Like a blind date who doesn't quite match the description in the Craigslist ad, the Audi R8 made a flat first impression. Proportions were okay, and the engine was in the right place, i.e., smack in the middle, nestled into an aluminum space frame and connected to Quattro all-wheel-drive, just as in the pricier, Audi-backed Lamborghini Gallardo. But under harsh lights at the recent Detroit auto show, the car seemed dated by supercar standards, with those cheese-grater vents imparting a vaguely '80s, low-level coke-dealer vibe.

But a fling at Las Vegas Speedway and in the surrounding desert has utterly changed my mind. Beneath the skin--which I still wouldn't call beautiful, but certainly striking, and unique--the R8 is a sophisticated, romping good time. And like its direct rival, the Porsche 911S 4, it's equally impressive for its practical, approachable aspects. From its 0-60 blast in about 4.5 seconds to its 186 mph max speed, the car feels quicksilver fast, yet effortless to drive. And unlike many exotics, including the more brutal, demanding Gallardo, the R8 makes for a reasonable daily drive, with easy entry, a feathery clutch, and a roomy, airy cockpit.

Of course, a great engine helps, and while 4.2 liters and 425 horsepower might not sound like much these days, this is the V-8 from the acclaimed Audi RS 4. With direct injection and a 12.5:1 compression ratio, the engine--with its thrilling, near-symphonic sound--runs like silk right up to its 8,000 rpm red line.

On lonely two-laners in Nevada's Valley of Fire, I hammered the R8 between towering sandstone formations--jagged, evil-looking things that, I observed, would make rather poor crash absorbers.

Las Vegas Speedway was next. On a handling course, the R8 proved blessedly free of the expected all-wheel-drive understeer. Instead, the car was easy to coax into fun, ridiculously controllable slides. The only mild letdown is the automated manual transmission. Instead of the expected Audi S Tronic gearbox--the gold-standard, dual-clutch system found on models including the TT--you get a single-clutch, paddle-shifted "R Tronic" box that's fine for hard driving but a bit lurchy around town. (The dual-clutch unit, Audi claims, couldn't handle the V-8's torque. Purists take note: A manual transmission is available.) The six-speed snicks through gears fairly well, considering its traditional, Ferrari-style metal gates.

And with "only" 425 horses and somewhat short gearing, the Audi didn't feel especially quick above 130 mph or so, where burlier rides like a Corvette Z06 or Dodge Viper, while far less refined, would easily pull away.

Speaking of the Corvette, the Audi's optional adaptive suspension, like that of the new Ferrari 599, uses the magnetic shock absorbers pioneered by none other than the 'Vette.

Capping my day with a final sunset blast on US 93 near the Hoover Dam, the R8 plotted fast downhill sweepers with compass precision, topping 130 mph through the curves while barely breaking a sweat.

The R8's base price is $110,000 (with an emphasis on base--anyone able to buy this car will likely load it with optional goodies). That price is in line with a well-equipped 911S 4 or Aston Martin Vantage V-8, a bit more than a Jaguar XKR or Mercedes SL 550, and far less than a 911 Turbo or Gallardo.

--LAWRENCE ULRICH

With 1,254 cars sold at this year's Barrett-Jackson Collector Car Auction in Scottsdale, at an average price of $87,001, one thing's for sure: The muscle car is back. Again.

Here are some of the highlights from the annual Arizona get-together:

1930 Duesenberg Model J

Once dubbed "the world's finest motor car," this Model J--with its original 265-horsepower, straight 8 engine and body--sold for $660,000. Bidders at Barrett-Jackson tend to like their cars like their thick cuts of porterhouse--very rare. This stately car is just that, winning several awards including the 2004 Grand Classic Award, National First Place from the Classic Car Club of America, and a first-place badge from the Antique Automobile Club of America.

