Jack Baruth has assumed the top spot at The Truth About Cars, replacing Bertel Schmitt, and I couldn’t be happier for him. Baruth occupies a singular spot in the motor-noter continuum, which I would approximate as follows:
[David E. Davis Jr.] + [track experience] – [tweed] – [discretion]
The new Editor-in-Chief would like to thank his believers, his fans, and yes, even his detractors:
Every Mom’s-basement loser who penned furious screeds against me with Cheetos-stained fingers. Every S2000-driving wannabe drifter who hid in the tower at Mid-Ohio when I showed up there. Every suck-ass club racer who was holding me up on-track and went crying to the Internet or the sanctioning bodies. Every angry husband or beta boyfriend or white-knight orbiter who found themselves on the losing end of the battle for a woman’s heart, soul, or other parts. You have no idea how many times I would have quit writing about cars if I hadn’t known it would gratify the legions of people who have done nothing with their lives but piss and moan about what I’m doing with mine. You’re the biggest motivation I have. Every time I meet a new fan at a new racetrack or slide my Amex through the machine for another custom-shop guitar I say a silent prayer of thanks that you’re still there egging me on. Keep it up.
In what surely must be an act of faith, I have actually registered as a user on TTAC, something I hadn’t done in its three previous incarnations.