If this car has coil springs, I would have its babies, or it would have mine.
Or what million dollar stakes earns you in Vegas (besides hookers and blow): land yachts to take you wherever you want to go. And, of course, RIGHT BACK TO YOUR FAVORITE CASINO RIGHT HERE, SIR!!!
|The world’s best Hyundai|
|Common rich dudes will kindly keep their distance|
Meanwhile, farther down (up?) the Strip [Ed.: TWSS!]…
|Wynn 5? what are #s 1-4?|
Your chariot suffers the ravages of time and crack. All your shit falls off: roof, exhaust, little black rub strip…
your McMansion in the ‘burbs? Well, that concept gets revisited too.
Just another day in Dearborn
A Fairmont Continental? (I was going to bitch about the Riv until I read its story) Continue reading “Barrett-Jackson 2008: It Jumps the Shark”
In the 70s, everybody was on drugs. Exhibit A: The Ford Maverick/ Ford (no, nobody thinks it’s a fucking Mercedes) Granada/Mercury Monarch/ Lincoln (“pretend it’s completely unrelated”) Versailles. All of these are ultimately based on the ‘60 Falcon. Classy! Who the hell thought this was a better idea? Who would be seen in it while sober?
Alternatively, the 1970s must have been a time of great vision into the future*, an ability just like Saruman or Darth Vader, because that tumor-like bulge in the trunk must surely be covering some 26” dubs (which were not even invented in 1979 – not even in study hall).
*This can be explained, again, by the drugs. How come nobody sold that shit at my school?