The Gods of Instant Gratification and Disposable Self-Esteem can give themselves a well-deserved pat on the back for the creation of the '01 Audi S4 Avant and the 2000 Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution VI;perhaps two of the finest specimens of mood-altering cars available today.
This quasi-automobile magazine finds its greatest rewards in the perks, such as driving cool test vehicles, and traveling where stone-cold-fox show models storm your hotel room at all hours of the night (OK, that one's not true, but I can dream). These are the perks of an otherwise mundane professional existence, and they keep those well-conceived plans of joining the foreign legion on the back burner.
Clearly, there is little coaxing that needs to be done on the part of the manufac- turer to get us to sit behind the wheel of certain machines. Sometimes we can be so persistent in our efforts to secure a press car that there is talk of restraining orders and harassment charges, but cleverly switching names and IDs usually confuses the authorities. Super Street's collective unconscious then retires to our "war room" where we brainstorm a design for a useful magazine story, in between Rich's interjections about how he should get his own show on the WB.
Regarding the S4 Avant and the Evo VI, it became apparent that our only recourse was to come clean. There is no relevant comparison with these two vehicles, we just wanted to drive them because some of us drive such miserable vehicles in real-life that the chance to be Walter Mitty for a week proved irresistible. The Evo VI has never been available in the States, and a station wagon on steroids like the S4 Avant is probably the last car a typical Super Street reader would consider owning.
A Bi-Turbo Menace
As soon as the S4 Avant arrived, suddenly all plans were changed, lunch locations were altered, and original lunch partners were ditched for far sexier ones. Why not? What better way to court the women you'll never have than to try to catch them off guard with the car you'll never own? An admittedly low-down tactic, but the car cannot help but make an impression.
The ladies and Italian-loafer wearing men will appreciate Audi's attention to detail, the S4's solid build, and the stylish suede interior that looks as if it were conceived by a cross-dressing German interior decorator-you know, tasteful. Drivers will be intoxicated by the S4's smooth, linear power, especially during real-world actions (like freeway passing) in which you are reminded that with just a flick of the toe, all others can be made into chumps. The Nagaro blue missile gets around with a swiftness and telepathic responsiveness unbecoming of a station wagon.
Perhaps the S4's greatest charm lies in the fact that so much performance is packed into a station wagon, a diabolical inside joke from a vehicle that will show its taillights to anyone foolish enough to tug on its cape. The ensuing obsession of driving this vehicle is to find that stretch of unclogged, twisty road and let that this quattro-driven bi-turboed menace roll up its sleeves and get busy mangling asphalt.
The S4's ESP program electronically engages and disengages the differentials for improved control, traction, and stability. A nice feature indeed, but we liked it a lot more when we realized it could be dis- engaged. Suddenly, the car could be pitched, drifting on all four wheels-completely controllable. The physics of the S4's girth and weight are really the only limitations that prevent the car's powerful motor from really getting its drivers into hot water. The multi-link suspension is devilishly effective at minimizing roll through slalom situations, with a smooth ride that won't numb a tailbone. The S4 and its awe-inspiring road competence and features (read: extra savory Bose stereo system) are probably the most fun you'll ever have in a station wagon that's not filled with drunken XFL cheerleaders.
The Evolution VI: High-Strung Horsepower
Three days into this personal week-long horsepower orgy, I was in no hurry to reacquaint myself with my '93 dog-hair upholstered Tercel that smells like the backside of a toilet at a Chinese restaurant. I only admit that the vehicle is mine when towing is a threat (and it costs me more money than it's worth to retrieve). The good folks at Mitsubishi saw fit to bless us with the gem of their press fleet, a genuine Lancer Evolution VI, a real-life, limited production homologation race special. Admittedly, this car had already seen quite a bit of action, but even after 19K ruthlessly driven press miles, the car still leaves drivers grinning like a fat kid trapped in the Wonka factory. Whereas the S4 just impresses with its satisfying smooth application of power (thanks to displacement and two turbos), the Evo's high-strung power kicks-in like an angry bouncer's steel-toed boot to the back of the head. By the time you regain consciousness and wipe the snot off your upper lip, the vehicle is approaching 100 mph.
Considering the absurd motor, the short gearing, and near magnetic adhesion levels afforded by Mitsubishi's four-wheel drive, it becomes apparent why it takes a well-endowed driver to fully exploit this car. Even stopping in the Evo induces pasty teary-eyed grins thanks to a massive ABS-assisted Brembo system that tests your resolve to brake late. The vehicle constantly forces the re-evaluation of one's relationship with the Creator, and as drivers get worked up into a sweaty lather in the cockpit, the cries of "Sweet Jesus, Dear God," and "Mommy" can be heard.
Exiting the all-business cockpit after a heated session, drivers are drained, spent by the car's demanding strain on the attention, sweaty from the stress of going somewhere and doing things in a production car that they may never get to try again. The alluring quality of all-wheel-drive adhesion has the tendency to soften the top of a man's brain.
The Evo is a huge anti-depressant, sans the stony haze of valium, that makes one forget about all his/her troubles: the rent, the deadlines, the cheating spouse, the weak-bladdered dog, the cop you just sailed past at 110 mph. Therein lies the sad element to this silver "joy-maker," that its seductive performance will surely bring owners into harms way of real-world road rules and social responsibility.
Don't blame the car it's designed to race and only wants a strip of road or closed course to prove itself. Blame weak-kneed drivers and journalists who don't know when they've already gotten too much of a good thing.
The week came and went far too quickly. With it went the feeling of omnipotence the cars bestowed upon me. The Armani shirts and Persol sunglasses I purchased just seem so out of place in a '93 Tercel or a gangrene threatening rusted 510 (my other car). The memory of both vehicles memory etched an indelible scar on my psyche, if only to enlighten me to the danger of flirting with that which cannot be had.
If I were to come across a bucket load of dough (yeah, like after selling all my Star Wars figures), I wouldn't hesitate in plunking down the $43K for the Nagaro blue S4. It's wicked quick, civilized, built with typical Germanic quality, and far more useful for the real world than the Mitsubishi Evo VI, which seems hell bent on putting drivers behind bars. Sure, my time with these cars wasn't gonna last forever, but how does one go back to drinking soda after getting drunk on such fine wine. I guess it'll have to be boxed wine from now on.