#too many pics of me online with cigarettes which i barely smoke so here is me with weed which i smoke…daily 😏
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a joint uh day keeps the homicides at bay
#i LOVE how blurry this is#my face#butch4butch#alternative poc#too many pics of me online with cigarettes which i barely smoke so here is me with weed which i smoke…daily 😏#transmaculine#punk dyke#another dykefag look#transfag#butch on t#masc lesbian#body modifactions#boys with piercings#goth bulldyke#mall goth#night time#420#marijuana#mine
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Friendship from my perspective
I go through phases, where I see other groups of females having fun together, being that close they sleep in the same bed after a night out and spooning each other or a work colleague takes time out of her busy schedule to call her bestie and talk her through a panic attack.
... And I feel like I’m missing out, I feel like I should have these female friends, that I can be totally myself around, almost wishing I was out with them on that night out they shared on their Snapchat story.
I don’t have many friends, after realising I wasn’t worth much to some, I blocked and deleted them because they were draining my energy, reading my messages (checking up on them) and then not replying, kept asking them, is everything okay? You wanna meet up soon? Have I done something wrong? (this is just within the last year)
At school I was the reject girl no one liked, I wasn’t pretty, I wasn’t skinny, I wasn’t as confident or outgoing compared to most girls in my school, barely any girls wanted to be my friend until I started my GCSEs and I had 2 friends, who up until recently I’ve just started talking to and meeting up with again.
Out of school I was friends with a girl from another school, who was also bullied, she was my best friend at the time and after she ran away from home she soon became my foster sister and started living with me. We both had crushes, all teenage girls do, I would know who hers was, but I’d never say anything to him. However when she knew who my crush was, she had to have all the attention. One prime example would be that we were at my friends house who I had a crush on, she took his belt off and put it on herself and made my crush and his friend chase after her all around the house, I was sat on the sofa the entire time, not having the best time of course. And this happened multiple times when we were kids. Around 2 years ago we went to the pub where her bf worked, and she was chatting up a bloke from her school “for me” but you could tell she loved the male attention, tying not to make it look like she was enjoying it too much, due to the fella keeping a watchful eye on her. We aren’t friends anymore
I was friends with 3 girls in sixth form, 1 of which used to bully me in primary school, and another got drunk and involved me and her best friend in a car accident, I have a statement to the police and she got a driving ban but her other friend didn’t, to protect her, I guess I may have done the wrong thing in terms of “the girl code” but her excuse was that she was having a hard time because she THOUGHT she may have been pregnant after having sex with a stranger abroad.. (like worrying about being pregnant is the main thing here, she could have gotten a nasty STI!?) and I just felt like, so you put your friends in danger all because you can’t keep your fucking legs closed. We aren’t friends anymore
When I was about 18 I made friends with a 14 year old who was a bit alternative, was mature for her age but certainly showed her real age when she drank alcohol, got giddy etc. We were friends for a long time and I classed her as my best friend at this time in my life, she also had another best friend who she lost touch with a little over the next few years after this, we used to make a thing about getting together every weekend to get drunk and stay at each other’s houses, make each other food, going shopping, all the girly stuff I craved doing with my mates in school, I’d reverted back to a 14 year old. We fell out a couple of times but she left school and got into working at make up counters. when she turned 18 she became a manager at Clinique in Debenhams and she seemed to change, she went from the skater girl I first met, who drank lambrini on the skate park to this blonde, pompous, Prosecco drinking arrogant twat.. her and another girl who hung around with us at the skatepark moved in together, I was asked to go out to Nonnas (a posh bar) after I broke up with someone but that wasn’t the reason she wanted to meet up, as she then said she would have to have a movie night with her dad, then again changed her mind because her dad said they and do it another time.. then asked if someone else could join us for “Prosecco”, during this meet up, I was able to tell my friend what my ex had done for me to dump him, and she sat and told me that I just need to find someone who’s different from me, then carried on a conversation with the other friend she had invited, every time I tried to have an input it was like they were singling me out, every time I went to say something, someone butted in and started talking about something else, I mentioned a trip they went on without me and that was the topic of conversation for the rest of my stay, I got interrupted again by the other friend shouting “let’s get cocktails” knowing they were £7 a cocktail and normally