline cabover. Years later, Harry Bradley, who never pulled punches, told Motor Trend's writers, "Of the three cab-forward pickups on the market at the time, the Dodge was unquestionably the homeliest."

But Harry obviously saw something beautiful and decidedly avant-garde in the basic shape of the little cab-forward truck. "What I wanted to do," Bradley recalled, "was get rid of that phone booth cab and integrate the upper (section of the body) with the lower. The finished truck would have no doors on either side. "I didn't want cutlines," Bradley declared. "We were always told at GM to play down cutlines. If cutlines were wonderful," he continued, "Ferraris would have them running down their sides." Harry Bradley insists he always thought of this design "...as a conceptual proposal, rather than a customizing solution."

That left the practical problem-solving up to Larry and Mike Alexander. Just how would the driver and passenger get inside? The ingenious answer was through the front window, which in execution, became a large, forward-opening glass hatch that the clever "A Brothers" fabricated using the lift-up rear window from a donor 1960 Ford station wagon. More about that in a moment:

The Alexanders liked Harry Bradley's radical design. To everyone's surprise and delight, so did the powers that be at Chrysler, who donated a stripped A100 as a sacrificial lamb. Mike and Larry began by whacking off the stock cab completely, right down to the floorpan. When the new roof section was tack-welded into place, it rested just about where the stock steering column had been. Bradley's original vision was that the front-opening hatch would be a one-piece unit, hinged at the roof's leading edge, like the tailgate of a hatchback or the liftgate of a modern station wagon.

But the stock A100's flimsy A-pillars would never have supported that arrangement, so Mike and Larry ingeniously crafted a split door setup. The rear section of the 1960 Ford station wagon, rotated 180-degrees, became the new cab roof. What had been the Ford's rear window, was now the Deora's new windshield. Hinged at the top, it was controlled by an electric motor that activated an hinged arm that was plated for looks and drilled for lightness. The "A Bros" hand-fabricated a lower front panel that fit neatly between the headlights. That panel, which became the lower portion of the cab's only door, was hinged on the right side for ease of entry and exit.

Transforming Harry Bradley's futuristic sketches into a working trucklet took all the ingenuity the Alexanders possessed. They may have used a BMW Isetta for inspiration. The stock steering column was replaced with a folding horizontal strut that rotated forward from the left side of the body to let the driver in and out. It locked into place when the driver was seated. The steering wheel was a stylish butterfly-shaped yoke, reportedly made from an Oldsmobile steering wheel, which would have been right at home in a small aircraft.

The steering box itself is a modified Chevrolet Corvair unit. The vertical steering column runs up and out of sight through the left cab body panel. A small sprocket on top of the column is connected via a roller chain to another sprocket about 12 inches to the right, on the end of the swiveling bracket, which in turn, is connected to the steering wheel. A finger-operated latch mechanism locks the wheel in front of the driver. During entrance and egress, the steering column tilts forward so the driver can squeeze by. The stock A100 foot pedals were already mounted in the floor, so they didn't need to be relocated. Engineers at Hurst Performance Products developed a custom floor shifter for the stock Dodge three-speed manual transmission.

The Alexander brothers wanted the occupants to sit low, inboard of the front wheel wells, so the slant-six was moved rearward about 15 inches to make room for the bucket seats. The engine now protruded into the pickup bed, but the show truck was never really designed as a practical hauler, so it wasn't a problem. There was never a plan to stuff a big V-8 in this vehicle. Its sleek silhouette requirement would not have tolerated it.

In order to achieve that ultra-low look, the radiator was relocated in the bed as well, just ahead of the rear axle. Twin air intake holes were cut into the bottom of the bed, and an electric fan was used to draw in cooling air. That meant that the fuel tank had to be moved from its stock location behind the rear axle to a new position just behind the reconstituted cab. The pickup bed itself was covered with a hard tonneau that was secured by chrome hood locking pins, so no one could see the magic that went on beneath it.

To effectively lower the chassis, the Alexander's raised the front frame rails and ran the front springs through the axle. Short-coupled industrial shocks replaced the original tubular shock absorbers in front. They also modified the rear suspension. The overall height of the truck went from about 72 inches in stock form, to just 57 inches after modifications ? that's a 15 inch difference! Contoured bucket seats leaned rearward just a little to accommodate the Deora's two stylish occupants. The cockpit itself was trimmed in pleated leather. In keeping with this car's atypical design, the instrument panel was relocated to the driver's side door, and a center console held a speedometer and the tachometer.

