About two days after I talked about the relaunch of the Toyota Supra, I took a young man from Toyota US HQ to a function room somewhere in Plano, and what was parked outside?
Actually, I kinda like the “shape camo” Candy-Colored Tangerine-Flake Streamlined Baby paint job. Imagine seeing that in your garage after a heavy night’s drinking…
Best of all, I’d like to know what you’d write under “Color” on the insurance form.
I see that Toyota has brought back the Supra, and all I can say is, it’s about damn time.
It’s pretty. isn’t it? The Mail compares it to a Porsche Boxster, and I think it kicks the Krautcar’s ass in the looks department.
I’ve only ever driven one Supra, back in the early 1980s:
..and what I discovered was that it was a beauty: nimble, quick and best of all, it started every time (I’d just come off a Fiat 124 and an Alfa Romeo Giulietta).
Sadly, I’m out of the Supra / sporty car market now — I can’t handle hauling my fat old ass out of these low-slung numbers anymore — but let me tell you…
Once again, I hear the whines: “Oh Kim, those purty lil’ sports cars are fine an’ all… but they’re plain useless if’n you want to haul a load or sump’n. So give us more Murkin eye candy.”
I serve to please:
…and that’s it for this series, as 2018 draws to a close. Next Sunday there’ll be something totally different.
And back we go, Over the Pond (and also back in time, a tad):
Still gorgeous, after all these years… no voting needed on this one because they’re all equally beautiful.
But it seems only fair that we should also take a little peek into Jag’s future:
“Okay Kim,” you whine, “them furrin cars is all very well, but how ’bout some Murkin goodness?”
Ask, and ye shall receive. Here are the Corvettes:
Go on; you know what to do…
My mother once had one of these:
Owners of Morris Minors (boasting a top speed of just 63mph, and taking more than 30 seconds to get to 60mph) are among the most prolific drug and drink drivers, a new study suggests.
And it looked exactly like this one:
I think hers had a single windshield, not a split one, but I could be wrong. She loved it dearly, and was distraught when my father secretly sold it, replacing it with one of these:
She kept the Austin-Healey for almost a year, then forced my father to get rid of it, “because the men keep looking at me and flirting” — which tells you all about my mother. Its replacement? An Austin 1100:
…which she kept for years until I wrecked it in 1971 (sorry, Ma).
Anyway, about that drunken Morris Minor driver thing: I suspect that it’s because most Minor drivers today are old farts, who suffer from impaired reflexes and decaying driving skills as well as a tendency to drink lots of gin.
I want to drive a Morris Minor then, because I fit the profile perfectly. But I want the Traveller model, complete with wood (which is real wood, by the way):
I bet I could pull the chicks* with that beauty, big time.
* of my own vintage, that is.