The sentient Volkswagen Derby gazed darkly out on the rolling hills of the Dutch countryside and wondered, why am I? And more importantly, who am I?

An unhappy fact about my life is that, more than likely, I’ll never own a Porsche 911 GT3. The silver lining, however, is that I’ll never have to helplessly watch my 911 burn down on the Nürburgring.

New cars come with all sorts of advanced technology designed to keep drivers safe, but all those safety-increasing gadgets come with a price—and it’s not just the initial cost of the technology that’s hitting car owners hard.

Tesla CEO Elon Musk will indeed be facing a lawsuit over his July tweet in which he called Vernon Unsworth, a British expat living in Thailand who assisted with the rescue of a dozen boys and their soccer coach from a flooded cave, a “pedo.”

For those of you who are deeply emotionally affected by horrible car design ideas, I’m sorry you have to see this Hyundai Santa Fe Cabriolet. I know if I could unsee it, I would.

The Nürburgring Nordschleife; a treacherous track that has chewed many a driver’s car to a gnarly pulp. The unfortunate driver of this now-pile of broken Porsche is John Shoffner from J2 Racing, but luckily, he came out of it all OK in the end.

I’ve had it with all of you. The zombie apocalypse or the arrival of some super flu is nigh, and all you people can do is quote a movie from 38 years ago?

What car would you buy if you were a rock god? It’s a fun question to ponder, but not one to take too seriously since most of us can’t always get what we want. Someone with about as much (or more) money than a rock god will get to live that dream, however, when they purchase Rolling Stones guitarist Keith Richards’…

Engineers and designers always geek out hard seeing their dreams take flight. In this case, the Volkswagen Tanoak and Atlas Cross Sport that the automaker allowed us to fool around with weren’t exactly flying—the two show cars we limited to 20-30 mph—but the excitement was palpable nonetheless.

A young boy in Iowa is facing his final battle with an aggressive form of leukemia, and all he wants are some racing stickers to decorate his casket.

Science isn’t the sexy, glamorous career Hollywood makes it out to be. Researchers aren’t sexily glancing into microscopes for a few second only to immediately save the day. In real life, the true hero scientists are the ones who crawl through sewers and see answers to our energy needs in lumps of grease and shit.

It turns out, it’s not just the Lamborghinis that Bitcoin enthusiasts seem to be obsessed with that are pumping CO2 into our atmosphere. Accruing the wealth itself is extremely wasteful, releasing 20 megatons of CO2 into the atmosphere a year—as much as the whole Republic of Ireland.

In the glory days of Detroit, the wild 1950s and ‘60s, we made music and we made cars. Those two things seem disconnect, but without the auto industry you wouldn’t have the melding of sounds that caused the Queen of Soul, Aretha Franklin, to light up a grey industrial town in the midwest and, eventually, the world.

We’ve answered the question of whether or not trains are cars? (yes) and are Zambonis cars? (emphatically yes), but now we tackle are sail-powered art pieces, in fact, cars? Yes, we declare the Strandbeests cars, and they are awesome.

Metro Detroiters already have to deal with crumbling roads, high insurance and drivers who don’t know how to handle four way stops. (Seriously, get it together Michiganders.) But disgusting mystery ooze? That’s a new one.