1950 Chrysler Windsor / Royal on 2040-cars

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2015 Chrysler 200S AWD

I love road trips. Honestly, one of the best parts about this job is the freedom we're given to experience the open road, whether at new car launches or while bombing around with whatever we're testing on our home turf. But the longer-form road trip is equally special to me, and it's something I'm always eager to do. Air travel stinks - that's not news. So if I can drive, I will. And without our dear TSA to fight with, I can pack all the chainsaws and gallon jugs of chocolate milk that I want.
So when it came time to attend the 2014 New York Auto Show this past April, I thought, "Why not drive?" Typically, the route from downtown Detroit to Manhattan is something like 10 hours, but I decided to bake some extra time into the journey and planned for the vast majority of my travels to be off the beaten path. Doing the "avoid expressways" route allows you to see parts of America you've never encountered before, and to meet people with stories and opinions that you've never heard. It's a great way to travel if you have the time. There's something uniquely serene about seeing the country in a great car on a great road.
Let's talk about that "great car" line for a moment. Ideally, long stretches of backroads are best done in something fast, comfortable and involving - a Porsche 911 comes to mind. Or, another school of thought says to pick some fun little spitfire like the always-lovely Mazda MX-5 Miata, for top-down, sun-drenched fun. But for this trip, I chose the 2015 Chrysler 200, in fully loaded S guise with all-wheel drive. Now, settle down; I'm not about to compare it to either the Porsche or Mazda. The point I'm making is this: after 1,500 test miles under my butt, I can emphatically state that the new 200 is indeed a great car in its own right.

Junkyard Gem: 1993 UMC Aeromate Food Truck

One of my favorite things about living in the Mile High City is all the food trucks roaming the neighborhoods here. I'm a regular at such fine mobile eating establishments as Tacos el Huequito, Mikes2Kitchen, and Yuan Wonton, and I'm pleased that South Denver's metal-centric Brutal Poodle bar now has its own food truck. The sad part about food trucks, however, is that they're trucks, and sometimes old trucks wear out and have to be sent to the knacker's yard. Here's a once-ebullient Denver food truck that met that fate and now resides in a self-service yard just south of the city. This truck started out as a member of the extended UMC Aeromate family, built in Indiana by the company now known as Utilimaster. I couldn't find much useful information about this particular model, which seems to have the windshield and nose of one of the many UMC-based RVs instead of the typical long snout of most Aeromates. What I do know is that it's based on an early-1990s Chrysler minivan chassis, complete with 3.3-liter V6 engine and the instrument cluster out of a 1992 Plymouth Voyager. The 3.3 made 150 horsepower in 1993, and it was installed in Chrysler minivans through 2010. 150 horses (and 180 pound-feet) isn't much for a big truck packed with a complete kitchen, and the strain on a Torqueflite automatic transmission designed for a 3,400-pound minivan must have been severe. I think the drivetrain on this 29-year-old truck just couldn't hold up under the demands of a hard-working crew of sandwich entrepreneurs in the extreme weather and traffic conditions of High Plains Colorado. The county licensing sticker expired in late 2019, so it took a couple of years for this UMC to reach this place. Don't weep for the Little Big Sandwich Truck, though, because the LBST Empire upgraded to a newer, GM-built school bus a few years ago and appears to be slinging sandwiches outside Denver-area breweries to this day. The headlights and marker lights clearly came from a late-first-generation Dodge Caravan/Plymouth Voyager (the second-generation Chrysler minivans, which debuted in the 1991 model year, got different noses). The grille looks like typical RV equipment. I've seen a few junked ice cream trucks over the years, but somehow a sandwich truck with a stenciled snorkeling dachshund seems sadder. Related video: This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings.

The Hemi deserves to die | Opinion

Hi. I'm Byron and I love V8s. I want them to stick around for a long, long time. But not all V8s are created equal, and I will not mourn the passing of the modern Hemi. You shouldn't either. While we may agree that its death is untimely, if you ask me, that's only because it came far too late.  Stellantis’ announcement of its new, turbocharged inline-six that is all but guaranteed to kill off the Hemi V8 has led to quite a few half-baked internet takes. The notion being suggested by some, that automotive media were brainwashed into believing the Hemi was in need of replacement, is so far divorced from reality that I openly guffawed at the notion. Journalists have been challenging Chrysler, FCA and now Stellantis for years to deliver better high-performance engines. The response has always been the same: “Why?” Why replace a heavy V8 with a lighter, all-aluminum one? Why repackage powertrains for smaller footprints and better handling vehicles? Why be better when “good enough” sells really, really well? I too mourn the departure of good gasoline-burning engines, but since when was the Hemi one? HereÂ’s a quiz: Name every SRT model with an all-aluminum engine. TimeÂ’s up. If you named any, you failed. They donÂ’t exist. This isnÂ’t GMÂ’s compact, lightweight small-block, nor is it a DOHC Ford Coyote that at least revs high enough to justify its larger footprint. The Hemi is an overweight marketing exercise that happened to be in the right place at the right time. That time was 2003, when Chrysler was still Chrysler — except it was Daimler-Chrysler and the "merger of equals" was doing a bang-up job of bleeding the company's cash reserves dry while doing virtually nothing to address its mounting legacy costs. "That thang got a Hemi?" was emblematic of the whimsical, nostalgia-driven marketing of the colonial half of the "marriage made in heaven." That was 20 years ago. 20 years prior to that, emissions-choked American V8s were circling the drain faster than a soapy five-carat engagement ring in a truck stop sink.