The Rake Magazine

Author: Chris Birt

  • Wheels for White Folk

    I am not black. I am white. But here is a topic that is gray. I am talking about the indelible influence of black, urban, “ghetto” culture on white, affluent America. It’s a discussion that’s been bounced around since Brown, Busing, and the The Black Panthers (Leonard the first was a big fan), yet it never ceases to amaze me.

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    A DUB wheel, shinning right back at you.

    How else do you explain why a little white woman with her hair pulled back in a pony tail drops off her skinny white kids for soccer games in a barge more suited for a pimp?

    I think it’s because black people are cool and white people feel left out. Not the little woman in the big black battlewagon, mind you; just most white people whom I call my friends. Like the Ivy Leaguer who recently asked me what a linked called DUB was doing on my blog.

    What?

    Doncha know what a dub wheel is?

    Well then maybe you should. Suddenly you’ll discover how it happens to be the only thing that can make a whitebread ride like Lexus even remotely uncommon.

    But then this has more to do with culture than cars.

    It’s simple questions like these that expose the gap everyone needs to bridge. And just in case you think I am dissing the poor friend that asked me the simple question, you’re wrong. She asked it in a manner that leads me to believe that she genuinely did not know what I was talking about (and felt curious). She has a lot of company, I might add. What I do know is that something as simple as the wheels on a car can say something about society.

    The good thing is that a very white person asked me a simple question about something that is very black. And it’s only when people stop asking these questions that I will start seeing red.

    (My eyes are bloodshot by the way. I hope there ain’t too many typos in here tonight.)

  • Sunday Break: Be Cool. Fight Commonism.

    Again it’s a Sunday, and again I will take a break from cars. Hopefully, you glanced over the post from my first Rakette, Cyd. Cyd, you see, is a really cool young person, primarily because she doesn’t try to be.

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    Two sunny people who don’t try to be cool (see also: Sun King)

    Cyd is not, in other words, a commonist. And neither, good reader, are you. Which may bring into question who I am and why this is so. I am nobody. You are somebody. So let’s focus on you.

    You, I am willing to bet, don’t really care about being cool. You would rather, in the words of the Sun King Louis XIV “be than seem.” In other words, you have no pretense, you don’t put on airs or attempt to be anything other than you are. That makes you uncommon. And heck, if you really do care about it, cool.

    I am willing to bet that if you have been reading this blog, you’ve taken an interest in vehicles and things that are also uncommon. You have also realized at some point in your life the utter futility of trying to be someone else.

    This is even more difficult for you if you have chosen to fill your life primarily with symbols instead of substance — you know, the biggest house, the hottest wife, the phattest rims. Because if history is any guide, Louis XIV had you beat long ago (check out Versailles–it all started as scrapbooking cabin of sorts.)

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    My house was, is and will always be bigger than yours. Luv, Louis.

    Heck, even today you’re going to find it hard to match your shinny new trophy spouse up against the hottest couple on the planet (see Laird Hamilton and Gabriella Reece — Cyd looks a little like her.)

    But I know that’s not you. Because you, my friend, are not a commonist. You’re a fighter. And, to paraphrase a better jingle of the past twenty years (I am in the liquor biz now, this might be good karma), this blog, for all you do, is for you.

  • Rakette to Marry Penguin: A Love Story From AMG.

    As this is my first blog, I feel that I need to tell you a little about myself:

    Born and raised Savage, Minnesota, I will never have a trust fund, allow my children to live off a trust fund, or even be remotely considered a ‘trust fund baby.’ But I would drop what ever I am doing to ride in their daddy’s yachts, go up to their families ‘cabin’ (which is usually more impressive that their house, and has a toy collection that rivals a Yamaha showroom), or drive their cars. Well, that is if their car happens to be THE Mercedes CLS 55 AMG.

    mercedes.jpg

    Last Thursday I spent the day in one of the hottest cars in Tinseltown, or as was the case on Thursday, on 35W-S. The hours in the day weren’t long enough as I tried to savor each and every stare I got on the road as I drove what is (and will be) the nicest car that I had ever ‘owned.’ I felt as though I was playing house as I tried to convince my younger sister that my job had given me the car for the summer because I run a lot of errands for the company, and as I rolled the windows all the way down so that the tell-tale stickers on the windows were hidden.

    As nice as the CLS 55 was looking, the true beauty of this car is under the hood. Let’s just say that I went 0-50mph in 4 seconds, and the only reason I stopped at 50 was that I didn’t want to speed- but the car did. That car is made for speed, especially with a jaw-dropping 476 horsepower powered by a 5.5-liter supercharged V8 engine.

