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In wake of Volkswagen scandal, cheating may actually get easier

The three crises that rollicked the auto industry in recent months – a rising death toll related to the General Motors ignition-switch defect, the Jeep Cherokee hack and now the Volkswagen cheating scandal – all have one thing in common. Outsiders discovered the problems. In the new matter of Volkswagen rigging millions of cars to outsmart emissions tests, researchers at West Virginia University and the International Council on Clean Transportation first spotted irregularities. In the hacking of a Jeep Cherokee, it was independent cyber-security researchers Chris Valasek and Charlie Miller who found and reported cellular vulnerabilities that allowed them to control a car from halfway across the country. And lest we forget in the case of General Motors, it was a Mississippi mechanic and Florida engineer who first made connections between non-deploying airbags and faulty GM ignition switches that had been altered over time. They worked on behalf of Brooke Melton, a 29-year-old Georgia woman killed in a Chevy Cobalt. "That argument is built on a whole string of trusts, and now it is clear that we should absolutely not be trusting." - Kyle Wiens Amid the Volkswagen scandal, the role these independent third parties played in unearthing life-threatening problems is important to highlight, not only because it shines a light on the ethical indifference corporations paid to life-and-death problems of their creation. The role of the independents is noteworthy because, just as their contributions never been more relevant in protecting the driving public, they could soon be barred from the automotive landscape. Since May, a little-known but critically important process has been playing out before an office within the Library of Congress, which will soon decide whether independent researchers and mechanics can continue to access vehicle software or whether that software, which runs dozens of vehicle components, is protected by copyright law. The Digital Millennium Copyright Act criminalizes measures taken to circumvent security devices that protect copyrighted works. When the DMCA was signed into law in 1998, it was intended to protect the likes of movies from being pirated and companies from ripping off software. At the time, few had a clue that some 17 years later cars would essentially be mobile software platforms run by millions of lines of code that potentially fall under the law's jurisdiction.

The super-sized Atlas isn't the three-row VW should build

In the late '50s and early '60s the Volkswagen Beetle wasn't ubiquitous in my hometown of Lincoln, Nebraska, but it came pretty damn close. Fords and Chevys dominated, but beyond the occasional MG, Triumph, or Renault the import scene was essentially a VW scene. When my folks finally pulled the trigger on a second car they bought a Beetle, and that shopping process was my first exposure to a Volkswagen showroom. For our family VW love wasn't a cult, but our '66 model spoke – as did all Volkswagens and most imports at the time – of a return to common sense in your transportation choice. As VW's own marketing so wonderfully communicated, you didn't need big fins or annual model changes to go grab that carton of milk. Or, for that matter, to grab a week's worth of family holiday. In the wretched excess that was most of Motown at the time, the Beetle, Combi, Squareback, and even Karmann Ghia spoke to a minimal – but never plain – take on transportation as personal expression. Fifty years after that initial Beetle exposure, and as a fan of imports for what I believe to be all of the right reasons, the introduction of Volkswagen's Atlas to the world market is akin to a sociological gut punch. How is it that a brand whose modus operandi was to be the anti-Detroit could find itself warmly embracing Detroit and the excess it has historically embodied? Don't tell me it's because VW's Americanization of the Passat is going so well. To be fair, the domestic do-over of import brands didn't begin with the new Atlas crossover. Imports have been growing fat almost as long as Americans have, and it's a global trend. An early 911 is a veritable wisp when compared to its current counterpart, which constitutes – coincidentally – a 50-year gestation. In comparing today's BMW 3 Series to its' '77 predecessor, I see a 5 Series footprint. And how did four adults go to lunch in the early 3 Series? It is so much smaller than what we've become accustomed to today; the current 2 Series is more substantial. My empty-nester-view of three-row crossovers is true for most shoppers: If you need three rows of passenger capacity no more than two or three times a year – and most don't – rent it forgawdsake. If you do need the space more often, consider a minivan, which goes about its three-row mission with far more utility (and humility) than any SUV.

1000-hp Mk1 VW Golf is terrifyingly cool

There are plenty of things to love about the Mk1 Volkswgen Golf. The machine's horsepower isn't one of them. From the factory, the little hatch cranked a breathy 112 horsepower from the most robust form of its 1.8-liter four-cylinder engine. Boba motoring, however, has taken that figure and multiplied it by a factor of nearly 10. If 1,000 horsepower sounds terrifying in a machine with a wheelbase of just 94.5 inches, it should. A massive Garrett GTX4202R turbo force-feeds the little mill through a tweaked 16-valve KR head. The crew calls the beast the 16Vampir, and we think that's fitting.
Of course, we'd wager you quit reading right about the time you set your eyes on that headline. Those of you who've stuck around this long can point yourselves below to see the maniacal creation in action. You won't be disappointed.