I wouldn’t expect my friends to pay that much for a drink for me, but this time it was like nah fuck it, you can pay, they got martinis in tall pretty glasses and I had an amaretto sour, it only took me till they both turned their backs to me to put their drinks neatly in front of a plant on the other side of the table to take a picture and upload it to Instagram tagging each other in it but not me and then captioned it as “just out with the bestie” no plural, shortly after I said I’m leaving after this drink and this cigarette and I did. There was some discussion about that evening, my friend did say she was sorry and that she didn’t think but then I felt like I was the friend that gets invited out when no one else is available, I’m the last resort, I’m the boring friend that isn’t any fun when I go out with a group of people, that group of friends were just not involving me in anything anymore and again was being ignored on messages. We are not friends anymore
I was friends with a girl who lived in a women’s refuge at the time, who had mental health problems, we became friends because I was making my way to the skatepark after seeing my boyfriend and she was leaving, I asked her why she was leaving and she said because she was being bullied, I said let’s get some weed and take the piss out of them, so we did and we spent nearly every day together after that, but she only stayed with me because I had weed for her to smoke, she kept promising she would get some when she got paid but never did, she got with my next door neighbour and once asked me for some fake tan and I said there will be some somewhere, when I found it I told her where it was and I’d get it for her when I remember, the next day it was gone and I asked her if she had taken it, she said no, however she slipped up by saying the brand of the fake tan, (St Moriz) and staying how it affects her skin, I knew she had lied and had it out with her and she apologised for lieing and stealing, I gave her one last chance, she called me crying saying she had enough of everyone, so I told her to come over to my place, have a night off smoking weed and just chill and have a pamper night, she said she will when she’s done something I asked her what it was and she said she was waiting for someone to come back to Queen’s Park so she can have a smoke with them, so around 2 hours went by and I called her again, she said she was still waiting for this guy, so I told her, do you think you can use me? Do you think you can just use my home like a hotel? And use me for weed? It was clear she was using me due to the fact she was staying where the weed were. We fell out for ages but we became friends again recently (no where near as close)
I was once friends with another girl who had mental health problems, she wanted to move to Sheffield after us being close for a while, she got with someone who was already living there, she saved my life as well, if it wasn’t for her I’d have committed suicide.. seriously.. she split with said guy, moved back to her mums for a bit and then moved back to Sheffield, she told me before she left that she would never forget about me or leave me out because she has an “attachment disorder” and that she is attached to me as a friend. We met up once the first time she moved and I arranged it, and I saw her when she was living with her mum but then when she moved back again, she uploaded a pic to her insta that she wouldn’t normally upload, she isn’t the kind to post pics of body parts let’s just say, so this was weird for me to see, so I asked about it and she basically shunted me and said if you don’t like it fuck off, I was just trying to understand why she felt the need to upload a pic like that, to get male attention essentially. She told me she’s into DDLG (dominant daddy little girl) but she said it wasn’t ever sexual whenever she entered “little space” where she would talk and act like a 4 - 7 year old girl, colouring in colouring books, having a stuffed toy and a dummy in her mouth (she called the dummy her “paci” as in pacifier) I got her to send me a link to a website that explains it in simple terms, I read it and still didn’t understand why she uploaded this picture, she said it was because her insta is like an online scrapbook and she said she thought she looked good in the photo and said she was doing it from a feminist perspective (which I just do not understand) but I respected this anyway and moved on from it even though, in my opinion, she should have more self respect, sorry for being old fashioned but that is just me. Photos aren’t yours once they reach the internet.. Js. After this I kept messaging her, checking in with her, asking if she wanted to meet up and things, I even texted her one day and as a joke I said you aren’t ignoring me are you? And she did in fact ignore me. Eventually after getting sick and tired of being ignored and getting upset about possible reasons why, I decided, this no longer serves me, and blocked and deleted her on all my social media profiles. We are no longer friends
