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.

Buick’s first wagon in nearly 25 years is a winner.

When confronted with pinguid puddles of mud, I usually say “gross” and find something better to do. But in a vintage Land Rover Defender, I shifted into Low, and plowed in.

A Ferrari with a V8 is not always normative. But it’s often fun, interesting, or just plain weird.

If any random driver is going to get pulled over for an infraction, it’s the insouciant older gentleman in the ululating, $200,000, radioactive warbler-colored convertible. So don’t expect me to goose it and give chase when you engine brake alongside me in your stanced-out, white smoke-belching 2002 M3.

Celebrate Bannon’s ouster. Spend all of the money on cars.

A guide to the top exemplars of the genus Musculus Americanus, in and around Monterey.

Concerned that your BMW M4 is not aggressive or noticeable enough? Send it to Dinan for the full set up and it will return looking and acting like it mounted and devoured a Countach.

Imagine if you had a double that was a car, but it was a far better car than you would ever be a person. The 911 GTS is that.

Much of Downtown Los Angeles reeks of human urine. Far more than the artisanal coffee roasters and perfumeries that have taken root down there, the Porsche Panamera Turbo is the antidote* for this fetor.

*The larger and tragic issues surrounding the indigent homeless population require massive social service investment, and perhaps a revolution.