1954 Dodge Firearrow "Dream"

Conceived by legendary American car designer Virgil Exner in 1954 as part of a four part series, the Firearrow II and IV "Dreams" are the only two convertible Firearrows in the world. The yellow Firearrow II was built on a shortened Dodge Chassis, and the bright red Firearrow IV, the last of the collection, is in its original condition. Both cars have received honors at Meadowbrook and Amelia Island Concours d'Elegance. Sold for $1.1 million each.

1966 Shelby Cobra Supersnake

The ultimate muscle car, this Shelby Cobra Supersnake set a Barrett-Jackson record selling for $5.5 million. Designed for the personal use of racing and design legend Carroll Shelby, it's powered by a 427cid, 800 hp twin Paxton supercharged V8 engine with a super three-speed automatic transmission.

1967 Corvette Coupe

Restored in 2005 by Terry Michaelis with a L-36 427-hp engine, factory air conditioning, a telescopic steering column, and a M-21 close ration transmission, this 'vette is the last of the C-2 series and is an American classic, and a downright bargain at $151,250.

1971 Plymouth Barracuda

The fastest Hemi-powered 'Cuda in the world, this red monster has clocked speeds over 200 mph, blending modern performance with the gears of a seventies standout. Without question one of the most boss 'cudas around, leaving rubber patches at $588,500.

1978 N007 Tupolev

In 1961 the Russian government commissioned Andrei Tupolev, a Soviet aircraft designer, to build the N007, a top-secret rescue watercraft. The N007 Tupolev was used to rescue cosmonauts from the hazardous terrain of Siberia. Here in Scottsdale it sold for $187,000.

CNN's "Warrior One" Hummer

This 1993 Hummer was used by CNN journalists covering the war in Iraq in 2003. The auction's proceeds of $1 million went to the Fisher House Foundation, a group that builds homes on the grounds of military and VA medical center.

Richard Hammond, star of the BBC Two car show "Top Gear," was very nearly sent off to the Great Garage in the Sky last summer when he crashed a jet-powered car while attempting to set a British land speed record.

Happily--for us, and for Hammond, and for the show's ratings--Hammond not only survived, but the whole mess was caught on film, and last night eight million Britons got to tune in and watch it unfold. And skid. And then explode.

On his blog at topgear.com, a wiser, more reflective Hammond defends airing the footage, and puts his ordeal in perspective:

  "We can't pretend it didn't happen--that we can hoon about all over Europe in supercars and punt jet-propelled dragsters up runways at 300mph without things going wrong. That's how it is in the world; things go wrong. And if I've learned one thing, it's that they can go wrong at the worst possible moment."

And if we've learned anything, it's that there are still few things in the world cooler than watching videos of insanely violent car crashes. Maybe that's not exactly the lesson we were supposed to take away from all of this--but until car crashes get boring, that's the lesson that's going to stick.

(And what's "hooning," anyway?)

-- BEN COSGROVE

From Guenter Hohne's new book, DDR Design, an appreciation of East German design.

(See Part 1 here, and find out more about Hohne's work and writings here.)

The Trabant 601, produced without change from 1964 to 1991, did not embody the significant technical or aesthetic progress of the P 50 and P 60. But the crackling two-stroke engine remained, and the interior became more Spartan than its predecessor. The silhouette of the automobile now appeared functionally "purified" and angular--an object constituting nothing more than a relatively reliable means of transportation with a minimum of comfort. In stark contrast stood the French Citroen "Duck"--a bird of paradise.

At the same time, in the sixties and seventies, the East German industrial design duo, Clauss Dietel and Lutz Rudolph, together with the Zwickau Trabant engineers, created more beautiful, functional alternative models, two of which ran perfectly as test vehicles, but none were allowed to be mass produced. The GDR state leadership was of the opinion that East German car drivers could only choose from what they were allotted, so motorists often waited 10 to 12 years to be issued their Trabants.

