performance

The Difference Between A Car Enthusiast And An EV Fanboy…

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Ferrari has decided to stick with internal combustion engines rather than join the crowd.  The famed Italian supercar manufacturer is known for its shrieking V8 and V10 engines.  And, despite government pressure, will not force electric drivetrains onto their customers.  The sound is, after all, a big part of what makes them a Ferrari.

Under the article, there was a comment “a Ferrari that doesn’t win races isn’t a Ferrari” and went on to suggest that the tune would change “when their $600,000 works of art start getting blown away by an electric minivan full of kids, driven by a soccer mom sipping a latte and talking to her mom about her test results, and towing two jet skis.”

If owning a Ferrari was about winning illegal drag races, redlight to redlight, this is a valid point.  Obviously, being formidably fast is part of the supercar equation and electric does have a significant torque advantage right off the line.  Nobody who spent half a million on a vehicle wants to be dusted by a minivan full of kids.

The van was faster and legend is, in the book of Things That Never Happened, the guy with the McLaren traded it for the modded Honda.

However, the problem with this argument is that there are already muscle cars that will beat a Ferrari in a straight-line race.  And many mundane cars can be modified or tuned to at least give a supercar a run for their money.  But that’s not the point.  Nobody is going to trade their F50 for a Civic with a big turbocharger.  Why is that?

First of all, what it takes to win a drag race is completely different from being competitive in the 24 hours of LeMans.  

Currently, there is no EV in the world that has the kind of endurance to go full bore (or coil) for as long as a real track car.  The Tesla P100DL can only last a lap and a half before it must be pitted due to the batteries overheating.  But the main problem is simply that batteries do not store enough energy and take far too long to recharge to be viable in competition.

The huge advantage of petroleum is energy density.  This means both extended range and also lightweight.  This translates to better driving dynamics, and less demand (or wear) on brakes and tires, which is key to winning races.

And there is no magic wand that will solve these massive drawbacks of EVs either.  It’s just how the chemistry and physics work out.

Secondly, most people who drive a Ferrari aren’t racing them nor do they need to own the fastest car on the road.  They own the car for the same reason that a person buys a painting rather than a photograph.  Sure, the image a cell phone can produce is much more realistic than the artwork, but arguing that this makes a van Gogh worthless is silliness.  

Or, more to the point, a true aviation enthusiast isn’t going to turn down a ride in a P-51 Mustang arguing that commercial airliners are fast or that the jet engine made that V12 Merlin obsolete.  Sure, the car may have replaced the horse, but that doesn’t mean that everyone who enjoys these beautiful animals is Amish or a Luddite.  No, rather they enjoy the experience of riding a horse, being near something with a personality, breathing and majestic.

A pure driving experience is not about only the performance stats on paper.  No, it is about way more than that.  It is about how it feels.

There’s a reason why Mazda Miatas are a favorite and it had nothing to do with being able to blow the doors off all comers.  It was about those intangibles.  A combination of size and handling makes a driver’s car.

My Shelby GT-350 isn’t the fastest Mustang on the road.  The manual transmission makes it slower than it could be with the latest automatics.  But there is just something glorious about the whole experience that was not matched during my test drive of a similarly powered Mustang Mach-E. 

Sure, EV fanboys may only care about the 0-60 numbers.  But, if that’s all it is about, then why not buy the theoretical future EV minivan that accelerates like a top fuel dragster while pulling jet skis?  It’s much more practical than a Ferrari.  Why pay a premium for a less capable vehicle?

A car enthusiast knows the answer. They know why the old guy in the neighborhood putters around in their Model T Ford and they also understand why someone restores a vintage Porsche that’s not even a match for a family sedan. 

There’s no way to rank fine art.  It is all subjective, finesse and balance, what does it for you, those who want to turn everything into some kind of adolescent tool measuring contest don’t get it—they never will.

