According to a recent survey conducted by Deloitte Consulting Services, 57 percent of Generation Y-ers were most interested in hybrids, while only 37 percent favored gas-only cars. (The other 2 percent preferred electric-only cars.) Yes, Gen Y favors hybrids over gas-powered cars by a 3:2 margin.

Now, if there were an equal number of high-performance hybrids and high-performance gas-powered cars, we wouldn’t be all that concerned. But except for a handful of exceptions, the hybrid cars of today are boring as hell. Even those hybrids that don’t suck only look good in comparison to other hybrids. A Porsche Panamera Hybrid may be fun, but if you wouldn’t take the Panamera Turbo over it, you’ve been sucking the crack pipe.

Then again, there have always been plenty of people who saw driving more as a chore than an avocation—it’s not exactly a Generation Y-specific characteristic. If you just see driving the way most of us see washing dishes or doing the laundry, a hybrid should seem just as appealing as a conventionally-powered car—more, even, what with the reduced fuel usage and added smugness. If Gen Y’s preference for hybrids was the only alarm bell here, we could discount it.

But more irritatingly, people born between 1981 and 1993 also seem to have a desire to load up their cars with technology that’ll distract them from the road. They’re willing to fork over more than $3,000 on automotive electronics that connect them to their social networks. 59 percent consider the in-dash tech as the most important part of the vehicle’s interior (who needs a steering wheel?), and nearly three-quarters of the survey’s respondents wanted touch screens in their cars.

To compensate for all this in-car touch-screen social media madness, though, members of Generation Y also want technology to save them from the obvious result of distracted driving—a crash. They’re willing to spend another two grand on active safety measures like blind spot detection and other collision avoidance systems. “It’s almost as if they’re saying ‘I’m going to be distracted, so I want the car to give me protection from myself,’” Deloitte’s Craig Giffi said. “They’re wholly acknowledging that distracted driving is an issue but they’re not saying that they want to be any less connected in the car.”

Look, we get that you can’t put the technological genie back in the bottle—just like the rest of our lives, cars are going to become increasingly connected to the Internet. But the more distant and remote society makes the act of driving, the less people will treat it with the seriousness it deserves.

Wanna know one of the main reasons there are an awful lot less plane crashes than automotive accidents? Because you have to train you ass off to become a pilot. You spend hundreds of hours having the importance of what you’re doing drilled into your head. Your average American driver spends maybe twenty hours in driver’s ed during the midst of his or her hormonally-distracted teenage years.

We need to encourage people to take driving more seriously, not endlessly accommodate their desire to make it a secondary reason to be in the car. And it has to start with Generation Y, because the bad habits they learn today will be causing havoc for the next half-century or more.

Either that, or we need to perfect the self-driving car, constrain all those people who want them to the major highways, and leave the B-roads to those of us who love driving. We’d be cool with that. [via Automotive News]

True story: When we took the 2012 Mercedes-Benz CLS63 AMG with Performance Package out to our undisclosed location last year for a play date with the Nissan GT-R, I was struck by just how fast the damn AMG was. Literally, struck. The first time I pegged the accelerator, my skull whacked against the leather-wrapped headrest hard enough to knock loose repressed memories from high school.

It wasn’t that surprising, really—with the performance pack, the CLS63′s M157 twin turbo V8 cranks out 550 horsepower and 590 lb-ft of torque—enough grunt to drag Trident ballistic missile submarines out of the water, and more raw power than the 2012 GT-R we brought along. But the CLS63 weighs in at 4,277 pounds—448 more than the 530 horsepower, 448 lb-ft GT-R. (Plus, Michael Crenshaw was driving the GT-R most of the time, and I outweigh him by at least 35 pounds.)

Like you’d expect, from a standing start, the GT-R’s all-wheel-drive traction gave it an unassailable advantage over the RWD CLS63. But once the cars got above 50 or 60 miles per hour…Godzilla couldn’t put any more space between itself and the Merc if the Benz was driven by Roland Emmerich hell-bent on catching him for an even shittier sequel to that 1998 disaster. And when we gave the CLS63 an (accidental) half-second head start on one run, it stayed in front all the way to the finish line.

