I guess it’s a good price, but it’s got the all the charisma of a big box of adult diapers. I’ll vote for a third-party candidate in this election.

Great clip. Forget the cars. Who cares?

Wait a minute...is this unraveling into one of those notorious Jalopnik pun threads?

Hmm...dick, junk, salt, meat, and metal...surely there is an adolescent joke in there, just waiting to be set free.

That Lancia looked like that 15 minutes after it was towed out of the showroom.

:)

It’s not a difficult job in concept, but it required the strength of a gorilla to get those donuts positioned so they could be bolted into place. More muscle than brainpower was the requirement. OTOH, yeah, a stone-simple cavemobile has its merits!

My 7 year old son believes these are all LOL-worthy.

Your name hints to me that you may bring a certain viewpoint to this discussion.

And those are goddess years, which are different, after all.

I will never complain about my petty troubles again. This is some soul-annihilating sh1t.

Darn it, I see that I was scooped on this one.

Why would anyone _not_ have a total crush on Mary Steenburgen? I mean, other than the fact that she’s a hundred years old now.

Ya think?

It’s pretty close to the Islets of Langerhans.

Can’t she just go and take potshots at people outside a suburban big-box store? I think that’s a thing now.

I’m gonna say 1973 Triumph Spitfire. Rear suspension is transverse leaf spring and the rear wheels are driven by rubber “doughnuts” with threaded steel inserts. They attach to a staggered fitting, but are flat and need to be brute-forced into place. You’d have to multiply by about 20 to work this setup to qualifiying…

Yeah, I had to refresh my memory. Thanks.

Yeah, I had to rethink it...a little rusty. OTOH, the scenarios you propose are amusing, too.

I can tell right now. You are not David Lee Roth.

True story. I once engaged in a bit of a “speed contest” with one of these on a public roadway. While of course the guy could have smoked me, he ran out of nerve at just over 125 MPH / 205 KPH. My rationale was that if a cop saw our testosterone induced rage-fest, he’d go for the Lambo.

I’m smarter than that now.