When people started calling the "new" Trabant "Trabbi," the word conveyed more ironic condescension than love, in the same way that calling Communist Party Leader Erich Honnecker "Honnie" implied everything but "honey." Both were pathetic contemporaries never freely elected by the East German people. After German reunification the "Trabbi" advanced as a nostalgic East German cult object only among the younger generation, which saw in it a comical, noisy, stinky but fun little car.

For parents and grandparents, who didn't have the alternative to drive any other vehicle, it stopped being fun early on: When they needed a replacement part, for instance, which was hardly ever available.

The Trabant was sometimes called an "asphalt blister." The majority of its owners were thoroughly fed up with the car by 1989 when The Wall fell and the civilized world of automobiles came to the GDR. Within 12 months the automobile that many had often waited 12 years to own was relegated to the car cemetery.

Peace to you, car body, old plastic execration!

--Guenter Hohne, translated by Jennifer Stahl

A Trabant 601 finally realizes it purpose in life.

Guenter Hohne's new book, DDR Design, an appreciation of East German design, includes a brief assessment of the Trabant, the much-maligned, boxy, unique little sedan that U2 hijacked as an onstage emblem (an emblem of what, we still don't know) for their "Achtung Baby" tour and a car that designers everywhere seem to either absolutely love or positively loathe. And, in some cases, both.

Hohne (b. 1943 in Zwickau, Saxony, Germany) is a teacher, journalist and curator of design exhibitions who lives and works in Berlin. He graciously allowed us to translate and reprint this slightly edited version of a chapter on the Trabant from DDR Design.

Find out more about Hohne's work and writings here.

Forms pleasing to the eye and the hand were an absolute must in the 1950s, especially in East German industrial design, to the point that aerodynamic, streamlined form was found not only vehicles but even in pencil sharpeners and coffee grinders. A completely understandable fad, when you consider the great longing of consumers and product designers for harmony and suave elegance, even as the hard, coarse reality of daily life, both during and after the war, was stuck all too painfully in their memories.

Just as the Wolfburger Beetle advanced as the symbol of prosperity and leisure in West Germany, the Zwickau compact Trabant P 70 and P 50/ P60 aspired to such greatness on the streets of the GDR. But unlike VW, Opel, and other western car brands, which were entrusted to renowned engineers and designers, the innovations in East German automobile manufacturing came to fruition in anonymous R&D and factory collectives. At best, the leading talents were only known by name among professionals in their own field, and in principal it remained that way until the end of the Socialistic state-run economy.

The Zwickau factory workers attracted both German and international attention with their two-stroke engines--not least because for the first time ever in Germany they used a synthetic thermosetting plastic instead of sheet metal for the car body.

A contribution in the East Berlin design yearbook FORM UND ZWECK (Form and Function) from 1957/58 praised the molded plastic car body for "combining many advantages like corrosion resistance, elastic stability, good repair possibilities, and much more ? The design of the vehicle body corresponds to the completely international direction of economic compact cars without embellishments and architectural extravagance. A further advantage of the molded plastic car body is the possibility of easily taking out the plastic covering in the event of an accident or collision. Function and economy stand in the foreground in the design of this four-person passenger car."

The Trabant P 50, with its pastel-colored or two-toned lacquered body (sometimes accentuated with a chrome-plated trim strip) was especially notable for a particular detail: The door handle, molded from aluminum, was created by a "true designer" from the Weimar Institute for Interior Design, Wolfgang Dryoff (b. 1923), a specialist in door and furniture fittings.

(In the fall of 2006, Dryoff self-deprecatingly related a story about that very detail: "There was only one thing I didn't consider in the beginning: A car doesn't have just one handle on the driver's side. So, after my design was accepted, I later had to submit the counter-piece for the right-hand, passenger door. Embarrassing!")

210,000 Trabant P 50s and P 60s entered the market between 1958 and 1965 (the two-door models were supplemented with luxury and combination versions in the course of those years), with prices averaging 7,500 to 9,500 marks, or roughly $1,800 to $2,400, depending on the design.