At the 1967 Detroit Autorama, the Deora completely swept the show, winning nine trophies plus the coveted Don Ridler award for the best new custom car. It was a poignant moment for Mike and Larry Alexander. Their father died on the morning of the Autorama setup day, but their mother convinced them that their Dad would have wanted the Deora to be shown. Interestingly, that was the only time the "A Brothers" ever showed the car in competition.

After the Deora was completed, Chrysler leased it to display on their auto show stands with their own concept cars, where it reportedly caused a sensation. Chrysler Corporation, who'd had nothing to do with the design save the donated A100 itself, claimed this car was a quantum leap in advanced vehicle styling. Today, over 40 years since it was first created, the Deora still resembles a car of the future. It should be noted that the remarkable mini-truck was conceived in an era where crumple zones and crash tests were unheard of, so there were no design compromises required for safety considerations. The cabin is small, but two adults can sit comfortably inside.

Jim Bradley told Motor Trend, "Chrysler never seemed to understand that we used (a lot of) Ford parts to build this car." Besides the 1960 Ford wagon tailgate and a small section of the station wagon's roof, the rear window was borrowed from a 1960 Ford sedan. And that's not all. 1964 ? Mustang taillight bezels formed the surrounds for the twin side duct exhausts. The taillights are especially clever. Hidden under the wood veneer panel that runs across the rear, they are only visible when they're illuminated. Viewed from behind, the lights themselves are reflected in a polished stainless steel strip that runs underneath them. They were made from sequential turn signals found on a Ford Thunderbird. When the directionals are activated, the flashing lights blip outward from the center.

Not long after it debuted, the Deora became one of the first 16 "Hot Wheels" model cars offered to youngsters all over the country. Harry Bradley, who had left GM to join Mattel, noted Mattel's research in that era showed that every kid in America owned at least 1.3 miniature "Hot Wheels" cars. "I don't think many people knew the Deora was a real vehicle," he mused.

Rod & Custom actually tested the Deora in its September 1967 issue. Editor Spence Murray reportedly drove the car more miles in one afternoon than it had ever been driven, and he was very impressed. "Our test drive went off without a hitch," he reported. Larry Alexander knew that (the) Deora would perform up to the standards of any mass-produced pickup truck," Murray wrote. "But I had to prove it to myself."

After the first year's lease was up, Chrysler arranged to lease the Deora for a second year. They requested a new look for 1968, so it was repainted in Lime Green Pearl. After the second year, Chrysler did not renew its lease. The Deora was sold to Al Davis, a noted custom car enthusiast. Davis passed away in 1970. His son, Al Jr., stored the car for a while, then took it on the show circuit in 1982 and won a Championship. In 1998, the Deora was taken out of storage and re-restored to resemble its 1967 appearance. The Alexanders hadn't kept the paint formula, so it's believed the present color is a little "greener" than the original gold. The born-again Deora wowed 'em once again in 2002 at the 50th Anniversary of the Detroit Autorama, when it starred in a display of famous Alexander Brothers customs. Many people couldn't believe this car had been built over 40 years ago. It's still that good.

One final note: the unusual "Deora" name was chosen after AMT, the well-known model car manufacturers, held a contest to name the vehicle. The winning name was supposed to mean "gold" in Spanish. It was apropos because of the show car's original Candy Gold color. AMT's 1/25th scale model of the Deora was produced in great volume, but they're scarce collector's items today. Mattel's "Hot Wheels" sold millions of miniature Deoras in several colors. The Deora's winning bidder will receive extensive records on this car from the consignor, including copies of Harry Bradley's personal notes on its design.

Custom car aficionados agree, there's nothing like the Deora, and there never will be. If you loved this car as a model, imagine what it would be like to own the real thing?

RM Auctions would like to thank Thomas Voehringer and Angus MacKenzie, of Motor Trend, for portions of the research used in this description.
 
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Nice clean new F-450 Powerstroke with a box by Braun Northwest.
 
could you drive the Deora on public roads?
 
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Nice clean new F-450 Powerstroke with a box by Braun Northwest.

WTF is this shit? Seriously? An Ambulance?
 
Nice clean new F-450 Powerstroke with a box by Braun Northwest.
Oh I'm sorry, you must be looking for Totally Normal Thread [Automotive Edition].
 
WTF is this shit? Seriously? An Ambulance?

I consider heavy equipment quite awesome. Ambulances, Fire engines, Semi trucks, etc.
 
I consider heavy equipment quite awesome. Ambulances, Fire engines, Semi trucks, etc.

Yea but pretty much everyone has seen those vehicles. But there is no reason to post a semi truck, for instance, unless it's carrying or doing something cool.
 
