This is quoted from a response to an article about warranties... but it explains why we all mod our cars... It pretty much sums up the Jalopnik manifesto:
"I'm so glad I've always bought old and used and thus have enjoyed the freedom to do whatever the hell I want to do to my car.
I just picked up a free non-running 1989 Audi 80 quattro as a parts car for my 1991 80 quattro. I've pretty summarily taken what I need off of it, leaving a perfectly good chassis, seats, transmission and AWD system. It's missing a couple body panels and most of the engine.
Know what else I've got? A 1994 Subaru Legacy AWD station wagon with a bent frame, shot transmission and enough rust on the body to pretend it just came back from a nice Sunday drive on mars. And a perfectly good, strong-running engine.
Oh, and a friend with a machine shop for making custom engine mounts and bell housing adapters. Who is also a 24-hours of Lemons fan.
Many many many many many many many warranties would be nigh voided were these cars new.
In my opinion, warranties do naught but cockblock potential students of hooning and mechanical awesomeness.
"Oh my god! That is epic! I would love to do it, but...it would void my warranty..."
If any of my previous cars had never had warranties, I'd probably still not even know how to change a tire. Warranties create timidity and co-dependence in otherwise potential Jalops and car enthusiasts. Are warranties good for people who merely want to commute in their beige little toaster?
Yes. Because those people aren't enthusiasts. They have no interest in freeing up extra ponies by helping the car breathe better, or getting a higher torque curve by re-lobing the cam. They could care less about the weight balance or the torsion chassis stiffness or the fact that their goddamned headlights are aimed into oncoming traffic. And it's these people, the automotively illiterate, who need a warranty. They rely on it to safe them from their own passive ignorance and laziness.
But what about those who DO care? A cold-air intake is one of those things that is priced so effectively it's nearly free horsepower. A new exhaust? Sounds better and adds power at a reasonable price. Intercooler? Awesome. More power, better reliability. Adding a turbo? Sweet. Gobs of new power and better gas mileage. Tuned on a dyno? Very little work on your part to make your car all it can be. Do you know what else all of these things are?
Learning experiences. Education. Wisdom. The building blocks of becoming a true petrolhead and future Jalop. Toying with your car bonds you to that car. Emotionally and intellectually. It helps you become intimately familiar with what your car is and what it can and cannot do. If these truck owners had shown the initiative to just tinker a bit, they would have known that their frames had an inherent weakness before testing its limits blindly.
And if they weren't so co-dependent on their warranties, they could have fixed that weakness. They could have reinforced the frame right there for relatively cheap. And with that the would gain not only a better understanding of what makes their truck tick, along with confidence in it's abilities and the piece of mind that at least that part of their truck is up to the task at hand because they personally made damned sure of it.
I honestly believe that when people quit being enslaved by their warranties and allow themselves the freedom to customize and tune and tinker and play with their cars, it not only teaches them about their cars and all cars in general, it also make their lives easier and less stressful.
Wait, less stressful? Bu aren't warranties all about peace of mind and less stress? Yes. The same way abstinence is good for peace of mind about not having an STD or accidental pregnancy.
But so is responsible sex, except that's also fun as well as helping you be less stressed and have the peace of mind that hey, you are in fact capable to getting laid. The same way being a responsible car owner allows you peace of mind while also letting you have fun with your automotive ward.
Since you know how your car works and what's been done to it, when something goes wrong, instead of wondering what the mystery thing under the hood is doing and whether the magical almighty Warranty Gods will cover it, you instead pop the hood, pop open your Haynes/Chilton/Bentley manual and proceed to study the symptoms, diagnose the problem and, you know, do something about it. Not only do you save money by doing it yourself, you also get the peace of mind knowing that you can personally ensure that the problem is fixed, as well as be content in better knowing how to fix it next time. And if you must buy tools for the job, guess what:
They're you're tools. To keep. You own them. Forever. You don't have to pay each time they need to be used. You paid for them one time and every time after that, they're free to use for yourself. And you don't have to pay the dealership or service department triple-digit markups for work that, as an enthusiast, will do naught but enrich your own life and your own wallet.
I think warranties are the British Nannies of the automotive world. Yes, they're handy in a pinch when you've got to got out of town for a week and don't have the time or ability to watch your child (ie. car) for that period of time. But rely on the Nanny too much and eventually your 'child' will be too old for the Nanny to watch any longer and suddenly you're stuck with a burden that, while technically it is yours, you don't know the first damned thing about it or how to take care of it.
Except if nannies were actually like warranties, if at any point you decided to be a responsible, loving parent and take your child out for a fun day at the park or clothes shopping or to get a haircut, or hell, even to drop them off at school yourself, you would from that day forth no longer be allowed to ever hire that nanny again.
In my personal opinion...fuck the Nanny and do whatever you want to your car. It is yours, after all."
Here is the link to the article:
http://jalopnik.com/5820104/are-ford-raptor-frames-too-weak-for-off+roading