Factory pads and rotors leave a lot to be desired when it comes to performance braking. The key to stopping on a dime and getting nine cents backs lies in the aftermarket. Let’s take a quick look at a few of the brake options available.
We’ve all come to expect the fact that automakers cut corners anywhere they think there’s a buck to be saved. It can be cheap plastic interior knobs, a doughnut for a spare tire or rehashed components stockpiled from earlier model years. These are all simple problems that we learn to live with, but the worst is when these companies skimp on brakes.
Face it, factory brakes are only getting flimsier. They’re using cheaper iron in the discs, lower grade compounds in the pads and severely undersized calipers. On large trucks and SUVs, these set ups sometimes require servicing in less than 20, 000 miles. One reader was actually informed by the dealer that the squeaky brakes on her newish SUV were caused by an aggressive brake system! We all know that this is BS, of course.
The solution to your braking woes isn’t out of reach though. The aftermarket is chock full of performance brake components designed for nearly every vehicle. Whether you want to convert your muscle car to high-performance discs or just beef up the family ride’s braking power, there are plenty of manufacturers more than willing to help you out.
Not only do aftermarket brake parts last longer than the factory stuff, they’re engineered to stop your car better. This can mean safer, more controllable braking for everyday driving, or higher-performance stops for spirited motoring. You don’t have to be tearing up the track to enjoy the pedal feel of a set of powerful brakes.
Since performance brake kits are built vehicle specific, swapping out your stockers is relatively easy. Of course, if you opt for a set oversized stoppers with 6-piston calipers, the modifications can get a bit tricky. For the most part though, direct bolt-on parts will make a world of difference. The magic lies is the advanced designs and the quality materials employed by the aftermarket manufacturers.
Heavy-duty cast iron is just the beginning of a quality rotor. Advanced vent designs keep ‘em cooler while slotting and/or drilling provides the performance bite. Not to mention the cool looks that a set of cross-drilled and vented rotors add to your ride, especially if you’re running custom, open-style wheels.
The best part about aftermarket brake pads is the cornucopia of options available. Many different compounds and design take into consideration every imaginable driving style or need. Pads are specially constructed for towing, heavy trucks, SUVs, track racing, street racing—you name it, they make it. And, these custom pads are usually priced right in there with the factory pads that already prematurely failed you. This means there’s no reason to toy with the stock stuff anymore.
So, when it’s time to replace those factory stoppers—and that time is coming sooner than you think—put the brakes on the OEM garbage and set your rig up proper with a set of performance pads and rotors available from one of the many fine brake manufactures out there right now.
There’s no longer any reason to keep using those cheap OEM brake components. High-quality aftermarket brake pads and brake rotors are available from most automotive shops and they’re even easier to get over the internet. Happy braking!
Showing posts with label brake rotors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label brake rotors. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Stopping on a Dime to Stop the March of Dimes
Unless you like the idea of laboratories around the country brimming with caged, maimed, tortured animals, you’ll stop supporting the March of Dimes. I did, and I even took my protest to the next level. I upgraded the brakes and brake rotors on my Mustang for stop-dime braking power, so I can be a safer motorist and so I can make a political statement through my choice of automotive accessories.
Let me just say one thing: I am not an advocate for killing babies and infants. If someone in front of my local grocery store asked me to sign a petition calling for stomping on the necks of every thousandth baby born, I would respectfully lie and say that I’m not a registered voter to avoiding penning my name to their slip of paper. I’m a caring person, you see. In fact, I’m so caring that my compassion is not confined to our species alone. If there was a similar petition floating around for the eradication of every thousandth Sumatran Tiger born, I would again make up an excuse not to sign.
I wasn’t always so sensitive, though. I used to be a raging speciesist who thought that the world revolved around Homo sapiens alone. And I made my feelings known to everyone I came into contact with, be it through my witty bumper stickers (“Silly Vegetarian—Veal’s for Men”), my snarky shirts (“Make Rack of Lamb, not War”), or my biting conversation…no pun intended. So great was my distain for animals that I would combine fishing and hunting trips into a sport of my own invention: shotgun angling. I’d stand in a stream, cast my lures, and have my trusty double-aught slung around my shoulder to blast any elk that might wander across my path. On my best day, I snared a 15 pound bass and a 12-point stag. Good eats that night!