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*HEAD EXPLODES FROM AWESOMNESS OVERLOAD* :blowup:

Supercars of the 1970s

By Simon Charleswood

The supercar might have been a child of the 1960s, but it didn't really seize our imagination until the following decade, when glam rock and the Lamborghini Countach were all we cared about. But if the 1960s was all about free expression and self-indulgence, the 1970s brought us social unrest, an economic meltdown and cars strangled by air-emissions regulations. It makes you wonder how the supercar survived the decade at all.

While most of Europe's car builders hunkered down for the duration of the 1970s, Porsche and Aston Martin surprisingly decided to go big and build supercars meant to rival the exotic midengine cars from Italy. We remember the 1975 Porsche 911 Turbo, which could hit 60 mph in 6 seconds and make 100 mph in 13.2 seconds on the way to a top speed of 155 mph. But do we remember that the 1977 Aston Martin V8 Vantage did 60 mph in 5.4 seconds and hit 100 mph in 13.2 seconds as it went on to a top speed of 170 mph?

When we drive the 1975 Porsche 911 Turbo and the 1977 Aston Martin V8 Vantage now, we discover two car companies thinking very different things. Which suggests that all of us were thinking very different things back in the 1970s, too.

Porsche's Front-Engine Future
It's hard to believe now, but the Porsche 911 was never meant to last beyond 1981. The challenge of U.S. noise- and air-emissions regulations made Porsche believe that the clock was ticking on its air-cooled, rear-engine sports car, especially since the thing had been in production since 1964. The future was thought to be with the front-engine Porsche 928, which would be introduced in 1977. Yet the Porsche 911 continued to be a powerful force on racing tracks of the time once it incorporated the turbocharging technology developed for the 917-10 Can-Am racing car, and turbocharging was very much the most exciting technology of the decade.

With the 1975 Porsche 911 Turbo (the type 930), the Porsche executives in Stuttgart meant to build a homologation special for the turbocharged 934 and 935 racing cars scheduled for introduction in 1976 and maybe sell a few street cars besides. This G-body car had the new, big, federally mandated bumpers; the newly popular wide fenders of the Carrera RS; a large front airdam; and a signature rear spoiler (called a "tea tray" in Britain and a "whale tail" in the U.S.).

The Turbo's 2,994cc horizontally opposed-6 had Bosch K-Jetronic fuel injection and a KKK 3LDZ turbocharger, two technologies made for each other. With 12 psi of boost, you had 250 horsepower at 5,500 rpm, a massive amount of power for the time. A four-speed transmission with stout gears had to be used to withstand the torque load of 253 pound-feet at 4,000 rpm.

Demand for the 1975 Porsche 911 Turbo was so great that the original production run of 500 was swiftly extended into perpetuity. No longer would Porsche be regarded as a manufacturer of mere sports cars; the 911 Turbo was a supercar.

Back to the Future
Today the reputation of the original Porsche 911 Turbo is burdened by two hoary preconceptions. First, it's a 911, so we all know what happens when a rear-engine car is driven rather overambitiously around a corner. And second, the single-turbo setup has throttle lag so dire that you need to send ahead your right foot's intentions in writing to make sure the power will finally arrive at the right moment.

Well, here and now on devious Welsh roads, neither of these applies. Despite our paranoia, the rear of the car behaves itself perfectly. As for throttle lag, the turbo gradually feeds in the power at 3,000 rpm, and below that the 3.0-liter flat-6 is hardly lacking in torque. And aren't turbocharged engines supposed to be quiet? This one certainly isn't, as it has a lumpy, off-beat resonance with a lovely guttural note.

The Turbo also rides a little lumpy at low speed, and it takes a bit to get used to the offset driving position, the floor-mounted pivots for the pedals and the tall shift lever. But as the engine's revs rise, there's a complicated repertoire of vocals, proceeding from bass to a brief V8 impression accompanied by fluttering cam-gear while the KKK turbo gently whistles. When you get serious, the engine howls as the power shoves the 2,513-pound car into the middle distance.

The steering is incredibly light, and there's a brief sensation of numbness on-center from all the steering caster dialed in to make the beast track straight. The brakes are good once you get used to the lack of power assist, but the transmission takes a bit longer to accommodate because you have to mentally adjust to the use of just four widely spaced ratios.

Like many German cars, the Turbo grows on you. The further you press this charismatic engine toward its wailing 6,750-rpm redline, the more you fall for this car. Far from being tricky, aloof or hefty, the Turbo is an education. It's poised and balanced and gives relentless power delivery.

