#vintage automoble

[obsidian-sphere]

Magazine ad for the 1937 Lincoln, featuring the Le Baron Convertible Sedan.

[cadillacsgalore]

1975 Cadillac Eldorado Convertible and De Ville Six-Window Sedan Ad. Time Magazine, September 23rd 1974. A 1931 Cadillac is shown in the upper left corner. Heikki Siponen from “Car Brochures & Adverts” group on Facebook.

[savagenewcanaan]

Savage New Canaan Pontiac Cars to the Satisfied Hunting Ground

Pontiac, Michigan, named for an American Indian chief, turned out its very first automobile in 1900 at the Pontiac Spring and also Wagon Functions. Gotten by General Motors, the progressively preferred brand name was upgraded and also provided at the New York Vehicle Show in 1926 with its now famous Indian Head Logo.

 Pontiac Cars have shown up as well as audible on the nation's roads and also bridges given that the beginning of the 20th century, burrowing the Chief's head with automobile traffic and American history.

 Growing up in Michigan, I remember distinctive stages of Pontiac growth, yet the symbol head hood ornament constantly drew me as by some mystical pressure - a minimum of to a young creativity interested in indian culture.

Savage New Canaan

 Pontiac's track record as a performance brand name began the late 1950s. Developed with bigger bodies and wheels thrusted out to match, the "Wide-track" gave Pontiacs a determined cornering advantage over other autos, and ended up being a big marketing point. However, the public's recognition of Pontiac as a high-performance brand name was embeded in 1964 with the production of the Pontiac's Grandmother Turismo Omologato. Swiftly abbreviated to GTO, the design is credited with pioneering a brand-new class of American automoble, The Muscular tissue Auto.

 The dueling "Muscular tissue Cars" of the '60s (equally as I was getting my vehicle drivers license) as well as the roaring and also shades in the streets were timed completely for the cultural transformation, James Bond, and a brand-new Rock and Roll. Names like Road Runner, Hemi, Barracuda, Firebird, 442, 426 and also others were shedding rubber coast to shore together with the celebration. Pontiac was initially an inexpensive choice in GM's brand name pecking order, as well as a middle-class mainstay. However, Pontiac's "road warriors" of the '60s and also '70s include some of America's finest vintage cars. There was nothing more incredibly improved, on the streets, than the GTO.

Michael Savage 1800Accountant

 The 1970s were disastrous for American automakers as oil cartels developed, increased gas costs as well as sent the consuming public flooding Japan as well as various other Asian countries for smaller sized, less costly much more gas efficient vehicles. The golden age of muscular tissue autos was over as GM moved emphasis to an array of econo-cars which all stopped working to connect with customers. Well, if you're mosting likely to put someone in a beer can for 30k, the car must have an intriguing design at the very least. Pontiac's Swan Song gained the distinction of being rated one of the ugliest styles ever before with the pyramidal tilted Aztek crossover automobile.

[retrofair]

1950 Standard Vanguard

via Retrofair Vintage Ads & Prints

[sleepwalkers-union]

1957 Chevrolet Bel Air. Arcadia FL. 

[anthonycalascione]

Howard’s quarter-century on the Copperstate

(Editor’s note: During the month of April, the Journal presents a series of stories about vintage rallies and vintage racing. Today, Howard Koby looks back at his years covering the Copperstate 1000 vintage sports car rally for this publication and others. If you have a story about your participation in a vintage rally or race that you’d like to share, please email us at journal@classiccars.com.)

About 25 years ago, I happened to be in Phoenix and was heading to the Phoenix Art Museum when I stumbled upon a closed-off downtown street with an array of beautiful vintage and classic cars.  They were lined up for what looked like the start of a road rally. 

Being a full-blown “car geek” and automotive photojournalist, I had my trusty battery of Nikon (film!) cameras in my car. I hurried back to get the tools of my trade, then rushed back to the action.

“What’s going on?” I asked. 

Copperstate cars rally through the tall pines near Flagstaff in northern Arizona

The answer was the Copperstate 1000 Road Rally. Instinctively, I started taking photographs.

The Copperstate 1000 takes place in April and puts a group of passionate car enthusiasts and their pre-1973 vintage sports and grand touring cars on a thousand-mile adventure through the Arizona desert and, at higher elevations,  pine forests. 