    I picked up my dad and drove him around for a while because he is a car-freak, and let him get behind the wheel- just for a little bit though, because I was having too much fun. He was pretty quiet about the car until he got behind the wheel and let the pedal touch the floor once the light turned green. “Holy s*@#!,” was the reaction that let me know that he approved.

    Yes, the engine is a little extravagant for a 4-door luxury car, but this car is on a whole other level than the Lexus and Infiniti high-end cars that speckle the roads in Wayzata, Edina and Minnetonka. The CLS 55 AMG says I have money, I take care of myself, and I’m here to party.

    With a statement like that, it is easy to see why this car can please just about anyone (with a cushy bank account). The Edina mom likes the design and the features, the Wayzata dad likes the speed, and the Holy Angels trust-fund kid likes how the Harmon Kardon speakers can out-power the other kid’s systems in the high school parking lot.

    The day after I had to let the CLS go and hop back into my Mazda 626, I had another run-into with a CLS 55 in Stillwater of all places! After an interesting party-bus ride to the Freight House in Stillwater, my girlfriends and I met a bunch of hockey players from BU, one of whom had just been signed by the Pittsburg Penguins. Towards the end of our time there I witnessed the conversation between the Penguin and his sober cab, who was holding up what can only be described as a good memory. He was holding up the CLS 55 key, which actually looks more like a USB flash drive than a regular key, and didn’t understand how this was going to start the car. I ran over and quickly asserted myself as the CLS 55 expert that I had become, and became attached at the hip with the Penguin to assure that I would be able to drive the CLS 55 again for many years. Look for wedding invitations in the mail come the end of next week.

    Cydney Wuerffel (for now)

  • Veracruz. Almost Ready for Battle.

    On Friday, I should be seeing my first post from my hand-picked Road Rakette, Cyd. Cyd is a college student that just started her career this summer (and may not even know that yet). Cyd is a millenial. Her Dad is what the automotive biz might call “mature” but then he would get all up in my business for saying that.

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    The battlewagon of Veracruz. courtesy: Hyundai, Warren Zevon.

    Anyway, Cyd and her Dad drove a sweet ClS-class AMG Mercedes last week to test the waters with an uncommon vehicle for millenials and “matures” i.e. M&M cars. When the market talks about M&M cars, however, it usually means anything better than a Buick. I test drove a car in Colorado today that typifies this new trend. It is called the Hyundai Veracruz and I think Toyota should be worried. Because this is one Korean that’s ready for battle and its gunning right for Japan.

    Hyundai, as you may or may not know, is a stunning example of an automotive turnaround. First introduced to the US market in the 80s, they built inexpensive cars with great advertising (“Its Mother Was A Car, Its Father Was A Ship” — from DellaFemina) that fell apart. Then they got their act together.

    Recently, they have been churning out all kinds of Nissan, Mazda and Toyota fighters (Americans lost this battle long ago) with ten year warranties, disciplined (if derivative) styling, and decent (enough) quality. Most of all, they have priced their cars at 10k less than anyone else. That remains their trump card.

    The Veracruz is Huyndai’s latest and best example of their turnaround. It is their first upscale SUV designed to compete with Lexus, not just Toyota. It doesn’t hold a candle to Lexus but it pretty much kicks Toyota’s proverbial butt. The interior is well appointed. The ride is controlled. The styling is disciplined (and yes, derivative).

    Better yet, this SUV has all the tools required by generation@ (the story is already outdated but remains accurate) with a level of fit and finish you just won’t find in most of their rides. So I would say this baby is defintely ready for battle.

    Almost.

    To be sure, it demands to be driven and bought quickly. It appears, however, that its enemies should be more well defined. Hyundai is positioning this car against Lexus and that is a battle this SUV will not win. Despite a review in Motor Trend to the contrary, the Lexus is still worth an additional 20k. Yet it feels enough like a Lexus to seriously consider saving the extra dough. The fact that I am even comparing a lowly piece of Korean tin to this Japanese Daimyo is saying something.

    There is, however, another reason I say “almost.” I am trying to measure ever car we drive against the commonist dialetic, or that maddening tendency of car companies to build vehicles that please everyone. Right now the Huyndai fights commonism precisely because you see so few in Kenwood and (so I am told) Bearpath. (want more?) That is why I might just buy it now.

    But seriously, this car is not a breakthrough idea. It is no Scion XB or even a cutting edge design like the Ford Edge (I guess they do build some cars of note occasionally). The only thing that stands out about this car is its quality, features, and price.

    In other words, virulent anti-commonists may not like the Veracruz but always love a fighter. And you must admit that this SUV is a fine effort from a company that knows how to fight.*

    * Really weird insight but if you can find footage of President Park from South Korea in the 70s (the general who declared martial law) you might come across a clip of an assasination attempt made on both him and his wife. He kept speaking right through it as the medics tended to his wife. I saw it on Frontline.

