Motown Wasteland

The place where Toronados ~~wait for a museum to be bui~~lt come to die.

What to Drive

from Kalamazoo to New Mexico, trying to find naked chicks at the hot springs outside of Taos. Also, vampires and Dirty Dave.

Uncle Bob: Real Estate Mogul

If you want to sell a lot of real estate, you need a car that says “a lot of real estate” inside and out. A car that says everything about me smells of Hai Karate, gold chains, coke and buxom hookers (and that’s just for breakfast). Or in Bob’s case, an exotic Russian trophy wife and a riverfront Detroit penthouse.

1972 Cadillac Coupe de Ville — All the modern luxuries

Live and Let Die

Mr. Big in Phoenix Another Thursday, another Cadillac, although (evidently) there is a body or 10 in the trunk.

Coupe de Ville, from the French word for bloated tank of lard. This is the pinnacle of American luxury in the day. Why?

472 cubic inch V-8 – bigger than your puny Impala’s 350
22 ft long – again, bigger than your puny impala.
Power windows, locks, a/c, long before they were common on kias
Leather, from actual creatures
An arm rest in the back seat. That is the real kicker. It’s how my grandparents knew they were in a real luxury car. Not the other shit – the rear arm rest.

Uncle Bob had a shit brown one, which blended in nicely in dingy, drab Detroit.