After making contact with the organizers, the Men’s Art Council of the Phoenix Art Museum, I hit the road on my first Mercedes-Benz (the title sponsor at the time) Copperstate 1000 in 1997, on assignment for the late Mike Cook, editor of the Jaguar Journal (club magazine). 

I was pleased to learn that the rally served as a fundraiser for the Phoenix Art Museum and the 10-90 Copperstate Foundation, which provides emergency benefits to families and dependents of officers injured or killed in the line of duty.

Every year as a safety measure, a handpicked group of Arizona DPS motorcycle officers provides an escort, riding ahead of and behind the rally cars. 

‘Field of Dreams’ at Tempe Diablo Stadium

Usually, there are about 80 to 90 rolling automotive works of art on the Copperstate that engage with the beautiful scenery after blasting off from the Phoenix area. In recent years, at least until the pandemic, the starting point has been Temple Diablo Stadium, spring training for the Los Angeles Angels baseball team, which is turned into a “Field of Dreams” car show. 

Rallies need routes and as the Copperstate route book once noted, “Trust in Motherhood, Apple Pie and your Route Book.” The book not only guides the Copperstaters but each year introduces them to a different and challenging route.  

One year it might lead them to the northern part of the state, starting up the Beeline Highway toward Payson and beyond, or it might take them through Prescott, or to historic Route 66 in Kingman and on to Oatman, where Clark Gable and Carole Lombard spent their “honeymoon” at the Oatman Hotel in 1939. 

Sedona, The Grand Canyon and Monument Valley, even visits into Utah and Nevada, have provided spectacular scenic runs that left me breathless. 

Southern routes take the cars through the grassy ranch lands of Patagonia, Nogales (at the Mexican border), into the unmatched beauty and serenity of the Saguaro National Park, and Tucson, known as the Old Pueblo.

Barry Meguiar fills the 1932 Duesenberg from the Imperial Palace collection

The late Leon Mandel, who was publisher of AutoWeek magazine, participated in many Copperstate rallies and referred to this “Orgy of automobility as the ‘Great American Car Revival,’ where participants share a belief that no time could be better spent than in an interesting car on a mean road in the company of like-minded people.” 

For many years, the event honored a Grand Marshal, including the likes of Bobby Rahal, Brian Redman, Phil Hill, who drove his 1930 Pierce-Arrow Cab in 1996. Also, Lyn St. James, Stirling Moss, Bob Bondurant and Barry Meguiar, who arrived with Richie Clyne in a 1932 Judkins-bodied Duesenberg coupe from the Imperial Palace Auto Collection in Las Vegas.

Meguiar and Clyne had their hands full piloting the 6,000-pound machine, working its vintage brakes while descending from 9,000-foot elevations. 

“We used everything… brakes, gears, parking brake to keep from losing it.” Meguiar said. “But we had a great time and a good workout!”

In 2003, I covered the Copperstate (Bondurant was Grand Marshal) for the old Car Collector Magazine and landed the cover with Randy Reiss’ fabulous fly-yellow 1962 Ferrari 250GT Berlinetta SWB. This late-series steel-bodied Prancing Horse with a booming V12 engine, Borrani wire wheels and outside Monza filler cap was one of my all-time favorites, although not for riding shotgun with Reiss, who drove it at unmentionable speeds.

The Leventhals’ 1953 Ferrari 340 MM

As I reminisce about wonderful memories of the Copperstate, I am reminded that it is not a competitive rally but a lifestyle event and celebratory exploration of the Arizona outback with the exquisite scenery of the American Southwest. It’s like a field trip for grownups, with catered lunches delivered in the middle of the desert.

Another favorite vintage machine that has been on many Copperstates is Rick and Nancy Rome’s exciting 1955 Kurtis 500 Swallow Coupe that was originally prepared for racing by Mickey Thompson to run the La Carrera Panamericana in 1955 (only to have that event canceled). The car still maintains its original Lincoln 317cid “Y” block engine with front disc/rear drum brakes and torsion-bar suspension.

And of course, there’s Michael and Katharina Leventhal’s stupendous 1953 Ferrari 340MM Le Mans Spyder that has run the Copperstate several times. 

“It’s a beast with amazing torque and brute power,” Leventhal notes. “Visually, I just love to look at the car… it’s like moving art.”