What gives? The GT-R runs a power-to weight ratio of 7.13 pounds per horsepower. The CLS63 carries 7.69 lbs/hp. The Benz’s gears are shorter, but its final drive ratio is longer. I couldn’t dig up a coefficient of drag for the Benz, but I doubt it’s better than the GT-R’s 0.26. So the Mercedes’ near-equivalent performance doesn’t make sense…

…unless AMG isn’t being entirely honest about the M157′s output.

Which, it appears, they’re not. In fact, I believe they’re underreporting it.

The evidence: two separate dynamometer tests performed on cars powered by Performance Package-equipped M157 V8s. The first one was performed by Edmunds Inside Line on a 2011 S63 AMG. In the S63 with PP, AMG rates the M157 at 563 horsepower and 664 lb-ft, so there’s a sign right off that the M157 has more to give than the CLS63 claims. But here’s the kicker: IL’s test found the S63 made 537 horsepower and 611 lb-ft at the wheels. Assuming the usual 15 percent drivetrain power loss, their M157 was making around 630 horsepower and 720 lb-ft of torque at the crank. Yeah.

But while that’s handy background information, it’s hardly definite proof—the Inside Line test was of a different model, and besides, automakers have been known to plug ringers into their press fleets. Ideally, a test of a privately-purchased CLS63 would provide us with a better look—and what do you know, RENNTech happens to have just that.

On their dyno, the CLS63 AMG w/PP laid down 516 horsepower and 545 lb-ft of torque. Again, assuming 15 percent drivetrain loss, this works out to about 610 horsepower and 640 lb-ft of torque at the crankshaft—60 more horsepower and 50 more lb-ft than Mercedes-Benz says.

Assuming the RENNTech car wasn’t an outlier (and the Inside Line test suggests it isn’t) and it serves as a suitable example of the breed, the average CLS63 AMG with Performance Package makes about 11 percent more horsepower and nine percent more torque than its official rating. Is that enough to let a two-plus ton luxury sedan run with a technological marvel of a sports car? My gut says oh, yeah.

So the next time you see a new AMG rolling down the highway, give the driver a salute. Odds are good he doesn’t even know how much power he’s got at his disposal. It’ll be our little secret that we share with the engineers at AMG. And bravo to them (and to Mercedes-Benz) for building cars that promise great things, but deliver even greater things.

I call it the Porsche 911 Obsession Cycle.

It starts simply enough: Porsche announces a new version of the 911, either just in the form of a new Carrera, or as a base Carrera and either a Carrera 4 or a Carrera S. Even though the high-performance versions of the last-generation models are still available, they suddenly seem antiquated, boring, and common. “The new [insert generation here] is just so sexy,” I’ll say. “It’s so clean and streamlined…and they’ve done such a great job modernizing the styling without losing touch with the past. I think it’s the best-looking 911 ever.”

Shortly thereafter, the next variants arrive—either the all-wheel-drive Carrera 4, or the more powerful Carrera S, whichever version wasn’t revealed at the car’s launch. Now the new variant is all I can think about. “Oh, man, the new Carrera 4/Carrera S is so much more usable/sporty than the regular car,” I’ll tell anyone who’ll listen.

“The all-wheel-drive lets you use it all year long, and it gives it even more grip in the turns,” I’ll say if I’m talking about the C4. If I’m discussing the S, I’ll throw in something like, “The extra power knocks the acceleration times down a few tenths, but it’s not really about the raw numbers; the larger engine gives the car more usable power no matter where you are in the rev range.”

A year or two later, Porsche rolls out the new 911 Turbo, which is right around the time in the cycle people start telling me to switch to decaf. “It’s a MASTERPIECE!” I’ll shout, even in the middle of a funeral. “More power, sure, but even more than that—check out all these new technologies Porsche’s using to extract every ounce of performance potential! It’s a gran turismo, it’s a supercar, it’s a marvel, it’s a miracle!”

