I know, old joke (and actually, it started off of as a Porsche joke), but sometimes, jokes can be fairly accurate.

An example of that can be this guy who trying to sell his BMW M3 E46 that I noticed on CarScoop.

Really, I could go on and psychoanalyze this guy, making point by point observations about this bit or that bit, but you really have to take it for the astoundingly narcissistic screwed up whole that it is:

“This car has gotten me laid so much it is ridiculous. I would like pull up to a pimp club in Scottsdale and the valet would crap his pants, but I wouldn’t let him park it. I just leave it up front and make sure all the ladies saw me get out. I’m also totally ripped so that helps too. I inject myself with pure bull shark testosterone and lift 4 hours a day”.

My diet also consists of 24 egg whites a day. I’ve got a killer 6 pack and some delts that you would not believe. I only hook up with 9s and 10s. Never less because I’m a winner! I’m not saying this car will do the same for you but it’s a start.”

If you’re interested in taking the first step to becoming a true Jedi Pimp email me at (we removed the e-mail address for obvious reasons). I’ll probably be working out so I’ll get back to you as soon as I finish my protein shake (and probably hooking up with a hot chick).”

Ladies and gentlemen, I rest my case.

So, for some reason, Daniel McDermon, a reporter for the New York Times decided to take the new Vespa S for a spin down the length of the island of Manhattan.

At first I thought, ‘That’s crazy! A scooter out there with New York city cabbies and what-not?”

And then I remember that I watched “Roman Holiday” last night (my wife has an Audrey Hepburn fixation), and I thought again. Sure, NYC has this rep for bad streets and even worse drivers, but are they really, in the grand scheme of things, that bad? I’ve driven there on more than one occasion, and it can be ape crazy, but it’s better than Boston (for one thing).

And neither of those cities is as bad as Rome, and there’s Vespas all over the place there. Weaving in and out of traffic, blowing through lights, dodging through roundabouts etc. etc. etc.

I went to school in Rome for a while, and when I was there, I didn’t see one accident. Not one.

The closest thing I saw to an accident was when a guy riding a Vespa pulled up to an intersection next to a girl and I (we were waiting to cross the street, coming home from seeing Aida performed in an ancient Roman amphitheater).

He came screeching up to a halt, slamming on the breaks at the last instant, the way every Roman does.

Then he casually reached over and grabbed my companions thigh, the light turned, he took off, and she said, “That guy just grabbed my thigh!”

I could understand it. She was cute (blond hair, blue eyes, stacked; and Italians are just crazy about that type of woman … which always puzzled me when 54% of the women in Italy look like Gina Lolobridgida) and he was Roman.

I know, this is a blog about cars, but this is just too good.

There’s a bunch of things that makes this great/terrifying.

First off, it’s that they mounted the engine on a bicycle. Not a car, or a truck, or even a motorcycle, but something that looks like a re-done Schwinn.

Next, that’s not your run of the mill jet engine, oh no. That’s a Peenemünde-grade pulse jet attached to to that bike … Sweet Jesus, I can’t believe I just typed that sentence. Seriously, what sort of lunatic would do something like that.

And finally, the claimed top speed: 75 miles per hour.

Rockets on bikes are nothing new (they were playing around with them in the 20s, actually), but a pulse jet?

For starters, those things make an enormous amount of noise. I know from first hand experience (on more than one occasion) that one of this size is going to crank out sound pressure levels way, WAY in excess of 120 dB a good distance away (in the 30 meter range). Whoever is riding that bike better used double earplugs and gun-muffs, or their ear drums will be toast.

Also, they shoot out flame for 3 or 4 times the barrel length, so there’s thermal concerns here … as in, you’ll light the garage on fire if you’re within 50 feet of it.

And, that thing is seriously off the the centerline of vehicle … the rider will be crabbing like crazy trying to make it go straight.

But that’s OK, he won’t have to worry about that for very long. It’ll be a very low altitude, short duration flight.

From points antipodal, via Autoblog.

More photos after the jump.

Continue Reading…

Do we have a section for stories pertaining to “Semi-Useless Crap That Only Stupid Americans Would Buy?” If we do, here’s another addition for it.

What you see here is a gizmo that allows you keep your French fries stationed close at hand using a cup holder slot. It even has a holder for ketchup.

I can’t begin to tell you how many different ways this makes my skin crawl. First off: drive the car. Second: DRIVE THE CAR. Thirdly: you shouldn’t be eating while driving. Fourth: Ketchup!

Honest to God, ketchup?

What’s wrong with you people?

Look I like fries, and I really like fries with ketchup (it’s kind of the whole point, no?). Eating fries while driving not only takes away from the enjoyment of the fries, it also adds to the lack of control you have over the car. Also, it’s next to impossible to apply the ketchup to the fries, negating a large part of the whole fry experience (see above).

Honest to God, ketchup? How did that get in there? Did the geniuses (and by geniuses I mean knuckle-dragging baboons) that came up with this “must have” accessory do some field testing and say, “You know what would make this PERFECT? If we were to integrate a KETCHUP HOLDER in there too!!”

If they did, if that really was the “thought” process that went into designing this, then I have an even lower opinion of humanity than I did before.