However, my feelings changed rather abruptly a few years ago. I took a vacation to Nova Scotia to hike a glacier and to try my hand at clubbing seals. On the day of the big hunt, I was simply giddy with anticipation. My excited hands were shaking so violently I could barely keep from spilling my cup of Yuban. Our hunting party, 17 steely souls in yellow waders, set out across the frosty landscape before dawn. Just as the sun started breeching out of the Bay of Fundy, we spotted our prey. White and still as gull drizzle on an ocean boulder, the seals were laid out looking at us without a care in the world. Then, the hunt leader blew his whistle, and we dashed after the floppy beasts. But when I reached the first pup, I couldn’t bring myself to plunge my hakapik into his adorable little skull. At that moment, something inside me changed. I flew home without a pelt in my suitcase, but with nothing but respect in my heart for critters great and small.
That’s why I can’t stand the March of Dimes, which gives money to researchers who perform grizzly experiments on our furry friends of the forest. Since I don’t have the clout of some big-time celebrity like Tony Danza or Michelle Kwan, my soapbox is pretty squat. Instead, I’m making my statement through the automotive accessories I choose. I installed a set of performance brakes and brake rotors, so now I can stop on a dime, get out of my Mustang, pick up that dime, and keep it out of the hands of those kitten-killing jerks. Take that!
I know that this article is a round-about way to make a point. I learned something that day and made a change in my lifestyle which also required doing some research about brakes and brake rotors so that I could avoid the little critters that happen across the road. Now I can avoid doing any more harm and my conscience is a little clearer.
Let me just say one thing: I am not an advocate for killing babies and infants. If someone in front of my local grocery store asked me to sign a petition calling for stomping on the necks of every thousandth baby born, I would respectfully lie and say that I’m not a registered voter to avoiding penning my name to their slip of paper. I’m a caring person, you see. In fact, I’m so caring that my compassion is not confined to our species alone. If there was a similar petition floating around for the eradication of every thousandth Sumatran Tiger born, I would again make up an excuse not to sign.
I wasn’t always so sensitive, though. I used to be a raging speciesist who thought that the world revolved around Homo sapiens alone. And I made my feelings known to everyone I came into contact with, be it through my witty bumper stickers (“Silly Vegetarian—Veal’s for Men”), my snarky shirts (“Make Rack of Lamb, not War”), or my biting conversation…no pun intended. So great was my distain for animals that I would combine fishing and hunting trips into a sport of my own invention: shotgun angling. I’d stand in a stream, cast my lures, and have my trusty double-aught slung around my shoulder to blast any elk that might wander across my path. On my best day, I snared a 15 pound bass and a 12-point stag. Good eats that night!
However, my feelings changed rather abruptly a few years ago. I took a vacation to Nova Scotia to hike a glacier and to try my hand at clubbing seals. On the day of the big hunt, I was simply giddy with anticipation. My excited hands were shaking so violently I could barely keep from spilling my cup of Yuban. Our hunting party, 17 steely souls in yellow waders, set out across the frosty landscape before dawn. Just as the sun started breeching out of the Bay of Fundy, we spotted our prey. White and still as gull drizzle on an ocean boulder, the seals were laid out looking at us without a care in the world. Then, the hunt leader blew his whistle, and we dashed after the floppy beasts. But when I reached the first pup, I couldn’t bring myself to plunge my hakapik into his adorable little skull. At that moment, something inside me changed. I flew home without a pelt in my suitcase, but with nothing but respect in my heart for critters great and small.
That’s why I can’t stand the March of Dimes, which gives money to researchers who perform grizzly experiments on our furry friends of the forest. Since I don’t have the clout of some big-time celebrity like Tony Danza or Michelle Kwan, my soapbox is pretty squat. Instead, I’m making my statement through the automotive accessories I choose. I installed a set of performance brakes and brake rotors, so now I can stop on a dime, get out of my Mustang, pick up that dime, and keep it out of the hands of those kitten-killing jerks. Take that!
I know that this article is a round-about way to make a point. I learned something that day and made a change in my lifestyle which also required doing some research about brakes and brake rotors so that I could avoid the little critters that happen across the road. Now I can avoid doing any more harm and my conscience is a little clearer.
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