Somewhere around the same time, Porsche takes the wrapping paper off the new 911 GT3, which inspires a similar level of slathering devotion. “It’s lighter and simpler, but more powerful, and it’s got that classic rear-wheel-drive layout, so it’s even more fun to drive when you push it to its limits!” I’ll cry, loudly enough that the entire theatre turns and gives me a bad look—even the actors on stage.

A year or two after that, out comes the 911 GT2, and my therapist starts to regret taking me on as a patient. “It’s the love child of the Turbo and GT3—the Turbo motor and body style, but stripped-down and rear-wheel-drive only! It’s the true heir to the massive snap-oversteering 930 Turbo! All those other 911s are for wimps! This is the one that beats them all back with an iron stick! Haters and fools need not apply!”

Then comes the GT3 RS—the car that sends me into a spiral of raving madness the likes of which are usually reserved for the unlucky characters in an H.P. Lovecraft tale. “IT’S SO STRIPPED DOWN!!!” I’ll scream from behind the locked door of my room, where my family has sealed me in with several volumes of Christophorus magazine until the hysteria passes. “THEY THREW OUT THE RADIO AND THE AIR CONDITIONER! AND STILL THEY GAVE IT MORE POWER! IT’S A ROAD CAR WITH A ROLL CAGE, FOR GOD’S SAKE! A ROOOOOLL CAAAAAGE!!!”

Then sometimes, just when the obsession doesn’t seem as though it can go any further, Porsche reveals the 911 GT2 RS. It’s only happened once, and at this point in the cycle, my memory goes fuzzy, so I can’t honestly tell you firsthand how I react to Porsche’s most powerful, most race-ready 911. All I can tell you is that when the car reached the U.S., I was found found naked, scratched and coated in mud inside the Porsche dealership at 3 a.m., face pressed against the fender of the GT2 RS in weeping supplication. The police said they’d never seen anyone punch through an inch-thick wall of safety glass before.

And then Porsche begins cranking out an endless series of minor variants, and things start to cool down. With every GTS and Black Edition and Speedster that rolls off the line, I come down a bit from my high. They’re still exciting—after all, they’re Porsche 911s—but they don’t offer enough to really grab my attention the way the old models did. I begin reclaiming my old life. Things start to seem normal again.

And then a new 911 shows up, and the whole cycle starts all over again.

Funny things happen when you’re 17. Aside from the awkward female encounters and complete lack of judgment, being that age affords you mistakes you may appreciate down the road (no pun intended). I had what I’m going to define as a “911 moment.” If you aren’t aware what that is, well, it’s basically the feeling you get in your stomach, chest and brain whilst being rotated in an unfamiliar pendulum full of rear-biased slip. It happens quickly and deliberately, especially in an older 911 variant. I was unfamiliar with lift-off oversteer—frankly, driving in general—but in some sort of family-filled haze, I was handed the keys to a 930 Turbo pushing just north of 400 horsepower. The occurrence lives vividly in some weird little corner of my memory, not because I was a lucky prick (which I was) piloting one of the great sports cars, but also because of an 80 mph powerslide that remains freakishly relevant every time I step foot into a 911 and release the throttle. It’s a small reminder of what will happen if you lift mid-corner in a 911 going flat out. However, with the new 911, another funny thing happened when attempting the same mistake: absolutely nothing.

Fading from 8,000 rpm and barreling toward a second-gear hairpin, the 3.8-liter horizontal six—violently crackling, snarling and sounding plain disgusted by the lack of a 3-4 upshift—is a buttery exotic, and in the context of a 911’s flight path, you’ll actually have time to salivate over it (now offering 350hp in Carrera guise and 400hp in the Carrera S). Instead of setting yourself up in typical rear-engine 911 fashion, obsessing (extremely franticly) over the perfect way to approach the entry and departure angles without turning the rear-biased tail into a 3,000-pound Porsche mace, you’re through the turn without the slightest hint of “what could’ve been.” Instead you’re left with “WTF didn’t happen?”

