2002 Prowler 3.5l V6 24v Automatic Rwd Convertible Leather Keyless Entry Cd Gold on 2040-cars

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Junkyard Gem: 1975 Plymouth Fury Sedan

The Plymouth Fury was once among the most commonplace vehicles on American roads, with the 1970s being the most Furious decade of all. If you've watched a lot of Malaise Era cop shows, you've seen endless examples of the 1975-1978 B-Body Fury sedan; today's Junkyard Gem in Colorado is a civilian version with a very unusual combination of features and options. Though the 1975-1978 Fury is sibling to many much more famous B Platform Chryslers, including the Dukes of Hazzard General Lee and a lot of other highly revered Mopars of the late 1960s and early 1970s, it doesn't get the recognition it deserves today. Would the world be the same if Debbie Harry had posed in her Anya Phillips dress on the bumper of, say, a Ford LTD instead of the iconic '76 Fury on the cover of Plastic Letters? I've got this album cover hanging on my garage wall, right next to Sir Mix-a-Lot's My Hooptie and its '69 Buick Electra. This sun-baked '75 left the assembly line with some nice luxury options for an affordable midsize sedan of its time, including a padded vinyl roof. Factory air conditioning was a $437 option on the Fury in 1975, a price tag that comes to an attention-grabbing $2,185 in 2020 dollars. The MSRP on a Fury sedan that year started at just $3,571 ($17,840 today), so A/C jacked up the cost by close to 15%. The base engine was a 225-cubic-inch (3.7-liter) Slant-6, but this car took the next step up on the Fury engine hierarchy for 1975: a 318-cubic-inch (5.2-liter) V8 making 145 horsepower. Here's where things get a bit weird. That shift lever on the steering column controls a three-speed manual; this rig is commonly known as a three-on-the-tree. The most popular transmission setup on Detroit cars of the 1940s through the early 1960s, the good ol' three-on-the-tree survived here all the way through the 1979 model year in new cars and 1987 in new trucks. By 1975, most lower-priced American mid- and full-sized cars had the three-on-the-tree as base equipment, but by that time nearly every new-car shopper here opted for an automatic transmission or — occasionally — a floor-shifted three- or four-speed manual. The total number of 1975 Fury buyers who sprang for the V8 engine, air conditioning, and a vinyl roof yet still kept the old-fashioned three-on-the-tree transmission setup probably can be counted in the low hundreds, if even that many.

Taking a truly driverless ride in Waymo's Chrysler Pacifica

Today was a first for me: I drove in a fully autonomous vehicle on roads without anyone behind the wheel. They weren't public roads, but they did have intersections, other vehicles, pedestrian traffic, cyclists and more, and the car managed a fairly long route without any human intervention — and without any cause for concern on my part. I've done a lot of self-driving vehicle demos, including in Waymo's own previous-generation Lexus test vehicles, so I wasn't apprehensive about being ferried around in Waymo's Chrysler Pacifica minivan to begin with. But the experience still took me by surprise, in terms of just how freeing it was once it became apparent that the car was handling things all on its own, and would continue to do so safely regardless of what else was going on around it. Waymo's test track at Castle (more on that facility here) included multiple intersections with traffic lights, a roundabout, cars stopped on the shoulder, crossing foot band cycle traffic and more. Even if these were staged, they'd be hard to replicate in exact detail every time, so despite the fact that Waymo clearly had more control here than they would out in the real world, the driving experience was still impressive. In particular, one event stuck with me: A squirrel (or other small rodent, I'm no expert on the fauna of Northern California) darted out quickly in front of the car, before turning back off the road – but the vehicle perceptibly slowed in case it needed to avoid it. Barring an incredibly lifelike animatronic, this isn't something Waymo could've planned for. Regarding how it actually works, once in the vehicle and buckled up, a rider taps a button to start the ride, and then displays mounted on the backs of the front seats show a visualization of what the car's sensors see, but selectively simplified and redesigned to draw focus to things that riders find important, and to reassure them about the system's competence and ability to spot all the key variables on the road. This is essentially the same car driving riders around Chandler, in Phoenix, where the current Waymo pilot is operating. It's still essentially a stock Pacifica van, with a premium trim upgrade, but included features in that vehicle, including the many USB ports for charging located throughout, the dual screens mentioned above on the seat backs, and the rear cabin AC and climate controls all make it particularly well suited to the task of putting the rider first.

The problem with how automakers confront hacking threats

More than anyone, Chris Valasek and Charlie Miller are responsible for alerting Americans to the hacking perils awaiting them in their modern-day cars. In 2013, the pair of cyber-security researchers followed in the footsteps of academics at the University of Cal-San Diego and University of Washington, demonstrating it was possible to hack and control cars. Last summer, their research established which vehicles contained inherent security weaknesses. In recent weeks, their latest findings have underscored the far-reaching danger of automotive security breaches. From the comfort of his Pittsburgh home, Valasek exploited a flaw in the cellular connection of a Jeep Cherokee and commandeered control as Miller drove along a St. Louis highway. Remote access. No prior tampering with the vehicle. An industry's nightmare. As a result of their work, FCA US recalled 1.4 million cars, improving safety for millions of motorists. For now, Valasek and Miller are at the forefront of their profession. In a few months, they could be out of jobs. Rather than embrace the skills of software and security experts in confronting the unforeseen downside of connectivity in cars, automakers have been doing their best to stifle independent cyber-security research. Lost in the analysis of the Jeep Cherokee vulnerabilities is the possibility this could be the last study of its kind. In September or October, the U.S. Copyright Office will issue a key ruling that could prevent third-party researchers like Valasek and Miller from accessing the components they need to conduct experiments on vehicles. Researchers have asked for an exemption in the Digital Millennial Copyright Act that would preserve their right to analyze cars, but automakers have opposed that exemption, claiming the software that runs almost every conceivable vehicle function is proprietary. Further, their attorneys have argued the complexity of the software has evolved to a point where safety and security risks arise when third parties start monkeying with the code. Their message on cyber security is, as it has been for years, that they know their products better than anyone else and that it's dangerous for others to meddle with them. But in precise terms, the Jeep Cherokee problems show this is not the case. Valasek and Miller discovered the problem, a security hole in the Sprint cellular connection to the UConnect infotainment system, not industry insiders.