I know what this looks like. You're looking at the publish date and thinking, "it's going to be a reflection of the year thing/ new year resolution type post", but it isn't. It's just me having to force myself to write something down and publish it, so I wouldn't have another gap in a December for this blog's history.
I feel like my feeling the need to make a piece of writing "good", to "flow", to "capture the reader's attention at first sentence", etc., is starting to bleed into my personal writing. Maybe I'm subconsciously trying to make some really fucking abstract point even I have no conscious idea of. Something, something, trying to get me to be interested in my own life and its goings-on. Trying to find appreciation, blahblah. Never feeling good enough and overcompensating, trying to reach out to hold someone's attention in dumb desperation, or just a sign that I'm starting to lose myself to "work", that some lines are starting to get blurred.
See, this is why I really dislike forcing myself to write, or do anything, because it just comes across as so confused, half hearted, and a complete fucking mess no one has any use for or understanding of. I don't know if anyone else feels this way. I don't know if I will ever find another piece of writing elsewhere that really explores feelings like this. Maybe I really am a weirdo. Maybe others do have these feelings, but aren't in the habit of writing. Maybe everything just has to be 140 characters or less and need an eye catching photo attached to it to gain any attention. I get this feeling I'd feel so alone, adrift, and clueless regardless. I'm so awful at expressing myself. Hell, I'm awful at making sense of what I feel to begin with. How can I expect anyone else to really understand me and offer any solace, any company? Maybe I'm an extraordinarily stupid person for not knowing how to deal with these feelings on my own as a grown ass adult. Maybe I'm just stupidly weak for letting these doubts cloud and cripple me. I just don't know what to do. I've nowhere really to be, but I'm lost nonetheless.
What is the meaning of any of this? Why am I just being kept alive? If suicide is so readily labelled selfish, why can't the love that keeps me imprisoned here just as readily be labelled selfish as well? I'm no longer actively thinking of and wishing for death, because I'm very, very slowly starting to not just realise, but appreciate how much I am loved by my family, the latter of which I feel I never had much of a sense for prior. The thought of killing myself disgusts me. But... at the same time, I don't feel I've much of a reason, or even a right, to be alive. To consume food. To incur a financial cost. To meet, and ask things of people. To exist completely detached from society, to be of absolutely no tangible use or benefit to anyone. To be unable to make anyone happy. To be quantifiably a good-for-nothing. A defect in the manufacturing line.
How true are those statements? Is it truly enough to simply be alive? Does just seeing me safe and sound, does just spending time with me doing simple things like chatting and being out for a meal, bring joy to my friends and family? Does it count if I've put no real conscious effort into it? Is it enough to just be alive in a prison? Why does it never feel enough? Why do I feel so... distant, detached, from people in general? Why does it feel like I've no hope of conversing with them, to match their wavelengths? Why does it feel like we're all speaking different languages by this point?
Are my life experiences invalid? Am I not allowed to feel the way that I do, or think the things that pervade my mind? Am I simply weak, or merely misunderstood? Am I exceptionally stupid, or uniquely perceptive? Why can I never come to the same answers as these "normal" people, who surround me, who live with me? Perhaps I do not have a right to be philosophical. Maybe there's no value in me questioning the way the world works. Perhaps mental healthcare is only reserved for the well to do. Maybe I really do need to pay someone just for them to really listen to me.
What do I want to do right now? I'm disinterested in everything. The thought of society sickens me. I hate myself so much I cannot fathom why anyone would want to be my friend. I don't want to live. I don't want to die. I don't want to think.
Is there any hope left for me? Is there any justification anyone can conjure up to help me, to spend resources on me? What sort of help do I think I want? What exactly is wrong with me? How do I cure myself if I don't even know what is wrong with me? Maybe I'm insane, or maybe I'm the only sane person I know. Maybe I'm sick. Maybe I've just been hurt. Maybe I've hit my head against a wall one time too many.
Does everyone have a right to live? Does everyone have a right to be happy? Is there value simply in the existence, or happiness, of someone? Why do you think that?
