“I don’t act, I don’t sing, and I’m not a dancer, so I express myself with ‘looks.'” My interview with legendary nightlife impresario Susanne Bartsch.
Click on the link above to view a crappy scan, or just buy the magazine on the newsstand, you chintzy bitch.
It looks like a cave painting of an SUV. It drives like a luxury car. It tackles steppe like a Catalan goat. It is a profligate toy in a category rife with extravagant waste. It is almost impossible not to love.
Your first (or next) electric car will not be made by some Silicon Valley startup.
Its first cars were unveiled in a bizarre ceremony in the lobby of the grand Hotel Tulsa, downtown. Potential customers, investors, and other interested parties were invited to the festivities, where the vehicles were christened by a young woman with a bottle of Tulsa-made gasoline. We hope that cigar smoking was discouraged.
“We are not about keeping alive traditional platforms for their own sake.”
Sadly, Suzuki doesn’t exist in America, so we probably won’t be able to buy one.
Welcome to Sweden’s Second City.
In Gothenberg, Volvo is everywhere. And that’s not a bad thing.
My dad’s got a garage. Let’s launch a car company!
If they’re the Jaguar I-Pace and Mercedes-Benz G-Wagen, they sort of can, as attested to in my pair of articles in this month’s issue of Hagerty magazine. Click the thumbnails above (and then click again) to view a crappy scan. Or just buy a classic car and get some Hagerty insurance, you chintzy bitch.