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24 Hours of Le Mans live update part one

We tasked surfing journalist Rory Parker to watch this year's live stream of the 2016 24 Hours of Le Mans. What follows is an experiment to experience the world's greatest endurance race from the perspective of a motorsports novice with a profanity-laden stream-of-consciousness writing style. Parker lives in Hawaii and spends far more time spearfishing than behind the wheel of a car. Jump ahead to Part Two here, and Part Three here. Big Money and billionaire hobbyists and rockets on wheels. Jets belching French color smoke overhead. Balance of power fuckery. Plenty of water on the ground this morning. Absurdly expensive motorcars lined up in the pissing rain. Fast twitch lunatics behind the wheel. Chomping at the bit. Let's go let's go let's go! Race hasn't even started, Ford #67 maybe dealing with clutch issues. Karma? That beautiful bastard Brad Pitt's out on the track, waving the tricolor flag. It's a standing start in "Noah's Ark" weather and the 2016 24 hours of Le Mans is go! First lap takes place behind the safety car, finished in a record setting 8 minutes 27 seconds. Wrong kind of record maybe, but this is the first time I've set my mind to watching the whole damn race. Feel like I'm part of history. 3:00 AM on Kauai, a little too early for life. Sucking down coffee like a maniac. Don't fall back asleep. Got my hands on four hours of rest, how much more can I need? Better be enough for the next twenty four hours. Gonna get kinda punchy toward the end. Jason Statham on the scene. Four feet of solid muscle, non-existent hairline. Lovely wife peanut gallery sitting next to me calls him the "best race car drive in the world." Not sure if she's serious. Toss up, could go either way. Statham's a funny guy. Heir to the Bruce Willis comedy action crown. Really good in the movie where the fat comedy lady plays a spy. Ford's on the road. Problems with gearbox pressure, apparently. Nearing a half hour in and the safety car is still on the track. Hellish amounts of water on the ground, in the air. Visibility is garbage. Getting better. Twitter wags, "Not with a bang but a whimper." Just building suspense. Mother Nature felt like killing some people today, race officials need to dial back the drivers until it dries a tad. Normal inclination would've seen 'em flying, guaranteed early lap wrecks. Sad news for that bloodthirsty part of my lizard brain I try and keep suppressed. Good news for humanity. #12 in the pit for a bit.

Autoblog In Cuba: 1957 Chevy Bel Air Review

If you've been following the Autoblog In Cuba series, you may remember that my efforts to rent a car in the country were ultimately unsuccessful. Misinformation, bad planning, and a lack of rental car inventory conspired to disrupt my hoped-for driving adventure. I discovered in my week of exploration, however, that the terrific thing about Havana is that there's always another adventure to be found – if you're willing to look. A car I could drive myself might have been impossible to come by, but a ride to remember was not. After all, even when reviewing a new car, I've found that impressions about the car and the route can be credibly formed from the right seat. Starting from the parking lot of the grand Hotel Nacional, finding an interesting car for hire is as simple as walking up and down the block. Scads of classic American iron wait just outside the hotel gates, in a riot of colors and conditions befitting the tropical climate. Fords from the 1940s are plentiful – more sedans than coupes – and the glory days of General Motors are represented by enough Pontiacs and Cadillacs to fill a Bruce Springsteen B-sides album. But the Chevy Bel Air is the king of the road here, by some margin. View 30 Photos I settled on a burnt orange 1957 Chevy Bel Air convertible, in tourist-appropriate condition. I was looking for a hardtop at the request of my crew's audio/video needs, but settled on a burnt orange 1957 Chevy Bel Air convertible, in tourist-appropriate condition. This car might look good as a prop in the background on your vacation photos – hair blowing in the breeze with the ocean at your back, parked in front of Che's face in Revolution Square, etc. – but was far from pristine on a closer inspection. A perfect representative of the Cuban average. At least the price was right: $50 for two hours to make it 12 miles to Hemingway's house, and back. My driver was a kid named Daniel who looked to be about 20 years old. The Chevy doesn't belong to him, he co-drives it with the owner, but he was able to give me the basic mechanical rundown. The eight- or six-cylinder engine that Chevy shipped this convertible with was long gone. No surprise there, as nearly every American-made car I'd ridden in so far was powered by some belching Mercedes diesel. Despite it's clattering note, Daniel said the lump under the hood of the '57 drinks gas: a four-cylinder of Russian origins, pulled out of a GAZ Volga as best I can understand.

IIHS Crash-tests Expose American Muscle Cars' Weaknesses | Autoblog Minute

Turns out American muscle cars aren?t that strong according to IIHS crash tests. The Insurance Institute for Highway Safety put three iconic American sports cars through a range of performance crash tests. Chevrolet Dodge Ford Autoblog Minute Videos Original Video crash test camaro challenger