Stephan Norman and his 1928 Bugatti in Las Vegas

In 2005, the tour stepped into Las Vegas, and I immediately thought of getting the provocative 1928 Bugatti Type 44 Roadster owned by Stephen Norman to downtown on Fremont Street for a photoshoot with all the glittering casino lights as a backdrop. Norman agreed and we roared off. 

When we arrived downtown, the “one-off” Bugatti caused quite a stir with 100s of tourists that had never seen such a car. “What kind of car is that?” bellowed out from the crowd.

My favorite route was the 2007 journey that included two scenic wonders — the Grand Canyon National Park in Arizona and Zion National Park in Utah. I’ll never forget, as our wagon train traveled through six climate zones from the Sonoran Desert up past the San Francisco Peaks and through the solitude of Navajo reservations and reaching the geologic beauty of Zion National Park, the sight of Jess and Eddie Marker as they came whizzing by in their ultra-light 1969 Lotus Type 14 Elite.

After 25 years attending the Copperstate, there are too many favorites to mention, so hopefully the selection of photos will speak for themselves.

Jess and Eddie Marker and their 1960 Lotus Type 14 Elite at Zion National Park

Rick and Nancy Rome and their 1972 Ferrari 356 GTB-4 Daytona

Harley and Colette Cluxton in their 1967 Ferrari 330 GTC

1971 Ferrai 365 GTS4 Spyder

Brent and Debbie Berge in their 1960 Aston Martin

1941 Packard at the Wigwam Motel on old Route 66

Bud and Lauri Florkiewica and their 1949 Alfa Romeo 6C 2500

1968 Ford Escort

1956 Chrysler 300B

AZ DPS officers make sure Copperstate contingent is safe along the route

1955 Kurtis 500 Panamericana

1965 Shelby Cobra 289

The post Howard’s quarter-century on the Copperstate appeared first on ClassicCars.com Journal.

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[privateplates4u]