I was friends with another girl with mental health issues, when I first met her she wouldn’t go out drinking, she just invited me over for a sleepover with alcohol and some munchies, which is still amazing, but I just spontaneously asked if she wanted to go out and honestly it was probably one of the best nights both of us had in ages. She started to come out of her shell a bit, we did a lot of things together and got quite close, we had such a laugh when we got drunk together, I probably miss her the most to be honest.. she fell out with me because she thought I was taking her for granted and perhaps I was without realising at the time but no, completely dropped me on my head and said “I don’t want anything to do with you anymore, I’ve had enough of being a doormat” not just with me but she had pied everyone off that she though weren’t good enough to be her friend, soon enough she had no friends but I stay in touch with her cousin and I spoke to her and she said she would pass on a message for me (after about 6 months or more) I didn’t get a message straight away but eventually I got a text from this girl, basically saying sorry it’s taken so long to message, that she had been thinking about what to actually message me, I wanted her to know that if she didn’t have anyone, I’m still here, cause I never meant any harm in the first place, she told me she just had enough and ended up fucking everyone off and her bf were the only friend she had left because she admitted she was too hard on some people. She went back into her shell and seemed to like it there, she came out drinking but only till around 10pm on New Year’s Eve 2018 with her bf and that was the last time I saw her, I tried to check on her and ask if she wanted to meet up, I got a rude reply from her bf which she apologised on his behalf for... and then continued to ignore me, the last message I sent was, have I done something wrong?? And I told myself, I’ll wait a week - a week went by and still no reply so I blocked and deleted her as well.
I started working for a company and a college friend helped me get the job, over the course of 2 years I got to know her a lot better, also had mental health problems, only she self harmed... A LOT and then covered the scars with tattoos, she told me why she self harms one day, she used to invite me to the pub but I never had the money or energy after working at a dog grooming salon - we had a new manager and we spoke about what she is and isn’t doing properly, I said one thing is that she isn’t sticking to the bookings, I would book in a specific breed with myself so that I could put it in my portfolio because it’s what I needed to move forward onto the assessment I needed to do, and because my manager had a big dog booked in with her, she would swap the dog I needed with the big dog so I had to groom the big dog and she could groom the cute small one instead. We bitched about our new manager quite a lot. I had been suspended in my first year because the girl that got me the job, reported me to management after I came in one morning while the main shop wasn’t open, the night before I checked my bookings and everything was fine but when I arrived for my shift, I had a labradoodle which required two people to groom her, she was very nervous, and I had it swapped onto my bookings because the girl that got me the job wanted to groom the smaller dog on her own, the nervous dog was pulling her legs away from me but the girl told management that I was pulling at her legs and swearing at her (WHEN SAID GIRL ACTUALLY PUNCHED A FUCKING DOG IN THE LEG WHILE I WAS RESTRAINING IT FOR HER - YOU’RE WELCOME BY THE WAY - THATS HOW A TEAM WORKS, YOU FUCKING HELP) after being suspended I was investigated and disciplined as gross misconduct, not only this but a lot of bitching and a lot of rumours later, (roughly a year later - after I had been signed off work with anxiety and depression) I came back and during my day I had to deal with a customer complaint, I asked both the girl and another colleague to support me by putting my next dog back in a cage while I help a customer make a complaint, no management were around so I had to wait with the customer, I hadn’t realised that when I came into the main salon area that my next dog was still hooked up to what we call a noose, so I put him away and carried on, I got suspended that day as well and later investigated and had a disciplinary hearing for gross misconduct - the girl told me she felt guilty and shouldn’t have gone to management and should have helped me, I was asked if I would like to be taken out of the grooming salon and into the shop, I basically said you can stick your job up your arse, cause I’d had enough of everyone in the grooming salon banding together to purposefully make me anxious and picking on me. Even this girls parents don’t like me, they look at me in disgust and I even saw this girl yesterday, while she walked past she must have seen me and she muttered under her breath “ooohh god” oh I am sorry for my mere existence?? I’m sorry for doing absolutely nothing to you to deserve being stabbed in the back like that. I actually thought we were friends. I was clearly wrong to think that.
So this now brings me to a sort of conclusion, where I say something like, so all you bitches can suck a dick. No, I’ve held onto this for years, and I can’t seem to let go. I don’t understand why I get misunderstood and mistreated by so-called friends, I don’t understand why people think it’s a normal thing to stab your friend in the back when all they’ve done is try to be there for you, cause I’ve been through some shit, but I think this hurts me the most, when I look back at friendships that have broken down either because of my actions or their actions, I just can’t seem to get closure on this and I can’t seem to let it go either.