In the West, where Trabants were also exported, they could be had for half the price.

--GUENTER HOHNE, translated by Jennifer Stahl

[Read Part 2 of Hohne's Trabant appreciation right here.]

If you have a spare $15 million or so lying around the house, you might want to head over to Paris this February and look into spending it on one of the rarest and most sought-after racing cars on the planet: a 1939 model Auto Union Type D.

On February 17, Christie's will be auctioning one of only three remaining Type Ds at the City of Light's international vintage car fair, Retromobile, and estimates for what the speedster might fetch range from $12 to $15 million. And no one is saying that bids won't go higher, of course.

(The car is on display today, January 25, in New York at the Audi Forum at Park and 47th.)

The car is sometimes referred to as "Hitler's race car," seeing as how the German Chancellor in 1933 offered 500,000 reichmarks to a company that could design a car that highlighted Teutonic prowess. Ferdinand Porsche, an engineer at a firm called Auto Union (today's Audi) managed to grab some of that dough to help build a revolutionary car he had designed.

Over the next several years, that car was tweaked until it emerged as the 1939 Auto Union D-Type. With a 460-horsepower twin-compressor engine, the D eventually won the Grand Prix in France and Yugoslavia before all the models headed east with the Red Army.

The rest, as they say, is history--and if Christie's has its way, history will again be made when the D goes on the block. It's expected to fetch a record auction price.

There's really not much to say about this, as it speaks for itself. 

Kind of.

According to Reuters, the Shanghai Patriotic Sanitation Committee is issuing "spit sacks" to cabbies in the city to try and curb the evidently nationwide habit of taxi drivers and passengers, alike, sploshing loogies out of car windows.

A previous attempt to put a cap on Shanghai's flying saliva problem failed, however, when spittoons were attached to sidewalk garbage cans and denizens misstook them for ashtrays.

Here's hoping the sacks catch on.

Now if we can just get people to stop holding one nostril shut and blowing vigorously through the other while strolling the streets of New York ...

When you think "celebrity-owned wheels," what comes to mind?

Porsche, of course.

Rolls, perhaps?

Maserati? Bentley? Bugatti?

At any rate, chances are pretty good that "LeBaron" is pretty far down the list -- if it shows up at all. Sure, the old Chrysler had a pretty good run of it, morphing through various guises and conceits from the late 1950s through the mid-1990s, but what self-respecting star would be caught dead in one? Can you picture, say, Slash driving down Sunset in a LeBaron? Maybe -- if the car ran on Jim Beam and dope fumes.

And how about Jay Z? Or George Clooney? Or Tom Hanks?  (Actually, yeah, we can see Hanks in a LeBaron. He probably owns two.)

Anyway, the point is, one of the most self-respecting stars to ever light up the firmament, the Chairman of the Board, The Voice, Frank Sinatra himself owned a 1985 LeBaron (a gift from his wife, Barbara), and now Auto Trader in the UK is selling the old tank for a mere 20 grand. (Pounds, not dollars.)

The pitch on the site is pretty hard to resist:

"Powered by a 2.2-litre engine, the LeBaron produces 146bhp and 168 lb/ft of pulling power. The fully-loaded model boasts a leather interior, all-round electric windows, cruise control and has covered 77,777 miles."

Whew! Doors, prepare to get blown in.

We're skeptical of those five sevens in a row on the odomoter, though -- it sounds far too Vegas-y to be true -- but then again, Frank and his Rat Pack did rule the Strip for more than a few years back in the day.

Come to think of it, maybe the LeBaron was the perfect car for Ol' Blue Eyes. After all, it takes a man of supreme self-confidence to at once embody a unique kind of rough, Jersey-born soulfulness and at the same time happily drive around in a white LeBaron wagon (an automatic LeBaron wagon).

We couldn't do it. But that's just one more of a million reasons why we aren't, and never could be, Frank. The guy could make complete crap look utterly cool.