Exclusive First Look: Infiniti Prototype 9

Imagine it’s 1936 and you’re a Japanese engineer with a passion for sleek aircraft and fast automobiles. Imagine you’ve just seen, for the very first time, a low-slung Mercedes-Benz W25 grand prix racer, one of the original Silver Arrows. And then imagine what you’d want to do next. Infiniti has turned that thought experiment into reality with the intriguing Prototype 9. On the surface, the Infiniti Prototype 9 seems little more than a whimsical what if, a designer’s doodle made into metal, maybe even a brazen attempt to build a creation legend for an automaker that didn’t even exist until a half a century after the era that defines its form. But like a samurai sword, the Prototype 9 is an object made up of hidden layers, wrapped in meaning. From certain angles the Prototype 9 looks like a simple mashup: vintage Mercedes-Benz racer meets Infiniti design cues. All the Infiniti identity is at the front—the double-arch grille, the shark gills aft of the front wheels, the single crease hood, and the pronounced bone lines running back to the cockpit— and it’s all executed in the 1930s idiom. Improbable as that might sound, it works, though a real racer would have eschewed the chrome trim and that Infiniti logo standing proud on the hood. The gorgeously tapered tail, made from hand-beaten aluminum, and the wonderful 19-inch wire wheels are generic race car forms from the ’30s and ’40s, the sort of thing you also see on a Talbot-Lago or a Maserati. The color is what makes the synapses snap Silver Arrow when you first see the Prototype 9 from the side or the rear. Imagine it in traditional Japanese F1 racing livery—painted white with red roundels—and the Prototype 9 becomes much more its own car. (Of course, Japan wasn’t given national racing colors until the 1960s, but, hey, this is a thought experiment.) The Prototype 9 project began with a message from Infiniti’s U.S. marketing team to design chief Alfonso Albaisa. It was based on a discussion point from an internal brand meeting held Stateside, which went something like this: Imagine you are somewhere in the Japan countryside and came across a car, sheltered in a barn, hidden away for decades. Not only is it a race car, but it is also an Infiniti. What would that car look like? Could it be connected to the Infiniti production cars of today? “Our expectation was that Alfonso and his team would just do a sketch for us,” says Infiniti Americas communications director Kyle Bazemore. “Or maybe, at a stretch, a CG video. And perhaps, if we were extremely lucky, a clay model.” No one, least of all Albaisa, expected it to turn into a real car. The Prototype 9 evolved into a skunkworks project as Albaisa’s fellow designers at Infiniti’s Atsugi studio in Japan began contributing ideas. Then, when managers at Nissan’s factory in Oppama saw a model of the car, they decided they wanted to turn it into real thing. “I was a little surprised,” Albaisa admits, “but it turns out they still train people in all the traditional car-building arts. They thought this was the perfect project, and they decided—on their own—to follow the design story as if [it were] real.” A team of takumi—Nissan’s master craftspeople—assembled to lead the build. Nissan’s advanced engineering team learned about the project and volunteered to help, as did Nissan’s specialty vehicle division, Autech. “Suddenly we had three of our largest departments working on it,” Albaisa says. And this is where the Prototype 9 gets interesting. Underneath that retro skin is an electric motor powertrain closely related to the one that will power the next-generation Nissan Leaf. Developed and tweaked by Nissan Advanced Powertrain, the rear-mounted motor makes 148 hp and 236 lb-ft and drives the rear wheels. That’s grunt enough, Infiniti says, to propel the 1,962-pound Prototype 9 to 60 mph in less than 5.5 seconds. Top speed is limited to 105 mph, down from a theoretical maximum of more than 130 mph. The 30-kW-hr battery pack stacked ahead of the driver should, Infiniti claims, allow for about 20 minutes of hard track driving. Those performance numbers might not sound impressive in the context of a Tesla P100D, but look again at the Prototype 9. Look, specifically, at the leading-arm solid front axle and De Dion rear axle, both suspended by transverse leaf springs, and those tall, vintage-section cross-ply tires. Now imagine what it would be like hustling this thing through a 100-mph sweeper or powering it out of a tight hairpin on that skinny rubber. This is one electric car that promises to be anything but boring to drive. The juxtaposition of old and new is everywhere, both in terms of the Prototype 9’s hardware and the way in which it has been constructed. What look like old-school drum brakes behind the wire wheels are in fact housings around modern discs. The rotational dampers on the axles are conceptually similar to the friction shocks used in the 1930s, but they are electrically controlled. The steering is an unassisted recirculating ball system. The grid over which the aluminum tail cone was hand-formed is made of laser-cut steel. The one-piece hood was made using a process called dieless forming, using two seven-axis robots to shape the metal instead of two old-school metalworkers. For Infiniti, making the Prototype 9 turned to be more than an intricate team-building exercise. It offered a mass producer of automobiles unique insights into the art of handcrafting one, and it has sown the seed of a fascinating idea: As mass-market automobility becomes the preserve of self-driving autonomous vehicles, could there be a market for what could best be described as “passion cars,” vehicles that have absolutely nothing to do with transportation and everything to do with the art and fun of driving? “That’s one of the branches of this,” Albaisa says. “The more our life becomes easier, the more our time to dream becomes richer. Why wouldn’t we make a hundred of them? Why wouldn’t we make a thousand?” Ironically, an EV powertrain—simple, compact, and the bête noir of automotive enthusiasts who believe their passion can only be powered by an internal combustion engine—actually makes building whimsical passion cars such as the Prototype 9 a lot more feasible. Creating an electric-powered driver’s car with retro styling, an antique suspension, and vintage tires might seem incongruous for a 21st-century automaker that’s not yet 30 years old. But that’s the whole point of the Prototype 9, Albaisa says, pointing out that technology won’t always stir the soul when it comes to automobiles. “We always dream about the future, but this time we dreamed about the past.”The post Exclusive First Look: Infiniti Prototype 9 appeared first on Motor Trend.

http://www.motortrend.com/news/infiniti-prototype-9-exclusive-first-look/

[robertkstone]

Exclusive First Look: Infiniti Prototype 9

Imagine it’s 1936 and you’re a Japanese engineer with a passion for sleek aircraft and fast automobiles. Imagine you’ve just seen, for the very first time, a low-slung Mercedes-Benz W25 grand prix racer, one of the original Silver Arrows. And then imagine what you’d want to do next. Infiniti has turned that thought experiment into reality with the intriguing Prototype 9.

On the surface, the Infiniti Prototype 9 seems little more than a whimsical what if, a designer’s doodle made into metal, maybe even a brazen attempt to build a creation legend for an automaker that didn’t even exist until a half a century after the era that defines its form. But like a samurai sword, the Prototype 9 is an object made up of hidden layers, wrapped in meaning.