It’s quite amazing, really. Just as the Nissan GT-R defies physics from a Butterbean standpoint, the new 911, with the engine moved rearward and a wheelbase increase of 100 mm (roughly four inches), is unshakable and accurate with grip. Relinquishing the throttle of its duty mid-turn no longer requires you to pucker up; the new 911 simply shifts weight, settles and moves along. In the hands of a skilled driver, this 911 will do more for you than ever before. Porsche Torque Vectoring (PTV), which is standard in the Carrera S, systematically makes minor braking adjustments on the inside rear wheel depending on steering angle, making the Porsche pivot with greater ease. You won’t ever feel the system working, but in terms of getting you through the turn, it just works. Also, an 80-kilogram weight reduction over outgoing models surely helps as well.

Steering feel: The one new addition to the 2012 model year Porsche that I wanted to try for myself was the new electro-mechanical steering. For obvious reasons, skepticism and doubt entered the mind of someone who has driven mostly every Porsche 911 variant from the ’60s to present and had been fascinated with how responsive and direct they were. I wasn’t exactly thinking an electrically boosted rack would “ruin” the steering (Porsche knows better than to release something that would aggravate purists, and they’ve spent enough research on it) but wondering if the addition of another “system” would mitigate the feel. My first reaction was that on-center feel felt somewhat off. In 911s of old, the on-center feel was frantic, almost twitchy—road imperfections, bumps and mostly anything not smooth would cause tramlining and bump—but in the 911 there’s a calm. Transition left to right and it’s smooth as glass, and that prototypical 911 “jump” when making left/right transitions is gone. After that, however, in typical Porsche fashion, the steering provides sensation that lets you know where you’re at in the range at all times. Steering feel is good—damn good—though more drama could be included. Waiting for the GT3, Porsche.

The 7-speed manual is a funky kind of cool. You can show off to your friends how many cogs you have and also get great gas mileage. EPA numbers still aren’t out, but think somewhere in the 30s on the highway. The only caveat was that 5th to 6th shifts sometimes got caught in the gate because there’s a slight downward-right angle, and 6th to 5th double de-clutch upshifts would do the same when pushed fast without the right accuracy.

The new 911 is impressive and also grown up. It’s a batch of honey mixed with gravel—sweet enough to salivate over—and when you put the power down, it plays rough to your heart’s content. It has refined with age. Not once during testing was I nervous about making a mistake, which, in some circles, could be considered a shortcoming for the 911. Times have changed since the times when naively jumping into a 911 without the correct procedure would’ve resulted in very bad things, and the rear-engined stigmata associated with it has been distanced. Porsche has an amazing car on their hands that firmly represents 911 lineage and maintains itself as one of the greatest sports cars of all time.

Bonus: Check out the 2012 Porsche 911 Carrera S’s launch control powers below.

So let’s get rid of them.

Because in most cases, speed limits are just a tool used to unjustly punish a certain segment of society: people who like to drive fast.

Between modern day road materials and current automotive technologies—brakes, engines, suspensions, tires, headlamps, and so forth—cars can safely exceed the legal limits set on almost every road in the United States. The only thing holding us back are the speed limits—limits that, in many cases, are equal to those in existence fifty years ago.

Automotive technology has advanced tremendously in that time, making cars faster and safer—yet here we are being forced to drive at the same speeds our grandparents did. It’s not because of safety, in spite of what the government says. It’s because it’s a money machine.

That’s not just a grumpy anti-government statement, it’s a fact. Economists have proven towns having trouble meeting their budget are more likely to issue you a traffic ticket than those in good fiscal shape. And with many local municipalities finding themselves up Fiscal Shit Creek with nary a paddle in sight these days, many have taken to increasing traffic fines. When a cop hands you a ticket, it’s far more about how much money the area needs than about whether or not you were traveling at an unsafe velocity.

So let’s just take a minute and imagine what a world without speed limits would be like. Any actual dangerous activity that might be committed while driving is already outlawed by reckless driving laws and the like: speeding in populated areas, passing at unsafe speeds, driving uncontrollably fast in poor weather, and so on and so forth. This kind of behavior—the kind that puts people in severe danger of hurting or killing someone—would be just as illegal as it is today.