So all I ask is this, if you think you’ve been mentioned on this or you think you’ve done something really shitty towards me, then please have some fucking balls, PM me and tell me what the fuck I have done wrong to deserve this bullshit? So I can ACTUALLY understand why? And maybe ACTUALLY move on and be able to enjoy my life a little more? Stop being a shitty person all ya fuckin life
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Quick Take: 2018 Vanderhall Venice
EL SEGUNDO, California — I have never understood why people in this day and age take up cigarette smoking. Everyone knows what tobacco does—it gets you addicted to nicotine, it numbs your senses of taste and smell, and it massively increases your chances of dying an early and rather painful death, all while costing you lots of money. Why would anyone willingly sign up for such a fate?
After driving the three-wheel 2018 Vanderhall Venice, I’m starting to see the appeal.
There was no doubt in my mind as I fumbled my way over the Vanderhall’s bodywork and dropped into the driver’s seat—Doors? Where we’re going, we don’t need doors!—that I was taking my life into my hands. The 1,475-lb Venice is essentially an aluminum-and-plastic shell with the go-guts of a Chevrolet Cruze strapped to the front. It stands barely waist-high to a short guy like me and wheel-high to a decent-sized pickup truck. When you’re driving a vehicle this small, even a Smart ForTwo poses a credible threat.
California does not require helmets for enclosed three-wheelers like the Vanderhall, though in retrospect I probably should have worn one. Yes, there are seat belts, and I’m sure that in the event of a crash they would have made my body much easier to locate, while the rollover bars would have greatly increased the odds that I could have an open-casket funeral. Never in my almost-thirty-year driving career has my own personal safety been so dependent on the vigilance and care of strangers. I may be a card-carrying Democrat, but this was a bit much even for me.
The saving grace is that no one seems to want to hit you. Everywhere I went, people reacted to the Vanderhall with double-takes, stares, smiles, and waves. I made rapid progress on the open road as drivers in front of me changed lanes and dropped back, presumably to verify that the little blue lozenge was indeed one wheel short of a quartet. Then they’d sit on my quarter and gawk, eager to see not only the car but also the nutjob crazy enough to drive it on a Los Angeles freeway.
Yep, that’s right, I took the Vanderhall on Interstate 405, and it did just fine. Driving as fast as I dared—an indicated 85 MPH—it felt stable and sure, though I shudder to think of what might have happened if I had to make a sudden swerve. Vanderhalls don’t have stability control, and what good would it do? There are no separate left and right rear wheels on which to apply the brakes.
I had a lot more fun on city streets and back roads where I could enjoy the point-and-shoot nature of the GM-sourced 1.4-liter turbocharged mill. The engine’s flat torque curve renders the six-speed automatic’s manual-shift function largely superfluous; just boot the throttle and you’re away, and if you keep your foot planted you’ll be rewarded by a nice double-pop from the exhaust as the transmission upshifts. Vanderhall claims a 0-60 time of 4.5 seconds, which seems overly optimistic to me, but there’s no question this thing is quick. And loud. And risky. And wonderful.
The irony here is that as much as I loved the Vanderhall, if you ask me to expound on it, I can do nothing but complain. The driving position is terrible. The adjustable steering column doesn’t move far enough out or up to put the wheel where it needs to be. The brake pedal sits way higher than the accelerator, which makes the touchy brakes feel all the more abrupt.
You cannot open the hood without a tool kit, and you can’t carry a tool kit because you can’t fold the seats forward to access the vestigial cargo compartment (they do slide backwards and forwards, however). You can strap one or maybe two grocery bags into the passenger seat, but forget about storing cargo on the floor; it’s flat (thank you, front-wheel-drive), so anything on the passenger’s side can easily roll to the driver’s side and get jammed under the pedals.