XSquare's Car of the Month Reviews: 2009 Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren
Symbiotic relationships seem to just come together naturally without a thought: a bee gathers nectar from a flower while helping the flowers reproduce, you buy a train ticket and it brings you where you want to go, etc.. When Mercedes announced at the 1999 North American International Auto Show that they were designing a supercar together with their then Formula 1 partner McLaren, everyone justifiably moistened their undergarments a little at the thought of a car that combined the seemingly boundless innovation, speed, sublime handling, and elite feel of a McLaren with the luxury, build quality, and stability Mercedes have always been known for. The attention commanding and downright salivating Vision SLR Concept made it to production largely intact as the "Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren", with "SLR" being a homage to Mercedes' dominant, but tragic, 300 SLR racecar. In both cases, the "SLR" stands for "Sport Leicht-Rennen", or "Sport Light-Racing", in English. With help from the wizards in Woking, the modern car tips the scales at a scant 1,768... wait, what? Is that in kilos? That would be 3,898 pounds!
Something has clearly gone terribly awry in what seemed like a straightforward symbiotic relationship between McLaren and Mercedes. The flower has attempted to gather honey from the bee, the train company has tried to pay you to move its carriages across the country, and the world has seemingly gone mad. What seemed so natural, such a foregone conclusion, has been turned onto its head: The powertrain is so Mercedes it hurts — a 5.4L V8 used in several other Mercedes models prior, including the likes of the G Wagen. In the SLR, it is supercharged so hard that there apparently was no other gearbox that Mercedes could get their hands on that could reliably handle the 616HP (459kW) and 780.5Nm (575.7ft-lb) of raw power, and no one else would help poor Mercedes design such a gearbox, so they were left with no other choice but to use their in-house five speed auto... on a 600k USD supercar in the 21st century. And to top it all off, instead of putting this entire colossus of contradiction together in Germany where quality is assured, the cars are assembled in Woking, which I can only assume means, "a shed". Gee, I sure hope McLaren aren't a very new mass production brand that will run into several QA issues and PR disasters within just ten years of making their second ever road car.
Truly, this is one of the most, if not the most misunderstood car ever put into production, because of how outwardly conflicted it is. Is it a luxury GT car? Is it a circuit weapon? And you will see that conflict and confusion everywhere in the SLR: massive power going through a 5 speed auto. Full carbon bodied car that somehow weighs nearly 1.8 tons. Thin carbon bucket seats set atop heavy, motorised rails. Brakes that are designed to catch fire. A car with ample boot space but spitefully little interior storage spaces. You get the idea. This is less a symbiotic relationship and more two roommates arguing who gets to draw the line in a shared bedroom. They say that he who tries to catch two rabbits will catch neither, but does that mean that the SLR is a good-for-nothing car?
Well, on the track, the first impression is that the car is shockingly balanced, despite appearances. There is very little pushing understeer on corner entry like one would expect of a front heavy car. This is because the entirety of the gargantuan 5.4L Supercharged V8 sits aft the front axle, creating a front-midship layout, creating a sense of balance that baffles each drive, especially with a constant reminder of how long the hood is as you stare at it continually from behind the wheel. Adding to this sense of bewilderment, the sheer heft of this javelin of a car is more than masked by the insanely capable carbon ceramic brakes fitted as standard on the SLR, which, in tandem with the flip up airbrake on the boot lid of the car, made stopping the car feel like stopping a Tsunami dead in its tracks every time I stomped on the brakes, and it boggles my mind every time. That is to say, in my one week with the SLR, it has never gotten old to me, and it has a way of astounding me anew each drive.
I said that the balance this car exhibits was shocking, because one would think that a car with the proportions that this has would be horrendously front biased in weight. According to Gran Turismo 6 however, the SLR has a weight distribution of 47:53 F/R, and this is achieved via a conscious effort to shift many weighty components as far back as possible to counterbalance the humongous engine and gearbox pairing up front. Some of these components, such as the onboard tools, battery, brake and washer fluids have been shifted to below the boot floor completely aft the rear axle. While Mercedes has tried to make the weight distribution close to a perfect 50:50, the car has a rather far out centre of gyration, with quite a concentration of mass overhanging both axles (the auto box contributing to the front). Because of this, the car is prone to swinging its rear out on corner entry if you're especially aggressive with your turn in under trail braking, and you need to properly baby the rear end to prevent sliding and losing pace. This also entails having to properly plan a line through successive corners, as the car does not handle abrupt corrective inputs very well. This makes the SLR a fantastic car at nine tenths, but make no mistake: this isn't a ten tenths car in the slightest, lest you fancy an aftermarket shade of brown to break up the sea of black to compensate for not speccing a red two tone interior like my peers in their silver cars have.