  • Brenda Buys a Car. (not a Prius nor around Paris*)

    We all know Brenda, don’t we? (see: urban, organic, goddess.) If you don’t, you should, because Brenda Langton is an entrepreneur who has successfully fought commonism for years.

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    Brenda in crisp white jacket and soon chillin’ white ride.

    Brenda owns two joints with her totally cool husband, Tim. One of their places, Cafe Brenda, just started serving grass-fed beef. (Yep. In an organic restaurant. Talk about fighting commonism). The other is a lovely little spot called Spoon River. The only thing common about it is that does not take American Express (why is that becoming so common? its frustrating).

    The other day Brenda let it slip that she wants to buy a car.

    The commonly-inclined (those who live and think in little boxes) probably cannot see Brenda driving anything faster than a bicycle but that will never do. I see her in something between a Prius and a Porsche . I am currently seeing her in a new BMW X3 (photo is not actual, seems like the old model) wagon in arctic white, but something about it feels too common.

    I will be shuttling between offices this week, so I’ll leave the first picks for Brenda’s ride up to you. Stop into either Brendas or Spoon River and tell her what you think. We’ll get around to driving them probably sometime next week.

    * Just checking to see if you read the headline first. Generally people interested in Paris Hilton will not read this blog. We prefer Paris, France. . That does not make us better than you, just less common (and that is sad).

  • Barry Bonds, Barry Manilow, and Bill.

    On the Seventh Day you are supposed to take a break. With that in mind I’d like to write about something other than cars for just a day. I’d like to write about the difference between stars and heroes. Its a little diddy about two men named Barry and a boy named Bill (I’ve changed his name a little).

    One of these Barrys is going to break a record soon. This Barry is named Bonds. And this Barry is a cheat.

    The other Barry is a guy who played piano for a woman in New York in the early 70s and probably was disliked by big boys like Bonds. This Barry is named Manilow. And this Barry is well, Barry Manilow.

    These two Barrys have a few things in common however, like stardom, fame and a whole lotta hits. Which brings me to a boy named Bill.

    Bill also plays baseball. He is not a star, he’ll probably never be famous nor feel the pride of belting one out of the park. Because Bill, you see, is a diabetic, disheveld outsider on my Little League baseball team.

    But he knows what it takes to win.

    I’ve learned from Bill this season. I’ve admired the simple way in which, deficits and all, he has delivered for our team. In fact, he got a clutch hit last week and became a bit of a hero. And he has done it all without cutting corners and or caring too much what other people think. Because this Bill is comfortable in his own skin.

    Which is why although I might be uncomfortable with what Barry Manilow considers music I also admire his grit. He might be odd but he does not seem like a cheater and he seems to keep his fans.

    Which is something the famous star Barry Bonds just never seems to have. In fact, I don’t a kid on our baseball who doesn’t think him a creep. Because winners just don’t cheat. (And Mandy doesn’t count.)

    Which is why Mr. Bonds could learn something from Mr. Manilow and his doppelganger named Bill. I gotta hunch they’d tell him to stop cheating, fess up and become something bigger than he is right now.

    And that just might be his last day as a star.

    And his first day as a hero.

    (P.S. I don’t think this little diddy needs links.)

  • Buying Books For The Road

    I am planing a little road trip this suumer. I hope I end up somewhere better than this steel internet kiosk in O’Hare. The seat is as comfortable as a prison toilet.

    That being said, I once wrote a piece about groovy books to buy. If you could find a librarian these days, they would have a better system, but for now here’s mine.

    ” Groovy books generally fall into six categories: 1) History. 2) Books on theory (any genre). 3) The rare “novel of ideas,” i.e. the novels of Ayn Rand*, Camus, Sartre. 4) Writers worth studying for their literary style, not their storytelling, such as Hemingway, Graham Greene, George Orwell, Nelson Algren, Jack Kerouac, Tom McGuane, Vonnegut, Pynchon, etc. 6) Technically plausible and relevant futurism.

    Pressed for time? Cull this list back to history, theory and the “novel of ideas.” And if you have only one day? Start and end with history. Here’s why: truth, by and large, is much stranger than fiction. (The last tune Rasputin heard was a scratchy gramophone recording of “Yankee Doodle Dandy”. Try to put that in a novel.) This makes horror stories more shocking. Love stories more passionate. Tragedies more poignant. History, in short, holds the world’s best stories.”

    * Just kidding. She once called O Henry the “very apogee of art” more or less.

  • 5 Minutes in the Maserati. 10 Minutes in the Benz. And more.