The loud and nearly constant wheezing and whooshing from the turbocharger and its blow-off valve reminded me of the air brakes on an old GM city bus I used to own. And you know what else reminded me of the bus? The Vanderhall’s turning circle. U-turns require three lanes and a call to the harbormaster, and I couldn’t tell you the number of times I turned into a parking spot just a tad too late and had to back-and-fill to make it. (Actually, I could tell you the number of times—four—but I don’t want to.)
The ergonomics are terrible. The tiny circular mirrors are as close to useless as it is possible to be without venturing into actual uselessness. Overall, the car feels like it was built in a garden shed by someone who was impatient to finish and slightly hung over.
And to top it all off, Vanderhalls are ridiculously expensive. The single-seat Speedster lists for $27,925 (including destination charge; there’s also a prep fee that varies from dealer to dealer), plus options. The version we tested, the Venice, starts three grand higher. If you’re aching for a more thorough evacuation of your wallet, you can get the $50,925 Laguna model with A/C, paddle shifters, adjustable suspension, and a carbon-fiber body with removable roof. If you’re a regular reader of this site, I don’t have to tell you how much Miata—or, in the case of the Laguna, how many Miatas—you can get for that kind of money.
When I posted a pic of the Venice on Facebook, a fellow writer messaged me: “You’re driving a Vanderhall? That thing is terrible.”
“I know,” I wrote back. “I love it.”
Because for all its flaws—hell, maybe because of its flaws—I think the Vanderhall is brilliant. It’s quick to go, quicker to stop, and good fun to fling around the turns (supposedly giving in to benign understeer if you push it hard, but I didn’t dare). It’s cool to look at and comfortable enough to drive all day. I can even forgive its automatic transmission. Sure, real cars have manuals—but this isn’t a real car, is it?
Besides, is there any finer felicity than looking over your left shoulder to check for traffic and seeing nothing but the world beyond? The Vanderhall gives you all the joys of a motorcycle without the danger of falling over and looking like a dolt.
For the record, opinion among my Automobile colleagues is split. Senior editor Kirill Ougarov loves it as much as I do, possibly more. Online editor Ed Tahaney thinks it’s stupid but fun. News editor Conner Golden thinks I’m being overly enthusiastic, and senior editor Nelson Ireson thinks I’ve lost touch with reality. (He also requested I work the word “Vanderhair” into my review to describe the state of one’s coiffure after driving it. Done.)
In a way, buying a Vanderhall is a bit like taking up smoking. It’s addictive, it’s hazardous, it destroys your senses (hearing rather than smell), and long-term use will probably kill you. It’s awful and it’s dangerous—but unlike smoking cigarettes, driving a Vanderhall is absolutely fantastic. If these start turning up cheap on the used market, I might well buy one.
2018 Vanderhall Venice Specifications
ON SALE Now PRICE $27,925/$35,129 (base/as tested) ENGINE 1.4L turbocharged DOHC 16-valve I-4/200 hp, 200 lb-ft TRANSMISSION 6-speed automatic LAYOUT 0-door, 2-passenger, front-engine, FWD autocycle EPA MILEAGE 24/32 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 145.2 x 68.9 x 48.8 in WHEELBASE 100.4 in WEIGHT 1,475 lb 0-60 MPH 4.5 sec TOP SPEED 130 mph
The post Quick Take: 2018 Vanderhall Venice appeared first on Automobile Magazine.
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Quick take: 2018 Vanderhall Venice
EL SEGUNDO, California — I have never understood why people in this day and age take up cigarette smoking. Everyone knows what tobacco does—it gets you addicted to nicotine, it numbs your senses of taste and smell, and it massively increases your chances of dying an early and rather painful death, all while costing you lots of money. Why would anyone willingly sign up for such a fate?
After driving the three-wheel 2018 Vanderhall Venice, I’m starting to see the appeal.
There was no doubt in my mind as I fumbled my way over the Vanderhall’s bodywork and dropped into the driver’s seat—Doors? Where we’re going, we don’t need doors!—that I was taking my life into my hands. The 1,475-lb Venice is essentially an aluminum-and-plastic shell with the go-guts of a Chevrolet Cruze strapped to the front. It stands barely waist-high to a short guy like me and wheel-high to a decent-sized pickup truck. When you’re driving a vehicle this small, even a Smart ForTwo poses a credible threat.