Come Home to England
Compared to the functional muscularity of the Porsche 911, this particular 1981-built iteration of the 1977 Aston Martin V8 Vantage seems beautifully proportioned and detailed in a traditional British way. It inherited much of its styling from William Towns' beautiful DBS of 1967, although dreadful, tacked-on plastic cladding disguises it.

Like the 911 Turbo, the Vantage is really all about its engine, which endured a troubled gestation. Designer Tadek Marek planned it for the DBS and it was dynoed as a 4.8-liter V8 in 1965. Punched out to 5.0 liters, it made 450 hp in the back of the Lola T70 MkIII that ex-F1 champion John Surtees took to the 24 Hours of Le Mans in 1967. Finally a fuel-injected DOHC 5,340cc version was revealed in the nose of the 1970 DBS V8, but it was criticized for heavy fuel consumption and a lack of low-down torque, so four two-barrel Weber carburetors made a return in the 1973 DBS.

While the 1970s opened a brave new chapter for Porsche, times were grim for Aston Martin. The glory days of the 1950s and '60s were gone (though the company struggled even then, really), and things were just beginning to progress under new ownership by 1976. Everyone was eager to introduce a new V8-powered car and finally by 1977 it had come together. They did their best to keep from putting much wood in the car's interior ? a point of distinction between Aston Martin and Jaguar ? but customer demand was too strong.

Classically Super
No official power outputs were released for the 1977 Vantage's 5.3-liter V8, but 430 hp at 5,800 rpm is frequently mentioned. Once you fire it up, you realize why so many have always dreamed of owning an Aston Martin V8. Of course once you take the car up through the cogs, the gearbox proves heavy and obstinate and it won't be rushed, just like those David Brown transmissions of the 1950s that were literally designed for agricultural and industrial applications.

Once a truce is signed with the gearbox, the 3,803-pound V8 Vantage thunders down the road like heavy cavalry charging into battle. The V8 delivers unbridled torque, and it's total and irresistible, tearing at the tarmac with maniacal determination. The beast bellows, and the throttle response is surprisingly crisp and precise for a 1970s power plant all the way up to the redline of 6,250 rpm.

The power-assisted steering is quite light, but it's still positive and direct. This car is far more precise and alert than you would imagine a big bruiser has any right to be. Once you turn into a corner, you become aware of the Vantage's considerable weight, so cornering is done in slow motion. Slow into the corner on the brakes, set up for the apex and let the body settle, and once the car tells you it's happy, then you make with the throttle. A soulful bellow from the engine follows.

There is little clever or complicated about the Vantage, but therein lies its appeal. It is honest, unlike its DB-series predecessors, whose svelte styling was at odds with none-too-dainty dynamics. This Aston is what it is, and it is immense fun.

Choose Your Weapon
Choosing between these two cars is like being asked whether you prefer a good night at the pub or downhill skiing ? that's how different they are.

The 1975 Porsche 911 Turbo scores for individuality, great chassis dynamics and an engine that inspires lust. Before the Turbo, the Porsche 911 was just a car, and Porsche reckoned it would soon come to the end of its useful life. In fact, there was no other modern example of a car that had maintained its shape and its appeal over a long life span. Well, maybe the Volkswagen Beetle, but even that car was being replaced by the Volkswagen Golf in 1976.

With turbocharging and extreme performance, the 911 became at once a supercar and an icon, the kind of car that everyone talked about. Though Porsche has stepped away from turbocharged power for the 911 several times, the company finds itself compelled by enthusiasts to bring it back again and again in yet another generation.

Meanwhile, the 1977 Aston Martin V8 Vantage counters the Porsche's supercar message with a beautiful design, hugely charismatic charm and another engine that inspires lust (though sadly it never appeared in the U.S. in extreme-output form). In the 1970s, the excitement about midengine cars like the Ferrari 328 GTB, Lamborghini Countach and even the Lotus Esprit threatened to sweep aside front-engine sports cars, which seemed old-fashioned and irrelevant. Without the presence of the V8 Vantage, we might have missed the revival of the classic front-engine sports car in the 1990s by such cars as the Aston Martin Vanquish, Ferrari 550M and Jaguar XK8, which made the package relevant for a supercar once again.

Before today we didn't really understand the appeal of the Porsche 911 or the Aston Martin V8 Vantage, but now we're in mental gridlock while choosing between the two. Pick the one that's super in the first mile or the one that's super mile after mile? Call us British if you will, but the Aston Martin V8 Vantage is the one for us.
 
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