    My team (of Rakettes, yes) test drove the Mercedes Benz CLS 55 AMG* yesterday. This is another misunderstood car in fly-over country. It is one of the few cars to be seen in where that kind of thing is important (which it isn’t really). Because of this, however, it seems a somewhat naughty purchase for people around here.

    The think (and they are mistaken) that they should be in a Lexus. Like the Maserati I drove recently, a quick five minute test drive will do nothing to dissuade them from that thought. Heck even ten minutes in this car can prove frustrating. But once you go to eleven (see: Spinal Tap) things change.

    FOOTNOTES (READ WHEN YOU HAVE 12 MINUTES.)

    Coming soon: “More” for less. We have to get through a few great yet misunderstood cars in the next few weeks. As Warren Buffet (see Benjamin Graham) will tell you, it is always better to buy a valuable asset that is somewhat misunderstood. That is why if you stick with us here we will get to all kinds of cars in all kinds of price ranges. If you are buying one today here is a little advice: stick with the letter “M” as in Mazda. They make the best bang for the buck car out there right now. Particulalry their Mazdaspeed brands like the 3 and 6 series.

    (*AMG is Mercedes tuner house, as M is to BMW, V is to Cadillac,RS is to Audi, SRT is to Chrylser and more.)

  • How To Get Attention. Paris Hilton, Paris, Paris In Jail, Paris Video, Paris on Couch, Style.

    Disclaimer: This post is only nominally about cars but a car did cause me to write it.

    I have been getting up earlier that usual these days (I wonder how many blogs start with that same inane sentence. A blog is not a diary. A blog is logging of information that starts conversation. Diaries belong on Linked In, Facebook and the site adults must not name.*)

    As I was saying, I am actually waking up and driving my car these days. This could be why I am forgetting to do simple things (like spellchecking) and, um, closing my gas cap after a fill.

    It happened this morning.

    And for once I felt like Paris post-first-video on a couch, naked, at Crobar.

    At first.

    It then rapidly degenerated into ridicule (which is how the little Princess may be feeling these days. Prison time was not good for her brand. Sex sells (to kids especially which bugs me). Prison for a teen idol does not.)

    I admit I enjoyed being accosted by the pleasant looking person in the parking lot with zero body fat (they get up early, apparently). I did not enjoy being told the same thing by the soccer mom in the Volvo who pulled in next to me.

    I liked her car and her fashion sense but was put off by her friendly admonition. She was the unfortunate third person to inform me that my gas cap was open and suddenly I felt like a fool instead of cool.

    She was only trying to help.

    Much like Paris’s handlers are doing right now at 750.00 a hour. Moral of the story: positive attention pays, negative attention costs. And no, this is not an advertisement for my professional services. Although I am at work.

    Early.

    (P.S. This headline is designed to be devoured by search engine spiders. The words “Paris Hilton” still pull unseemly traffic. But I think she has reached a plateau. The thinking man or woman would be searching for Kathryn Heigl.)

    * This is a free “zeigeist read” for you. Free because its so darn known.

  • Automobile as Olive Branch

    (pics to go here: when I fix them.)
    Automachina, Museo, che piu bellezza?

    A wise man pointed something out to me the other day. People talk about cars, particularly when they are their own.

    Much like we cannot choose our children (if we choose to have them) sometimes certain cars choose us. I truly feel the Maserati is still calling me and yet it will not be mine. Someone else’s name is on this car and he believe he goes by the name of Myron Kunin.

    Mr. Kunin, you see, can understand this car. He owns one of the more significant private collections of modern art in the county. In this capacity Mr. Kunin is the company of another Minneapolis area mogul Ralph Burnett. Mr Burnett also owns an a substantial and signifcant collection of modern art (particularly Damien Hirst) on display at Chambers Hotel (still a secret somewhat, why?).

    Now, Mr. K and Mr. B may not share the same opinons on anything. Because they are both avid modern art collectors, they have likely competed fiercely with the likes of Dolly Fitterman here locally over a certain piece. Who knows?

    They both understand art however, and that is what the Maserati is. It moves the soul as well as the person. It was mine for a day and I could not stop talking about it. I even talked to people who seemed different than me. Like the pint-sized Edina mom with her blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail lost in a living room called “Escalade.”

    That is why if Myron pulled into Ralph’s hotel in the blue Maserati both would be speechless. The car is undeinably gorgeous. It exists somewhere beyond the petty squabbles of busines, politics and art. And, incidentially, it looks fabulous in front of a museum (as you soon see when I upload the pictures.)

    This is the kind of car that can create peace between moguls.

    So buy it, Mr. Kunin.

    Or Dolly gets the car.