California does not require helmets for enclosed three-wheelers like the Vanderhall, though in retrospect I probably should have worn one. Yes, there are seat belts, and I’m sure that in the event of a crash they would have made my body much easier to locate, while the rollover bars would have greatly increased the odds that I could have an open-casket funeral. Never in my almost-thirty-year driving career has my own personal safety been so dependent on the vigilance and care of strangers. I may be a card-carrying Democrat, but this was a bit much even for me.
The saving grace is that no one seems to want to hit you. Everywhere I went, people reacted to the Vanderhall with double-takes, stares, smiles, and waves. I made rapid progress on the open road as drivers in front of me changed lanes and dropped back, presumably to verify that the little blue lozenge was indeed one wheel short of a quartet. Then they’d sit on my quarter and gawk, eager to see not only the car but also the nutjob crazy enough to drive it on a Los Angeles freeway.
Yep, that’s right, I took the Vanderhall on Interstate 405, and it did just fine. Driving as fast as I dared—an indicated 85 MPH—it felt stable and sure, though I shudder to think of what might have happened if I had to make a sudden swerve. Vanderhalls don’t have stability control, and what good would it do? There are no separate left and right rear wheels on which to apply the brakes.
I had a lot more fun on city streets and back roads where I could enjoy the point-and-shoot nature of the GM-sourced 1.4-liter turbocharged mill. The engine’s flat torque curve renders the six-speed automatic’s manual-shift function largely superfluous; just boot the throttle and you’re away, and if you keep your foot planted you’ll be rewarded by a nice double-pop from the exhaust as the transmission upshifts. Vanderhall claims a 0-60 time of 4.5 seconds, which seems overly optimistic to me, but there’s no question this thing is quick. And loud. And risky. And wonderful.
The irony here is that as much as I loved the Vanderhall, if you ask me to expound on it, I can do nothing but complain. The driving position is terrible. The adjustable steering column doesn’t move far enough out or up to put the wheel where it needs to be. The brake pedal sits way higher than the accelerator, which makes the touchy brakes feel all the more abrupt.
You cannot open the hood without a tool kit, and you can’t carry a tool kit because you can’t fold the seats forward to access the vestigial cargo compartment (they do slide backwards and forwards, however). You can strap one or maybe two grocery bags into the passenger seat, but forget about storing cargo on the floor; it’s flat (thank you, front-wheel-drive), so anything on the passenger’s side can easily roll to the driver’s side and get jammed under the pedals.
The loud and nearly constant wheezing and whooshing from the turbocharger and its blow-off valve reminded me of the air brakes on an old GM city bus I used to own. And you know what else reminded me of the bus? The Vanderhall’s turning circle. U-turns require three lanes and a call to the harbormaster, and I couldn’t tell you the number of times I turned into a parking spot just a tad too late and had to back-and-fill to make it. (Actually, I could tell you the number of times—four—but I don’t want to.)
The ergonomics are terrible. The tiny circular mirrors are as close to useless as it is possible to be without venturing into actual uselessness. Overall, the car feels like it was built in a garden shed by someone who was impatient to finish and slightly hung over.
And to top it all off, Vanderhalls are ridiculously expensive. The single-seat Speedster lists for $27,925 (including destination charge; there’s also a prep fee that varies from dealer to dealer), plus options. The version we tested, the Venice, starts three grand higher. If you’re aching for a more thorough evacuation of your wallet, you can get the $50,925 Laguna model with A/C, paddle shifters, adjustable suspension, and a carbon-fiber body with removable roof. If you’re a regular reader of this site, I don’t have to tell you how much Miata—or, in the case of the Laguna, how many Miatas—you can get for that kind of money.
When I posted a pic of the Venice on Facebook, a fellow writer messaged me: “You’re driving a Vanderhall? That thing is terrible.”
“I know,” I wrote back. “I love it.”
Because for all its flaws—hell, maybe because of its flaws—I think the Vanderhall is brilliant. It’s quick to go, quicker to stop, and good fun to fling around the turns (supposedly giving in to benign understeer if you push it hard, but I didn’t dare). It’s cool to look at and comfortable enough to drive all day. I can even forgive its automatic transmission. Sure, real cars have manuals—but this isn’t a real car, is it?