From certain angles the Prototype 9 looks like a simple mashup: vintage Mercedes-Benz racer meets Infiniti design cues. All the Infiniti identity is at the front—the double-arch grille, the shark gills aft of the front wheels, the single crease hood, and the pronounced bone lines running back to the cockpit— and it’s all executed in the 1930s idiom. Improbable as that might sound, it works, though a real racer would have eschewed the chrome trim and that Infiniti logo standing proud on the hood.

The gorgeously tapered tail, made from hand-beaten aluminum, and the wonderful 19-inch wire wheels are generic race car forms from the ’30s and ’40s, the sort of thing you also see on a Talbot-Lago or a Maserati. The color is what makes the synapses snap Silver Arrow when you first see the Prototype 9 from the side or the rear. Imagine it in traditional Japanese F1 racing livery—painted white with red roundels—and the Prototype 9 becomes much more its own car. (Of course, Japan wasn’t given national racing colors until the 1960s, but, hey, this is a thought experiment.)

The Prototype 9 project began with a message from Infiniti’s U.S. marketing team to design chief Alfonso Albaisa. It was based on a discussion point from an internal brand meeting held Stateside, which went something like this: Imagine you are somewhere in the Japan countryside and came across a car, sheltered in a barn, hidden away for decades. Not only is it a race car, but it is also an Infiniti. What would that car look like? Could it be connected to the Infiniti production cars of today? “Our expectation was that Alfonso and his team would just do a sketch for us,” says Infiniti Americas communications director Kyle Bazemore. “Or maybe, at a stretch, a CG video. And perhaps, if we were extremely lucky, a clay model.”

No one, least of all Albaisa, expected it to turn into a real car.

The Prototype 9 evolved into a skunkworks project as Albaisa’s fellow designers at Infiniti’s Atsugi studio in Japan began contributing ideas. Then, when managers at Nissan’s factory in Oppama saw a model of the car, they decided they wanted to turn it into real thing. “I was a little surprised,” Albaisa admits, “but it turns out they still train people in all the traditional car-building arts. They thought this was the perfect project, and they decided—on their own—to follow the design story as if [it were] real.” A team of takumi—Nissan’s master craftspeople—assembled to lead the build. Nissan’s advanced engineering team learned about the project and volunteered to help, as did Nissan’s specialty vehicle division, Autech. “Suddenly we had three of our largest departments working on it,” Albaisa says.

And this is where the Prototype 9 gets interesting.

Underneath that retro skin is an electric motor powertrain closely related to the one that will power the next-generation Nissan Leaf. Developed and tweaked by Nissan Advanced Powertrain, the rear-mounted motor makes 148 hp and 236 lb-ft and drives the rear wheels. That’s grunt enough, Infiniti says, to propel the 1,962-pound Prototype 9 to 60 mph in less than 5.5 seconds. Top speed is limited to 105 mph, down from a theoretical maximum of more than 130 mph. The 30-kW-hr battery pack stacked ahead of the driver should, Infiniti claims, allow for about 20 minutes of hard track driving.

Those performance numbers might not sound impressive in the context of a Tesla P100D, but look again at the Prototype 9. Look, specifically, at the leading-arm solid front axle and De Dion rear axle, both suspended by transverse leaf springs, and those tall, vintage-section cross-ply tires. Now imagine what it would be like hustling this thing through a 100-mph sweeper or powering it out of a tight hairpin on that skinny rubber. This is one electric car that promises to be anything but boring to drive.

The juxtaposition of old and new is everywhere, both in terms of the Prototype 9’s hardware and the way in which it has been constructed. What look like old-school drum brakes behind the wire wheels are in fact housings around modern discs. The rotational dampers on the axles are conceptually similar to the friction shocks used in the 1930s, but they are electrically controlled. The steering is an unassisted recirculating ball system. The grid over which the aluminum tail cone was hand-formed is made of laser-cut steel. The one-piece hood was made using a process called dieless forming, using two seven-axis robots to shape the metal instead of two old-school metalworkers.

For Infiniti, making the Prototype 9 turned to be more than an intricate team-building exercise. It offered a mass producer of automobiles unique insights into the art of handcrafting one, and it has sown the seed of a fascinating idea: As mass-market automobility becomes the preserve of self-driving autonomous vehicles, could there be a market for what could best be described as “passion cars,” vehicles that have absolutely nothing to do with transportation and everything to do with the art and fun of driving?