In fact, now that a greater emphasis is being placed on drivers’ decision-making abilities rather than their ability to simply and slavishly follow road sign directions, these laws could be beefed up to further emphasize the driver’s responsibility to make good decisions. The rules would be simple: Go fast when it’s safe, and you’re fine. Go fast when it’s dangerous, and you’re in big trouble.

An increased emphasis on preventing reckless driving and other unsafe behaviors (such as texting while driving) also means police departments don’t need to worry about laying off employees because they’ll suddenly have less to do. There will still be plenty of people out there breaking the law behind the wheel and in need of a good dose of the fear of God, courtesy of Mr. State Trooper.

Worried about the safety factor? Well, stop. Contrary to what you hear from all those law enforcement lobbyists and fear-mongering politicians, speed does not kill. Want proof? Here’s some evidence to chew on: between 1995 and 1999, Montana exercised no numerical speed limit on most rural roads, instead requiring drivers to simply use “reasonable and prudent” speed. The accident count and death toll dropped. Come the summer of ’99, the state reimplemented speed limits…and the accident rate began to climb again.

In fact—and this is just me speaking from personal experience here—I find that I’m a safer driver when I’m going faster. Rolling along a quiet highway at a steady 74 mph, I get too accustomed to what you’re doing, my mind starts to wander, and I find myself noticing all those deer along the roadside a lot later than I should. When I’m driving fast, however, I turn into Sebastian Vettel. Eyes locked on the road far ahead. Starting to enter a curve; brake gently, start to turn, squeeze on the power. Check the mirrors. Straightaway—hit the throttle. Scan the roadside. Debris in lane ahead, one hundred yards—move right. Slower-moving vehicle ahead, three hundred yards—blinker on, check mirrors, check blind spot, move to left lane…

When you’re driving as quickly as you feel comfortable going, your mind is devoting all its attention to the task of piloting the car. When you go slowly, though, the conscious brain grows bored and hands the driving baton off to the older, unconscious part—the reptilian complex, if you will. How many alligators do you know who you’d trust to drive you around?

Perhaps you’re worried about the limits of human perception at high speeds. What if someone just can’t stop in time? Well, technology could be used to help improve the safety of traveling at high speeds. Car-to-car and car-to-infrastructure communication networks are already being planned for the autonomous roads of tomorrow; instead of just being used as an active replacement for the driver’s eyes and ears, these could be used as a passive means of extending a driver’s own senses, notifying the driver to vehicles and potential problems located far beyond what he or she can see.

Technological super-senses for the enthusiast of tomorrow would go a long way towards pacifying the public towards the apparent dangers of high-speed driving…not to mention allow us to push the performance envelope even further than it stretches today. But that’s a thought for another time.

But as we established earlier, speed limits ultimately aren’t about public safety—they’re about revenue. So how would such a plan to abolish them ever make it past lawmakers? Simple: pass an alternative plan that brings in the same amount of money as speeding tickets do.

Now, some have suggested those who want to drive faster should be allowed to purchase a “license to speed;” in essence, paying for those tickets up front instead of post-paying them. But that’s not an acceptable solution. It’s little more than a get-out-of-jail-free card for the wealthy who can afford such a license (and the higher insurance rates likely to tag along with it), while everyday folks unable to pony up big bucks every year or two for the special license are still stuck dealing with points, fines and the potential loss of their license.

So here’s my alternative: a small road tax based on vehicle weight, payable to your local municipality. (This is hardly a new idea; New York, for example, already charges a tax based on vehicle weight.) America’s roads today are in miserable shape, and without renewed investment in them, they’ll only continue to deteriorate.

Basing the tax on vehicle weight provides several benefits. The more a vehicle weighs, the more damage it exacts on the roads, thus making it more responsible for the condition of the roads. It also encourages drivers to choose lighter vehicles, which not only benefits enthusiasts who subscribe to the Colin Chapman School Of Automotive Anorexia, but helps the environment as well—lighter cars burn less gas, require less raw materials, and leave less garbage behind when their life runs out.

