Thirty-one years ago: April 23, 1982, Chicago. My best friend was born. He was not a car guy. I was the car guy. He was the guy: Brilliant. Radical. Amiable. Daring. He was my best friend, and he passed away recently. No—it’s been too long to call it recently.
I’m a 28-year-old female. Before you start passing judgment upon what I might be like, or who I might be, give me a chance; actually, give everybody out there like me a chance. There is an extremely high possibility that you might be surprised by what you find.
Two bits of information crossed my desk the other day, both vaguely troubling. The first was the announcement of yet another bigger Mini—the Paceman, following on the heels of the ridiculously expensive Clubvan, which stands about as much chance of doing a solid day’s blue-collar work as me, if I can help it. “That’s Miss Frou-Frou’s Flower Shop to you, mate.”
BMW CCA members create one-of-a-kind grand prize It started as an online survey: If you were to configure an E92 M3 to be the ultimate BMW CCA special edition, what choices would you make? In no time, members had settled on a color—Le Mans Blue—and various options: Competition Package, of course, and cold-weather and premium packages.
When I was younger, and uncovering the benefits of newly found driving freedom—preferably with the company of a friend and a fine cigar—I found particular delight in wandering the nocturnal roads in and around southwestern Ohio. Exploration revealed previously unknown stretches of tree-lined passageways—set hauntingly aglow by the full moon—secret shortcuts, and other treasures hidden by the hustle of daytime purpose.