Although, I do quite like actually having pedals in my black car.
Although this sounds scary on paper, in practice, you have to really provoke the SLR to get it to act up. The car even gives ample, early, and progressive warnings before sliding, and because of the long wheelbase of the car, it is always just a quick flash of counter steer away from getting back onto the straight and narrow even if you choose to indulge, since there's always weight over the front tyres. Even when sliding, the car never once felt beyond my control or took me by surprise, and it is quite a lot of cheeky fun if you've sufficient runoff area to get something wrong.
You read that right: this near 1.8 ton car is fun to drive, and most of it I feel can be attributed to the suspension setup of this car, which is easily the highlight of my experience in the SLR, as I find it to be so well judged and capable. It is set up to cater to shockingly aggressive driving the likes of which no 600k GT car has any business being subject to, and when coupled with the SLR's near perfect weight distribution, made for very predictable and enjoyable spirited driving. Even when shod with uprated Sport Soft tyres for our weekly races, the SLR not only took the stickier rubber in stride without losing its balance, but felt downright happy to wear them. I do however wish that the rear end is set tighter all around as it's a just slight nuisance around a track for my personal preference; I'd like the rebound damping to be stiffer, I'd like more anti roll in the rear, and the differential especially I find is set way too loose, and one tyre fires are a common occurrence in the SLR with me behind the wheel. Because of the looser than preferable rear end, I find that the car severely dislikes sudden and tight chicanes, especially downhill ones. The slightly excessive roll means off neutral braking zones such as la Sarthe's Mulsanne and Bathurst's The Chase are a challenge to brake consistently for, and the rear brakes don't get to do much work either.
While I only have nitpicks about the suspension setup, the steering feel is... ahh... how do I put this politely...? "Quite rubbish," I think is the British way of saying it, especially for the speeds that this thing is capable of and the sheer mass of what you essentially hold in between your two palms. I think I have had more feedback letting wet noodles slip from a pair of disposable chopsticks than I've felt in the steering of the car, and it's not like the steering is numb because it's been overboosted, either; it's a proper workout to haul this thing around a track at racing pace, and I was sweating quite profusely after each race I did in this thing, and I doubt the December weather is to blame.
To spice things up ascertain how much racing pedigree and prowess the SLR has, I thought an on-track comparison test was in order. Being unable to source a Carrera GT for a comparison test and refusing to drive an Enzo even offered a loaner one for free, I decided to hop into something... a little unusual. Something that, considering the brands they come from, shouldn't share a shred of similarity with each other, yet I find are more alike than each would perhaps like to admit. I brought... a 2006 Dodge Viper.
Hear me out, okay? Both have ridonkulously big engines sat in a front long clamshell bonnet, sending absurd power to a short deck rear via very outdated gearboxes. Both are early 21st century cars. Both are base versions of their families. Both are coupé versions of cars offered as convertibles. I mean, hey, they both even have side exit exhausts! Of course, sitting in a Viper is like sitting in a detention room chair in comparison to the Mercedes, and the Viper costs... I don't know, less than a sixth of the SLR? Oh, and the Viper is 108 brake horsepower down from the SLR, but weighs a whopping 203kg (448lbs) lighter. You know you're dealing with something truly otherworldly when it makes a Viper of all things the nimbler, lighter weight, underpowered underdog in the comparison.
With the ghastly auto box in the SLR narrowing the power deficit, I at first thought that a track focused weapon like the Viper might be a bit too much to race against the SLR. Hoo boy, was I wrong. My fastest lap around Red Bull Ring in clear traffic was about a whole second off of Rick's 1:38 in racing conditions. While I was able to make up some ground in the braking zones and corners, it wasn't nearly enough to offset the acres of difference the SLR pulls on the straights. Overall, it wasn't even close — it wasn't even a race. At the end of the four lap sprint, I couldn't even see a Merc on the short home straight of Red Bull Ring in my Viper. Purely as a track toy, I prefer the Viper for its comparative lightness, manual gearbox, shorter wheelbase, and tighter suspension setup, but there really is no arguing the results of the "race" around RBR: the SLR is not only a better car to live with, but is also faster than the prison bus that is the Viper.