“That’s one of the branches of this,” Albaisa says. “The more our life becomes easier, the more our time to dream becomes richer. Why wouldn’t we make a hundred of them? Why wouldn’t we make a thousand?” Ironically, an EV powertrain—simple, compact, and the bête noir of automotive enthusiasts who believe their passion can only be powered by an internal combustion engine—actually makes building whimsical passion cars such as the Prototype 9 a lot more feasible.

Creating an electric-powered driver’s car with retro styling, an antique suspension, and vintage tires might seem incongruous for a 21st-century automaker that’s not yet 30 years old. But that’s the whole point of the Prototype 9, Albaisa says, pointing out that technology won’t always stir the soul when it comes to automobiles. “We always dream about the future, but this time we dreamed about the past.”

The post Exclusive First Look: Infiniti Prototype 9 appeared first on Motor Trend.

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[jesusvasser]

Exclusive First Look: Infiniti Prototype 9

Imagine it’s 1936 and you’re a Japanese engineer with a passion for sleek aircraft and fast automobiles. Imagine you’ve just seen, for the very first time, a low-slung Mercedes-Benz W25 grand prix racer, one of the original Silver Arrows. And then imagine what you’d want to do next. Infiniti has turned that thought experiment into reality with the intriguing Prototype 9.

On the surface, the Infiniti Prototype 9 seems little more than a whimsical what if, a designer’s doodle made into metal, maybe even a brazen attempt to build a creation legend for an automaker that didn’t even exist until a half a century after the era that defines its form. But like a samurai sword, the Prototype 9 is an object made up of hidden layers, wrapped in meaning.

From certain angles the Prototype 9 looks like a simple mashup: vintage Mercedes-Benz racer meets Infiniti design cues. All the Infiniti identity is at the front—the double-arch grille, the shark gills aft of the front wheels, the single crease hood, and the pronounced bone lines running back to the cockpit— and it’s all executed in the 1930s idiom. Improbable as that might sound, it works, though a real racer would have eschewed the chrome trim and that Infiniti logo standing proud on the hood.

The gorgeously tapered tail, made from hand-beaten aluminum, and the wonderful 19-inch wire wheels are generic race car forms from the ’30s and ’40s, the sort of thing you also see on a Talbot-Lago or a Maserati. The color is what makes the synapses snap Silver Arrow when you first see the Prototype 9 from the side or the rear. Imagine it in traditional Japanese F1 racing livery—painted white with red roundels—and the Prototype 9 becomes much more its own car. (Of course, Japan wasn’t given national racing colors until the 1960s, but, hey, this is a thought experiment.)

The Prototype 9 project began with a message from Infiniti’s U.S. marketing team to design chief Alfonso Albaisa. It was based on a discussion point from an internal brand meeting held Stateside, which went something like this: Imagine you are somewhere in the Japan countryside and came across a car, sheltered in a barn, hidden away for decades. Not only is it a race car, but it is also an Infiniti. What would that car look like? Could it be connected to the Infiniti production cars of today? “Our expectation was that Alfonso and his team would just do a sketch for us,” says Infiniti Americas communications director Kyle Bazemore. “Or maybe, at a stretch, a CG video. And perhaps, if we were extremely lucky, a clay model.”

No one, least of all Albaisa, expected it to turn into a real car.

The Prototype 9 evolved into a skunkworks project as Albaisa’s fellow designers at Infiniti’s Atsugi studio in Japan began contributing ideas. Then, when managers at Nissan’s factory in Oppama saw a model of the car, they decided they wanted to turn it into real thing. “I was a little surprised,” Albaisa admits, “but it turns out they still train people in all the traditional car-building arts. They thought this was the perfect project, and they decided—on their own—to follow the design story as if [it were] real.” A team of takumi—Nissan’s master craftspeople—assembled to lead the build. Nissan’s advanced engineering team learned about the project and volunteered to help, as did Nissan’s specialty vehicle division, Autech. “Suddenly we had three of our largest departments working on it,” Albaisa says.

And this is where the Prototype 9 gets interesting.

