Excitement thrummed through the crowd around the Nissan booth at the 1985 Tokyo motor show. As the throng pressed close, you could hear two phrases: kawaii —“cute,” and hoshii—“I want it.”. Nearby, a state-of-the-art, mid-engine sports-car concept called the MID4 sat overlooked. Instead, people had fallen in love with a 51-hp compact.

“I like driving. A car is useless if it doesn't move. By riding, the 432R is pleased.”. With these simple words, accompanied by an apology for his limited English, Akira Takeuchi reveals himself to be the sort of caretaker you'd want for a priceless artifact of automotive heritage. Nothing is lost in the translation.

At the Canadian Museum of flight in Langley B.C., docents donned gloves to push a gorgeous Ohio-built, red and cream 1937 Waco AQC-6 out of the hangar, parking it next to a fawn-colored Ford Roadster. The Roadster, a 1931 Deluxe model owned by Ed and Susan Beye, who have driven it out on this overcast day to pay tribute to a legendary pioneer in Canadian aviation.

Walter Cronkite’s even-handed delivery of the news was a rock upon which the nation could rely. Nightly, on CBS, he anchored us through the Vietnam War, the assassinations of John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr., the Iran hostage crisis, and the Apollo missions. But behind the objectivity, behind the professionalism, behind those horn-rimmed glasses and patrician tones, the most trusted man in America had a secret: Walter wished he was off racing instead.

At first, a halo saved Romain Grosjean's life. Angels arrived in thunder soon afterward. Formula 1's Medical Car, a Mercedes-AMG C63 S wagon, was dispatched by race command and arrived on scene in roughly 10 seconds. At the wheel was Alan van der Merwe, former British F3 champion. Riding shotgun was Formula 1 Rescue Coordinator Dr.

Millennials are murderers, or at least thatʼs what the headlines would have you believe. Over the past few years, thereʼs been a spate of “Millennials are killing … " stories accusing young people of destroying everything from golf to department stores to lunch. So, when it comes to collector cars, itʼs carnage as usual, right?

This year, Tomica turns 50, and I know what you’re going to say: “What’s a Tomica?”. Well, it’s a toy diecast car produced by Takara Tomy, makers of everything from Pokemon to Transformers. As is common in Japan, the name is a portmanteau of two words, “Tomy” and “Car.”. Tomica sells 180 million cars every year, and this year, they’ve arrived on our shores.

On October 28, 2017, David Ellis went out for one last drive in his 1969 Lotus Seven. It was late fall; the leaves crackled under the tires and whirled up in the slipstream. The sun shone down on the curves of the Sea-to-Sky highway just North of Vancouver, British Columbia. The light offered little in the way of heat, but sparkled off the water and off the chrome and paint of the tiny yellow car.

A German inventor created the rotary engine. A team of Japanese engineers got it to work. In 1992, one American made it fly. Screaming across the Bonneville Salt Flats at more than 220 mph, a 760-hp, triple-rotor RX-7 suddenly spins, then flips into the air. The car slides on its roof for what feels like forever, then comes to a halt.

The Rush to Gold Bridge is not an event for the faint of heart. Over three days, participants and their classic cars face hundreds of miles of mixed tarmac and gravel in remote parts of British Columbia. The route is pre-planned, but conditions on the day of could present surprise challenges. “I really hope the forest service road is passable this year,” says Dave Hord, “It’s a long detour around if it isn’t.”.

On February 7th, 1946, guards aboard a Crédit Lyonnais van were shocked to see two low-slung, black Citroëns screech to a halt in front of them. The cars disgorged their occupants, and in broad daylight, on Paris’s Avenue Parmentier, grim-faced men leveled Sten submachine guns and demanded cash. This was the first of a number of daring and violent raids that would see the criminals getting away with some 80 million francs, almost $8 million in today’s money.

In the summer of 2018, David Karpik of Kenai, Alaska, nosed Shelby Cobra chassis CSX2060 out of his garage and onto the road. The drive was a short one, the 289-cubic-inch V-8 rumbling as the car circled the block only a couple times. However, history was made: A Cobra had finally arrived in the northernmost state.

In July of 1955, locals in the southwest of England were somewhat bemused to see a large, burly figure unloading a sixteen-foot plank from the side of a dangerous-looking motorcycle, on the banks of the River Severn. Home to one of the largest tidal bores in the world, the Severn is England’s longest river, and flowed fast here, in the narrows.

Over seven years, Derek Spratt poured tens of thousands of dollars in parts and 12,000 hours of labor into creating his vision of an ultimate first-generation Volkswagen GTI. Then he gave it away, selling the car for a fraction of what he put into it. On the surface, it sounds like one man's obsession descended into madness.

Every car has its moment. For the Austin Mini, that moment was the swinging '60s, rock 'n' roll and mini-skirts and an impossibly tiny economy car four-wheel sliding through corners, taking down giants. Cheap and cheerful, the Mini was a car for the youth. But youth is fleeting, and tastes change.

It was an off-hand question, but one loaded with fear and tension. As the East German border guard flipped through Norbert Konrad’s passport, he asked, “Isn’t this the same type of car one man used to get through the barriers?”. Konrad answered that he didn’t know. But he was lying. A little Austin-Healey Sprite had already slipped past the Iron Curtain once.