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Performance Anxieties and Worship

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The Mennonite culture I am a part of has had a tradition of music that spans a few generations.  The tradition is acapella congregational singing (typically in four parts: soprano, alto, tenor, bass) and hymn music.  It is my preference, it is what I am accustomed to and comfortable singing in a church worship service, but some conservatives would have it as the only right way.

The other night, as is not uncommon, we had a choral program at my church. A group of a few talented individuals (dressed with matching outfits and practiced) sang together in front of an audience of family and friends.  Their selection of music had meaningful lyrics focused on distinctly Christian themes and the Christmas season.  It was a beautiful presentation.

Afterwards, the pastor (asked to give the benedictory prayer) went to pains to explain that the presentation that preceded was not a “performance” or “entertainment” and was worship.  I understood what he meant.  However, is it actually truthful to say that a presentation to an audience is not a performance?  Are concepts of worship and performance mutually exclusive?

Mennonite Tradition, Progressive Evolution and Lingering Guilt…

Mennonites have historically avoided elevation of some in the group.  Leaders were expected to be servants to all rather than a privileged hierarchy.  In fact, even raised pulpits were a controversial topic because of the potential for pride and spiritual inequality they represented.  Traditionally there was a table for those who preached to put their Bibles on and no pulpit.  Preaching was not to be done flamboyantly or in a way that drew special attention to the presenter.

Music in worship was ordered likewise.  There were no solo instruments or vocals in worship services because it was believed that would draw too much attention to the individual(s) performing.  In the church service singing was strictly congregational and in unison rather than divided into parts.  Four part singing only became part of Mennonite practice in the late 1800’s and special singing groups likely followed some time after as Mennonites adopted more mainline practice.

But it is an uncomfortable position to the conservative Mennonite mind.  There is still an urge to distinguish between performance for entertainment and worship of God.  In my own congregation we allow solos and special singing groups.  However, we are also dutifully reminded that the point is the worship God rather than recognize those presenting and (except for a few occasional outbursts by rebels) we do not offer any applause.

It is this careful avoidance of applause and tendency towards the over-wrought explanation that makes me wonder what is truly amiss—It seems too anxious.  If nobody else but God is getting the attention, shouldn’t that just be self-evident, why the need for an explanation? Why the contrast and comparison?

Our Worship *IS* Imperfect, Be Honest…

I believe the reality is that a special group singing before an audience is obviously a performance and for entertainment.  No, this does not nullify the reality it is intended as worship for God either.  What we do for others is an expression of our worship for God and that can certainly include wholesome entertainment.  Our performance for the good of others is ultimately what brings God honor and glory, is it not?

Furthermore, we aim to be perfect expressions, but we are not and might as well be honest about it.  Of course there is potential for pride in performance.  Did anyone on the stage not want to please the audience they sang to?  It would be utterly absurd to claim otherwise and with that the danger of self-aggrandizement. 

Yet, denial of that potential for self-centered worship doesn’t get us any closer to perfection of worship either.  If anything it is the same fatal error of Ananias and Sapphira who were judged instantaneously for dishonesty in their claiming to give all while secretly withholding some for themselves. Their deception, likely rooted in their wanting to maintain appearances of perfection or religious pride, was their downfall.

We are imperfect even at our best. Yes, even in our worship we can have mixed motives. We enjoy being talented, we often keep some of the praise for ourselves, and that’s okay if we are honest about it.  We are saved by God’s grace and not by our own perfect efforts.  It is this admission of our own imperfection that leads us to be more gracious towards others and a more true expression of the worship Jesus described.

“Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” (Matthew 25:40)

In conclusion, we should do as Jesus instructed and learn what it means in Hosea 6:6 where it says God desires mercy not sacrifice.  This is a reference back to the religious sacrificial rituals observed as worship in the Old Testament.  Sacrifice is an impractical expression of worship whereas mercy is not. 

Our better worship is not having the right mode or music style as much as it is in our expressed in our genuine love for each other.