And by spreading this tax out across all drivers, instead of concentrating it solely on the small percentage of people who break the speed limit, the average amount paid out per vehicle per year would be much less than the average speeding ticket, but it would still earn more money overall than speeding tickets currently do.

So there you go: Get rid of speed limits, replace them with a modest road-use tax based on vehicle weight, and everyone wins. Local governments win, because they’re still making just as much money as before. The public wins, because roads would be safer. And we car lovers win, because we could finally open up our cars the way they were meant to be driven.

[Pictured: Montana speed limit sign, from the 1995-1999 glory days.]

Feel differently? Let us know below.

Ford has been doing it right lately — they are everywhere. Whether it’s a new car with ridiculous efficiency or pro drivers winning championships in their vehicles, Ford’s in it. Whoever’s in charge of their marketing division has been making solid decisions, because the end of the day, consumer involvement is everything. But these are just the boring facts, the real story here is Octane Academy, and whether it’s going to be a badass test of driving prowess or some lame advertising schtick.

Fortunately enough, 0-60 was invited to the media invitational. This event was meant for a handful of media personalities to get down and dirty with a taste of what the Octane Academy has to offer when it really gets going in the near future. Basically, there are four camps, revolving around the talents of each of Ford’s celebrity drivers: Ken Block, Vaughn Gittin Jr., Tanner Foust and Brian Deegan. The novelty here is that each camp is designed by the drivers, not some Ford safety inspector, making sure the ABS doesn’t fail or you don’t exceed 40mph. It’s the real deal.

We started our day at MPG (Michigan Proving Grounds). If you’ve never been here, you should try to break through the gates. The facility is endless and offers up terrain to test any situation you’d run into, ever. Also seems like a solid location for Block’s next Gymkhana video…just sayin’.

I started out with Deegan in the Ford F-150 Raptor. He took me for a hot lap while the course was still loose from the previous days rain. The best part about this ride-along was that Deegan was having a fucking blast. He was literally laughing and screaming to me that he didn’t know if he had it on some turns. We almost hit a skunk and got all four wheels off the ground three times. It’s nice to see these guys outside of competition, just doing what they love. Deegan is a kid living the dream.

It would have been nice if the competitive portion was to drive something remotely similar to what the hot lap was, but instead it was a challenge, using only the reverse camera to travel backward through a cone course on dirt. I gunned it and hit a cone and whoever the woman was in the passenger’s seat, I’m sorry about your neck.

Next up was the skid pad with Tanner Foust. Ford prepared a Focus for us with all the electronics disconnected, and on a surface meant to simulate ice, horsepower wasn’t something we needed. Foust instructed us to complete a full 360 and a reverse 180. It’s harder than it looks, but he’s patient enough to walk you through it. Still, I wasn’t really feeling the adrenaline I was expecting from the Octane Academy. No worries, though, there were still two more challenges.

Ah… Ken Block. Ken realized he wasn’t much of a teacher at the event, and for the better, he stuck to giving hot laps in an R2 Fiesta on a rally course set-up by Team O’Neil Rally School. Ken is an animal, even when he’s out of his comfort zone piloting a front wheel-drive hatch. We were given Fiestas set up with a mostly gutted interior and roll bars, along with some good gravel tires. Tim O’Neil did the instructing for us. Providing simple pointers for transitions through the slalom, braking points and counter-steering. It’s really no surprise he does this for a living. People who could barely drive stick were getting it down after two laps, and it wasn’t a walk in the park either. One journalist actually crashed, but luckily everyone was unharmed.

We were told to lap the course in around 2:20. This seemed unreasonably slow, but I drove within reason and landed a 2:07 without hitting any cones. It took me two laps to realized I have a soft spot for dirt, and that tarmac is overrated. I’ll be heading up to the Team O’Neil Rally School as soon as I can. Finally, my heart rate was up.