Besides, is there any finer felicity than looking over your left shoulder to check for traffic and seeing nothing but the world beyond? The Vanderhall gives you all the joys of a motorcycle without the danger of falling over and looking like a dolt.
For the record, opinion among my Automobile colleagues is split. Senior editor Kirill Ougarov loves it as much as I do, possibly more. Online editor Ed Tahaney thinks it’s stupid but fun. News editor Conner Golden thinks I’m being overly enthusiastic, and senior editor Nelson Ireson thinks I’ve lost touch with reality. (He also requested I work the word “Vanderhair” into my review to describe the state of one’s coiffure after driving it. Done.)
In a way, buying a Vanderhall is a bit like taking up smoking. It’s addictive, it’s hazardous, it destroys your senses (hearing rather than smell), and long-term use will probably kill you. It’s awful and it’s dangerous—but unlike smoking cigarettes, driving a Vanderhall is absolutely fantastic. If these start turning up cheap on the used market, I might well buy one.
2018 Vanderhall Venice Specifications
ON SALE Now PRICE $27,925/$35,129 (base/as tested) ENGINE 1.4L turbocharged DOHC 16-valve I-4/200 hp, 200 lb-ft TRANSMISSION 6-speed automatic LAYOUT 0-door, 2-passenger, front-engine, FWD autocycle EPA MILEAGE 24/32 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 145.2 x 68.9 x 48.8 in WHEELBASE 100.4 in WEIGHT 1,475 lb 0-60 MPH 4.5 sec TOP SPEED 130 mph
The post Quick take: 2018 Vanderhall Venice appeared first on Automobile Magazine.
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Quick take: 2018 Vanderhall Venice
EL SEGUNDO, California — I have never understood why people in this day and age take up cigarette smoking. Everyone knows what tobacco does—it gets you addicted to nicotine, it numbs your senses of taste and smell, and it massively increases your chances of dying an early and rather painful death, all while costing you lots of money. Why would anyone willingly sign up for such a fate?
After driving the three-wheel 2018 Vanderhall Venice, I’m starting to see the appeal.
There was no doubt in my mind as I fumbled my way over the Vanderhall’s bodywork and dropped into the driver’s seat—Doors? Where we’re going, we don’t need doors!—that I was taking my life into my hands. The 1,475-lb Venice is essentially an aluminum-and-plastic shell with the go-guts of a Chevrolet Cruze strapped to the front. It stands barely waist-high to a short guy like me and wheel-high to a decent-sized pickup truck. When you’re driving a vehicle this small, even a Smart ForTwo poses a credible threat.
California does not require helmets for enclosed three-wheelers like the Vanderhall, though in retrospect I probably should have worn one. Yes, there are seat belts, and I’m sure that in the event of a crash they would have made my body much easier to locate, while the rollover bars would have greatly increased the odds that I could have an open-casket funeral. Never in my almost-thirty-year driving career has my own personal safety been so dependent on the vigilance and care of strangers. I may be a card-carrying Democrat, but this was a bit much even for me.
The saving grace is that no one seems to want to hit you. Everywhere I went, people reacted to the Vanderhall with double-takes, stares, smiles, and waves. I made rapid progress on the open road as drivers in front of me changed lanes and dropped back, presumably to verify that the little blue lozenge was indeed one wheel short of a quartet. Then they’d sit on my quarter and gawk, eager to see not only the car but also the nutjob crazy enough to drive it on a Los Angeles freeway.
Yep, that’s right, I took the Vanderhall on Interstate 405, and it did just fine. Driving as fast as I dared—an indicated 85 MPH—it felt stable and sure, though I shudder to think of what might have happened if I had to make a sudden swerve. Vanderhalls don’t have stability control, and what good would it do? There are no separate left and right rear wheels on which to apply the brakes.
I had a lot more fun on city streets and back roads where I could enjoy the point-and-shoot nature of the GM-sourced 1.4-liter turbocharged mill. The engine’s flat torque curve renders the six-speed automatic’s manual-shift function largely superfluous; just boot the throttle and you’re away, and if you keep your foot planted you’ll be rewarded by a nice double-pop from the exhaust as the transmission upshifts. Vanderhall claims a 0-60 time of 4.5 seconds, which seems overly optimistic to me, but there’s no question this thing is quick. And loud. And risky. And wonderful.