Underneath that retro skin is an electric motor powertrain closely related to the one that will power the next-generation Nissan Leaf. Developed and tweaked by Nissan Advanced Powertrain, the rear-mounted motor makes 148 hp and 236 lb-ft and drives the rear wheels. That’s grunt enough, Infiniti says, to propel the 1,962-pound Prototype 9 to 60 mph in less than 5.5 seconds. Top speed is limited to 105 mph, down from a theoretical maximum of more than 130 mph. The 30-kW-hr battery pack stacked ahead of the driver should, Infiniti claims, allow for about 20 minutes of hard track driving.

Those performance numbers might not sound impressive in the context of a Tesla P100D, but look again at the Prototype 9. Look, specifically, at the leading-arm solid front axle and De Dion rear axle, both suspended by transverse leaf springs, and those tall, vintage-section cross-ply tires. Now imagine what it would be like hustling this thing through a 100-mph sweeper or powering it out of a tight hairpin on that skinny rubber. This is one electric car that promises to be anything but boring to drive.

The juxtaposition of old and new is everywhere, both in terms of the Prototype 9’s hardware and the way in which it has been constructed. What look like old-school drum brakes behind the wire wheels are in fact housings around modern discs. The rotational dampers on the axles are conceptually similar to the friction shocks used in the 1930s, but they are electrically controlled. The steering is an unassisted recirculating ball system. The grid over which the aluminum tail cone was hand-formed is made of laser-cut steel. The one-piece hood was made using a process called dieless forming, using two seven-axis robots to shape the metal instead of two old-school metalworkers.

For Infiniti, making the Prototype 9 turned to be more than an intricate team-building exercise. It offered a mass producer of automobiles unique insights into the art of handcrafting one, and it has sown the seed of a fascinating idea: As mass-market automobility becomes the preserve of self-driving autonomous vehicles, could there be a market for what could best be described as “passion cars,” vehicles that have absolutely nothing to do with transportation and everything to do with the art and fun of driving?

“That’s one of the branches of this,” Albaisa says. “The more our life becomes easier, the more our time to dream becomes richer. Why wouldn’t we make a hundred of them? Why wouldn’t we make a thousand?” Ironically, an EV powertrain—simple, compact, and the bête noir of automotive enthusiasts who believe their passion can only be powered by an internal combustion engine—actually makes building whimsical passion cars such as the Prototype 9 a lot more feasible.

Creating an electric-powered driver’s car with retro styling, an antique suspension, and vintage tires might seem incongruous for a 21st-century automaker that’s not yet 30 years old. But that’s the whole point of the Prototype 9, Albaisa says, pointing out that technology won’t always stir the soul when it comes to automobiles. “We always dream about the future, but this time we dreamed about the past.”

The post Exclusive First Look: Infiniti Prototype 9 appeared first on Motor Trend.

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[cadillacsgalore]

1968 Cadillac Coupe de Ville

[sleepwalkers-union]

Sunday tea. Arcadia FL.

[robertkstone]

Exclusive First Look: Infiniti Prototype 9

Imagine it’s 1936 and you’re a Japanese engineer with a passion for sleek aircraft and fast automobiles. Imagine you’ve just seen, for the very first time, a low-slung Mercedes-Benz W25 grand prix racer, one of the original Silver Arrows. And then imagine what you’d want to do next. Infiniti has turned that thought experiment into reality with the intriguing Prototype 9.

On the surface, the Infiniti Prototype 9 seems little more than a whimsical what if, a designer’s doodle made into metal, maybe even a brazen attempt to build a creation legend for an automaker that didn’t even exist until a half a century after the era that defines its form. But like a samurai sword, the Prototype 9 is an object made up of hidden layers, wrapped in meaning.

From certain angles the Prototype 9 looks like a simple mashup: vintage Mercedes-Benz racer meets Infiniti design cues. All the Infiniti identity is at the front—the double-arch grille, the shark gills aft of the front wheels, the single crease hood, and the pronounced bone lines running back to the cockpit— and it’s all executed in the 1930s idiom. Improbable as that might sound, it works, though a real racer would have eschewed the chrome trim and that Infiniti logo standing proud on the hood.

The gorgeously tapered tail, made from hand-beaten aluminum, and the wonderful 19-inch wire wheels are generic race car forms from the ’30s and ’40s, the sort of thing you also see on a Talbot-Lago or a Maserati. The color is what makes the synapses snap Silver Arrow when you first see the Prototype 9 from the side or the rear. Imagine it in traditional Japanese F1 racing livery—painted white with red roundels—and the Prototype 9 becomes much more its own car. (Of course, Japan wasn’t given national racing colors until the 1960s, but, hey, this is a thought experiment.)