--BEN COSGROVE

Carlo Mollino (right) did a little bit of everything amazingly well. He was a brilliant designer, engineer, architect, and photographer who was always just enough "outside" the fields he dabbled in to really turn things on their heads. In fact the catalogue of the Mollino show at Turin likens him to that extravagant, hungry genius, Ettore Bugatti.

After creating the Bisiluro and witnessing its demise at Le Mans in 1955, Mollino only dreamed of going even faster, drawing up designs for a car (left) intended to shatter land speed records. Putting everything into the need to keep the car on the ground, he created what is essentially an upside down airplane wing--its driver lying on his back, like a luge rider--with only a tiny windscreen to peek through. The real gift of the current Mollino show in Turin is a life-size model of the car he never got to produce, lovingly crafted by 87-year-old Milanese coach-building company Carrozzeria Stola.

From there Mollino moved on to aeronautics, developing planes and his own air-show stunts inspired, Leonardo-like, by his studies of nature. "The essence of Mollino's aerobatics," writes Fulvio Ferrari in an essay from the beautiful Mondalori Electa book, Arabesques (2006), from which these images are borrowed, "lies in the imitation of [the perfect manoevres]" of the falcon or the swallow "with their darting flight and their weaving and unexpected turns." (Right: A detailed, hand-written plan for a series of Mollino's swooping, swerving airplane stunts.)

The dirty photos (see Part I) came later--and he kept right on shooting them into the 1970s.

(Thanks to designboom, where we found out about the Turin show.)

-- OWEN PHILLIPS

Part I

We realize that the recent Motoring Blog entry on F. T. Marinetti's writings and rantings about speed, machine-gun fire, and paving over the canals of Venice might have seemed a little nuts, but as there are only a few days left to see the great Carlo Mollino show at the Galleria Civica d'Arte Moderna, popularly known as GAM, in Turin, we now have cause to renew our reflections on velocity-mad Italian Modernists. (That's Mollino sitting there on the chassis of his "Bisiluro," above. Read more about the Bisiluro below.) Not expecting to spend time in the cradle of the Italian automobile this weekend? Let's hope some innovative curator will import the show stateside.

(All of these images, by the way, are courtesy of the good people at Mondadori Electa publishing.)

Mollino is primarily known here--when he's known at all---for a secret stash of simultaneously beautiful and seamy Polaroids of semi-nude prostitutes unearthed and lavishly published by Arena a few years ago. He's also known for some intensely eclectic modernist furniture. But what might be news even to those long familiar with Mollino's work is the genius-dilettante's dabbling in car design. In 1953 this son of an engineer got excited about a Maserati-produced OSCA 1100 that had won that year's 24 Hour Le Mans race; he started sketching aerodynamic improvements to the body right on photographs of that car.

Developing his ideas to their extreme, he soon produced an asymmetrical, catamaran like car, the Bisiluro ("twin torpedo"), with one sleek hull for the driver and one for the engine. These were connected by a wing-like structure that housed an ingenious curved radiator, flaps to aid braking and a negative-lift wing to keep the car from taking off into the sky.

The car is stunning, but it didn't do so well at Le Mans in 1955. While it averaged 89 mph, its off-kilter construction made it almost impossible to control on turns and it was eventually run off the track and into a ditch by a Jaguar D-type driven by Mike Hawthorn, who went on to win the race. (As it turned out, from Mollino's perspective that minor crash might have been for the best; a bit later in the race, a Mercedes-Benz 300SLR driven by Pierre Levegh clipped Lance Macklin's Austin Healey 100S. Levegh's car hit a wall and exploded into the grandstand, killing 77. See a video of the crash here.)

The Bisiluro remains intact after all these years, and is usually housed at the Museo della Scienza e della Tecnologia in Milan. But for now the car itself, numerous sketches chronicling its production, and photos of its short history (at once glorious and somewhat comical) can be found at Turin.

--OWEN PHILLIPS