A lesser George Thorogood track drifted down from distant overhead speakers. It wasn’t Bad to the Bone or Move It On Over, but there was still a growling saxophone solo at some point to compete with the vaguely game-show stock music obliviously beckoning attendees to the Chevrolet booth. An enthusiastic rep bid us get our smartphones ready for a fun game. “Meet me over here at the Corvette in two minutes!” She was unconcerned at her lack of audience.
Perhaps I’m being too harsh. It was about 10:30 on Thursday, the first full day of the 2020 Kansas City Auto Show. It was never going to be crowded with slavering enthusiasts. It was never that kind of auto show. Koenigsegg will never slip a sheet off its bonkers Gemera family hypercar in Kansas City. It will do that somewhere like Geneva. Ironically, the Geneva Motor Show, the most prestigious show of the year, was scheduled for this weekend, but was cancelled over Coronavirus concerns. Can someone call Christian Von Koenigsegg and tell him we have some floor space in KC?
No, the KCAS is mostly a dealership showcase, a chance for the populace to come out and poke around, sit in a few sports cars, and try not to make eye contact with salespeople and industry reps. I folded into a few new cars myself.
The first was a Mazda Miata RF (Retractable Fastback) in a red so beautiful it nearly stole my soul. I think the RF is one of the most visually appealing new cars on the market right now. It just happens to cost under 30 grand. Mazda is one of the few automakers who can still make a great looking car amidst cloying safety and aero regulations.
Moving on, I found my gaze fixed on a Toyota GT86, slathered in British Racing Green and bedecked with dark gold wheels. I stepped over the seat bolster, closed the door, and reached for the shifter— except it was an automatic. AN AUTOM—
Waves, waves on the beach. A warm breeze. Calm. It doesn’t matter that an automatic GT86 shouldn’t even exist. I digress... Onward.
But I had been fooled. A dealership porter had unscrewed the slushbox’s shift knob, a procedure often used solely for manual cars to prevent vape-sticky miscreants from slipping away from the show with free souvenirs. Ironically, my first trip to the show was in 2012, just before the GT86, then the Scion FR-S, went up for sale. They had one, but it was belted off. Eyes only. The shift knob had been removed.
So now kids are stealing the automatic shift knobs, too? It’s like they don’t know. It’s like no one in the line for Ford’s circular-actuating, panoramic racing sim even understands that it would be more fun with more pedals.
But why would they? These new cars are so shiny. There’s metallic fleck in every paint job. Toyota has a pace car at their booth. Sure, it’s a Camry, but it has three hundred horsepower. That’s a big number, and it’s the numbers that count, right? Paddle shifters are tenths of a second faster than manuals, and numbers matter. Sales figures. Zero-to-sixty times. Ponies under that hood.
Perhaps there’s another way to view new cars, beyond the cold, dead math. Can we return to evaluating cars based on the emotions they stir, rather than the talking points they raise?
If you’ve made it this far, you’ll know that I’m a manual transmission apologist, but it’s not just that character-defining component the industry is missing at the moment. As I rode the escalator into the cavernous vault of the convention center, I could already hear the Chevy rep excitedly evangelizing about the C8 Corvette’s incredible ability to— raise its nose when hopping speed bumps. The Chevrolet Corvette. One of America’s first sports cars. Le Mans Winner. Now fully evolved into a mid-engine supercar with Ferrari performance, bladed styling, and a mass market price tag. And you’re thrilling your audience with speed bump protection?
It’s a smart feature. The car is packed with smart features. But is soul among them? Does it have an identity? There’s no real answer, but an individual car’s identity seems to be less of a priority lately, shouldered aside by utility. Every car must do everything. So the Miata I sat in must have super comfy seats that nonetheless put my eyeline at the top of the windshield frame. The Camry must have the performance of a Supra from 20 years ago while carrying the whole family. The GT86 must be accessible to people who don’t understand the manual. And the C8 Corvette must appeal to people just as concerned about speed bumps as clipping apexes.
In another 20 years, when every new car rolls on the same electric skateboard, will it really matter which one you buy? Some might have truck beds or lower ride heights or fewer doors, but they’ll all have nearly the same identity.
I’m actually looking forward to it. The only way out is through. I envision a future in which new, anonymous cars become so prevalent that a desire for simpler, older-style, unique cars will arise around the fringes of the car world. They might just be a novelty, artisan autos for the hipsters of the future. They certainly won’t win any races, and they’ll sell in far smaller numbers than the average commuter. But smaller sales may relax federal regulations, just as kit cars are less regulated today, and that could go a long way toward keeping their costs low. Whatever they look like, they’ll be focused, identified, full of soul. Each car will have its own unique focus: stirring emotion in the driver.
Before I left, I stuck my head in the open window of a 1961 Porsche 365 Coupe, part of a larger Porsche heritage display. I inhaled. The simple interior smelled old, storied. Like your grandfather’s baseball glove, dug from the dusty cedar chest in the attic. I floated in its ancient embrace for a moment, transported to a European dirt road and the frantic fury of some forgotten, barely-sanctioned rally. We snap-oversteered around a switchback and sped on.
Our Favorite Part of the Kansas City Auto Show | Zohr