The Prototype 9 project began with a message from Infiniti’s U.S. marketing team to design chief Alfonso Albaisa. It was based on a discussion point from an internal brand meeting held Stateside, which went something like this: Imagine you are somewhere in the Japan countryside and came across a car, sheltered in a barn, hidden away for decades. Not only is it a race car, but it is also an Infiniti. What would that car look like? Could it be connected to the Infiniti production cars of today? “Our expectation was that Alfonso and his team would just do a sketch for us,” says Infiniti Americas communications director Kyle Bazemore. “Or maybe, at a stretch, a CG video. And perhaps, if we were extremely lucky, a clay model.”

No one, least of all Albaisa, expected it to turn into a real car.

The Prototype 9 evolved into a skunkworks project as Albaisa’s fellow designers at Infiniti’s Atsugi studio in Japan began contributing ideas. Then, when managers at Nissan’s factory in Oppama saw a model of the car, they decided they wanted to turn it into real thing. “I was a little surprised,” Albaisa admits, “but it turns out they still train people in all the traditional car-building arts. They thought this was the perfect project, and they decided—on their own—to follow the design story as if [it were] real.” A team of takumi—Nissan’s master craftspeople—assembled to lead the build. Nissan’s advanced engineering team learned about the project and volunteered to help, as did Nissan’s specialty vehicle division, Autech. “Suddenly we had three of our largest departments working on it,” Albaisa says.

And this is where the Prototype 9 gets interesting.

Underneath that retro skin is an electric motor powertrain closely related to the one that will power the next-generation Nissan Leaf. Developed and tweaked by Nissan Advanced Powertrain, the rear-mounted motor makes 148 hp and 236 lb-ft and drives the rear wheels. That’s grunt enough, Infiniti says, to propel the 1,962-pound Prototype 9 to 60 mph in less than 5.5 seconds. Top speed is limited to 105 mph, down from a theoretical maximum of more than 130 mph. The 30-kW-hr battery pack stacked ahead of the driver should, Infiniti claims, allow for about 20 minutes of hard track driving.

Those performance numbers might not sound impressive in the context of a Tesla P100D, but look again at the Prototype 9. Look, specifically, at the leading-arm solid front axle and De Dion rear axle, both suspended by transverse leaf springs, and those tall, vintage-section cross-ply tires. Now imagine what it would be like hustling this thing through a 100-mph sweeper or powering it out of a tight hairpin on that skinny rubber. This is one electric car that promises to be anything but boring to drive.

The juxtaposition of old and new is everywhere, both in terms of the Prototype 9’s hardware and the way in which it has been constructed. What look like old-school drum brakes behind the wire wheels are in fact housings around modern discs. The rotational dampers on the axles are conceptually similar to the friction shocks used in the 1930s, but they are electrically controlled. The steering is an unassisted recirculating ball system. The grid over which the aluminum tail cone was hand-formed is made of laser-cut steel. The one-piece hood was made using a process called dieless forming, using two seven-axis robots to shape the metal instead of two old-school metalworkers.

For Infiniti, making the Prototype 9 turned to be more than an intricate team-building exercise. It offered a mass producer of automobiles unique insights into the art of handcrafting one, and it has sown the seed of a fascinating idea: As mass-market automobility becomes the preserve of self-driving autonomous vehicles, could there be a market for what could best be described as “passion cars,” vehicles that have absolutely nothing to do with transportation and everything to do with the art and fun of driving?

“That’s one of the branches of this,” Albaisa says. “The more our life becomes easier, the more our time to dream becomes richer. Why wouldn’t we make a hundred of them? Why wouldn’t we make a thousand?” Ironically, an EV powertrain—simple, compact, and the bête noir of automotive enthusiasts who believe their passion can only be powered by an internal combustion engine—actually makes building whimsical passion cars such as the Prototype 9 a lot more feasible.

Creating an electric-powered driver’s car with retro styling, an antique suspension, and vintage tires might seem incongruous for a 21st-century automaker that’s not yet 30 years old. But that’s the whole point of the Prototype 9, Albaisa says, pointing out that technology won’t always stir the soul when it comes to automobiles. “We always dream about the future, but this time we dreamed about the past.”

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