The irony here is that as much as I loved the Vanderhall, if you ask me to expound on it, I can do nothing but complain. The driving position is terrible. The adjustable steering column doesn’t move far enough out or up to put the wheel where it needs to be. The brake pedal sits way higher than the accelerator, which makes the touchy brakes feel all the more abrupt.
You cannot open the hood without a tool kit, and you can’t carry a tool kit because you can’t fold the seats forward to access the vestigial cargo compartment (they do slide backwards and forwards, however). You can strap one or maybe two grocery bags into the passenger seat, but forget about storing cargo on the floor; it’s flat (thank you, front-wheel-drive), so anything on the passenger’s side can easily roll to the driver’s side and get jammed under the pedals.
The loud and nearly constant wheezing and whooshing from the turbocharger and its blow-off valve reminded me of the air brakes on an old GM city bus I used to own. And you know what else reminded me of the bus? The Vanderhall’s turning circle. U-turns require three lanes and a call to the harbormaster, and I couldn’t tell you the number of times I turned into a parking spot just a tad too late and had to back-and-fill to make it. (Actually, I could tell you the number of times—four—but I don’t want to.)
The ergonomics are terrible. The tiny circular mirrors are as close to useless as it is possible to be without venturing into actual uselessness. Overall, the car feels like it was built in a garden shed by someone who was impatient to finish and slightly hung over.
And to top it all off, Vanderhalls are ridiculously expensive. The single-seat Speedster lists for $27,925 (including destination charge; there’s also a prep fee that varies from dealer to dealer), plus options. The version we tested, the Venice, starts three grand higher. If you’re aching for a more thorough evacuation of your wallet, you can get the $50,925 Laguna model with A/C, paddle shifters, adjustable suspension, and a carbon-fiber body with removable roof. If you’re a regular reader of this site, I don’t have to tell you how much Miata—or, in the case of the Laguna, how many Miatas—you can get for that kind of money.
When I posted a pic of the Venice on Facebook, a fellow writer messaged me: “You’re driving a Vanderhall? That thing is terrible.”
“I know,” I wrote back. “I love it.”
Because for all its flaws—hell, maybe because of its flaws—I think the Vanderhall is brilliant. It’s quick to go, quicker to stop, and good fun to fling around the turns (supposedly giving in to benign understeer if you push it hard, but I didn’t dare). It’s cool to look at and comfortable enough to drive all day. I can even forgive its automatic transmission. Sure, real cars have manuals—but this isn’t a real car, is it?
Besides, is there any finer felicity than looking over your left shoulder to check for traffic and seeing nothing but the world beyond? The Vanderhall gives you all the joys of a motorcycle without the danger of falling over and looking like a dolt.
For the record, opinion among my Automobile colleagues is split. Senior editor Kirill Ougarov loves it as much as I do, possibly more. Online editor Ed Tahaney thinks it’s stupid but fun. News editor Conner Golden thinks I’m being overly enthusiastic, and senior editor Nelson Ireson thinks I’ve lost touch with reality. (He also requested I work the word “Vanderhair” into my review to describe the state of one’s coiffure after driving it. Done.)
In a way, buying a Vanderhall is a bit like taking up smoking. It’s addictive, it’s hazardous, it destroys your senses (hearing rather than smell), and long-term use will probably kill you. It’s awful and it’s dangerous—but unlike smoking cigarettes, driving a Vanderhall is absolutely fantastic. If these start turning up cheap on the used market, I might well buy one.
2018 Vanderhall Venice Specifications
ON SALE Now PRICE $27,925/$35,129 (base/as tested) ENGINE 1.4L turbocharged DOHC 16-valve I-4/200 hp, 200 lb-ft TRANSMISSION 6-speed automatic LAYOUT 0-door, 2-passenger, front-engine, FWD autocycle EPA MILEAGE 24/32 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 145.2 x 68.9 x 48.8 in WHEELBASE 100.4 in WEIGHT 1,475 lb 0-60 MPH 4.5 sec TOP SPEED 130 mph
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