We headed over to Vaughn’s challenge, back on the dry side of the skid pad. If you’re an enthusiast, you love parking lots. And when I saw this enormous patch of concrete with absolutely no obstructions, I was happier than ever. It’s the simple things. First, Vaughn proved that the V6 Mustang was capable of 90mph drifts, which I’ll admit, was pretty impressive. For us journalists though, we head to initiate a drift in an automatic 2012 Mustang GT. Toss the selector into first gear, listen to Vaughn next to you, get the revs up to about 4000rpm, flick right then left, floor it to break the tires loose, ease up to gain control and counter-steer while pedaling back on the throttle to create a controlled drift around a giant circle of cones. Easy, right?

We had a few practice runs that didn’t count to get a feel for the car and how to get sideways and hold it there, instead of just flooring it and spinning out. I got around the circle twice in practice, which I found out was more than anyone had gotten all day. Now, I’m not tooting my own horn here. I’m just saying, most journalists kind of suck behind the wheel, but are really good at writing like they know how to drive at the limit.

For the one that counted, I botched my first attempt with not enough throttle, resulting in some understeer. Vaughn asked me if I wanted instruction and I just told him to yell at me if it was necessary. The pressure was on, this was my last chance to nail it. I lined back up, rolled out, stepped on it and kicked the ass out, held it and kept going. Vaughn was screaming, “Stay in it! Stay in it!” He was laughing and waving his hands around like a maniac. After the first four times around it kind of felt like the Mustang was just doing what it needed to for me. I never knew drifting was so fun, and these are just glorified donuts. After the seventh full loop I got out of it and had a grin so big it hurt to be confined in my helmet. This is the Octane Academy I was looking for, turned out I landed first place for the event, too. I swear I’m humble, but winning is as good or better than sex, or maybe I’m just too competitive.

All this in a day. It was a hit, and we only got a taste of what the selected competitors will get over four days in each camp. I have a feeling Ford is doing it right, and this is going to be bigger than they imagined. If only I was allowed to compete… I’d totally accept the invite though.

Check out www.octaneacademy.com for more info. And thanks to Ford, Monster Energy, Rockstar Energy, Vaughn, Ken, Brian and Tanner for putting on such a solid event.

Ayrton Senna was a legend. He was one of the greatest Formula One racing drivers in history—that’s not my ruling, that’s the verdict of 217 world championship drivers. His statistics are legendary: 41 F1 wins, 65 pole positions, three world championships, so on and so forth. Along with James Dean, he was a member of that exclusive clique of racing drivers who drove fast, died young, and totally looked like James Franco. We knew all that before we watched Senna, and odds are good you know it too.

But Senna the documentary isn’t about the accomplishments of Ayrton Senna, the racing driver. Senna is about the religious man whose belief in God—and his belief that God believed in him—powered the confidence behind his incredible career. It’s about the Brazilian man who, instead of forsaking his allegiance to his third-world country of origin, embraced his homeland and made its citizens proud to be Brazilian. It’s about the forthright man who, for better or worse, always spoke his mind and refused to play politics or childish games, even at the expense of his own career.

Senna isn’t a racing story. It’s a human story, with a wonderfully flawed, eminently relatable protagonist. It’s been rendered with incredible love and care, too. Director Asif Kapadia and his team have assembled a documentary composed entirely of original footage, tying individual scenes together using the voiceovers of Senna’s family, friends and rivals instead of cutting to static shots of his closest acquaintances reflecting on the driver’s life. For the film’s 106 minutes, it follows Senna like an omniscient narrator every step of the way, in order to paint as honest a picture of its subject as it can.

Formula One fanaticism isn’t required to appreciate the film, but Senna provides a special treat for F1 fans: the footage from the races is phenomenal. The opportunity to see an F1 race on a movie screen and hear the wail of the engines in theater-quality surround sound doesn’t come along very often. To be honest, I’d recommend this film even if the fifty percent of it that takes place outside the car was garbage, just to have the chance to watch and listen to the races. But luckily, I don’t have to do that, because Senna is the sort of movie that hits you harder than you think it will, and haunts you long after the lights come up. See it.

Senna opens August 12th in New York City and Los Angeles. For locations and dates near you, check out the Senna page on Facebook.