Spotter's Guide To The September Issue of Road&Track

"Well, of course you have to lift for that in the R8." That was what I was told by a very experienced, well-respected driver whose racing resume absolutely dwarfs mine. And I think that any experienced, well-respected auto racer would have agreed.

The problem is that I'm actually a BMX racer who just happens to be racing cars because his knees make audible grinding sounds when he walks. So of course I didn't lift, and of course the R8 landed sideways at one hundred and twenty-four miles per hour, and of course I want you to read the magazine and see what happened next...

Sam Smith called me about writing for Road&Track on October 17 of 2012. That's what my phone says, anyway. From the beginning I had some concerns about the idea of working for a major print rag. Would they let me be honest and forthright about the cars I drove? Would I eventually be completely seduced by the perks and the trips and the ego-trippin' ecstasy of seeing my work on the cover of a magazine?

Oh we're big autowriters Like those English blighters And we're all past middle age. We write about driving Down the Stelvio Pass At two thousand dollars a page. We wear Piloti shoes In red, black or blue When we're holding people up on the track But the best kind of treat is When you get your feature On the cover of the Road and Track.

Road and Track... Wanna see my Neon on the cover Track... Wanna send five copies to my brother Track... Wanna see my hairy head On the cover of the Road and Track!

Most of my fears have gone unrealized. It's true that some of the more outrageous and/or offensive work that I've submitted to the magazine has fallen prey to the editor's red pen. Maybe that's for the best. If you let an artist of any type just do whatever the hell he wants, then half of the time you wind up with Zero Tolerance For Silence. I've also occasionally failed to deliver the most "Baruthian" article possible --- sometimes that's because I'm consciously trying to emulate one of the autowriters I admired when I was a child. Still other times I've written things at the very last minute, like Samuel Johnson penning Rambler 134 while the printer's copy-boy waited in the hall.

With very few exceptions, most of which you my readers could probably accurately guess without any further hints from me, I haven't had much difficulty working with the automakers. There are a few companies that will specify "anybody but Jack Baruth" when they send an invite. I consider that to be the highest possible form of praise when it comes for a public-relations person. Fuck 'em. A coward dies a thousand deaths.

So let's talk about two companies that had the guts to let me drive their $200,000 cars around Summit Point's concrete-lined Shenandoah course at the maximum possible* pace. Audi and McLaren both had confidence in their products. That confidence was largely justified. It was a real thrill for me to soar through the air in both of these stellar supercars.

Yes, the test has a winner; if you want to read a test where everybody gets a participation trophy, there are a few magazines on the newsstands next to this one where that's always going to happen. One of these cars was discernibly more satisfying than the other. But I'd be personally satisfied with either car. And I hope you'll take the time to buy, and read, this issue. It's the third major comparison I've put in R&T in as many months and although I occasionally find it a bit wearying to keep up this pace I'm not going to stop until they fire me or kill me.

As always, thank you for reading.

* Maximum possible for me, anyway --- but can YOU turn a 1:36 on the extended Shenandoah course?