Lap 1 Turn 3: The last time I was able to share road width with an SLR.
Goddamnit SLR, can you conform to expectations ONCE in your life?!
Off the track, I think I like the SLR even more. Stylistically, it is my favourite Mercedes, because I think it is by far the most unique and daring of designs from the German brand, blending grace, aggression, and exuding a sense of imposing grandeur just because it can, for the sake of it, like a nuclear powered grandfather clock. It doesn't look like it's trying to take itself too seriously like almost every other modern Mercedes, but is still instantly recogniseable as one. I also like how I never have to worry about scraping this thing because it's not a track weapon like the Carrera GT, and this thing puts such ridiculous ease into speed, it feels no different at 20 or 200. It is rock solid at speed, and the subtle supercharger whine pries a cheeky smile from me every time I drive it, giving it a sense of occasion and character more reserved for American muscle than anything from the Germans.
Yes, the five speed auto is unfortunate, and I would take even a five speed manual if it were ever offered, but over the course of the week, this slushbox had grown on me. I mean, for starters, at least they didn't go for an automated manual in the early 2000s, like BMW and Ferrari. I think that, short of a traditional stick shift, a torque converter automatic is really the next best thing, as the shifts are smooth and notably quicker than the notoriously bad paddle shift cars of the early 21st century. I think Mercedes did the best they could with it as well, as I find that the ratios are spaced out well and intuitively, and the long, wide ratios evoke some serious nostalgia of driving 80s and 90s Japanese crap boxes, albeit scaled up in the SLR to hit a claimed top speed of 334km/h (207.5mph). The taller ratios also make driving in the wet surprisingly easy, and I really like the obnoxiously loud clicking sounds the paddles make. I'm not kidding you when I say the "KA-CHUNK" sound both paddles make are so loud that they're distinctly audible even through the supercharger, engine, road and wind noise, even at speed. I know I'm in the minority in this: I'm the sort of person that loves to hear a mechanical keyboard clickety clack away as I type, as I do love hearing the sound from others. I love the extra layer of feedback and affirmation from buttons and such, though I can easily imagine it being overbearing to others. There's a certain romance, a certain mechanical involvement, a certain appreciation of a process that's hard to put into words, akin to reading a physical book instead of a digital copy, or listening to a mechanical watch tick. A sort of old school touch befitting a heritage-rich car company like Mercedes.
While I realise I can only say this now in hindsight, I really love how rare and therefore special these cars have become, simply because of how misunderstood they were and still are. The design doesn't look like it has aged a day, and it really makes for a very special sight to behold on the streets today.
If someone walked up to me, plopped 600k into my hands and told me I could only spend it on anything from the 2000s, I should opt for a Carrera GT despite having never driven one before. I might be swayed by the sonorous LFA and a house to keep it in. I might buy six Viper ACRs in different colour combos. I might even buy a Mazda RX-8 Type RS and retire for life, or at least until inflation catches up to me. But I suspect I might find myself contemplating an SLR McLaren, because, in spite of its obvious flaws, I find myself being more than pleasantly surprised by what it has to offer on more than a few occasions, and I genuinely cannot name another car that makes such explosive and irresponsible performance so easy and relaxing to use. It's not often I find myself liking a car I might actually bring out on a date with someone, either.
The SLR may well be the most conflicted and misunderstood car in recent memory, with endless visible conflict over trying to be a luxury GT car and a super sports car, but it does them both so well with such flair and character, it's hard to not be impressed by what a stunning package the car is. The SLR may have caught neither the luxury GT nor super sports car rabbit, but it at least has them both in one pen within sight. The world may have gone mad, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't accidentally poop out something truly special and amazing. They just happen to cost a lot oftentimes. Yes, yes I'm salty. Not because the car is bad, but because I can't afford one. This car is a true Sleeper in my eyes.
I just wonder what McLaren's part in all this is, aside from putting it together.
