Much like our other recent using-electricity-to-melt-shit story, this is just a chance to marvel at some terrible ideas and wonder why these guys aren’t charred remains. It’s the carpet that does it for me.
If you’re the kind of person who views the phrase “I’m selling it before I kill myself in it” as a ringing endorsement, I just found your dream machine. Here is a lifted golf cart powered by a 115-horsepower engine from a 2002 Suzuki GSX-R600 sportbike.
Look, I’ve had some great ideas in my life, and I’ve had some terrible ones. Trying to wash my greasy timing-chain cover in my dishwasher falls squarely into the latter category, as I’ve been eating off dishes laced with oily residue for nine months now.
There are few cars more poorly executed than the Cadillac Allanté. With bodies built by Italian factory workers, then shipped over to Michigan to be finished by 1980s GM factory workers, and with a name selected by computer, it is the epitome of a very certain idea of “luxury.” And now American Apparel, a bankrupt…
When I look back on my writing career, I believe I will cite July 26, 2015, as the ultimate pinnacle. That was the day I got to drive an overpriced convertible SUV that looks like an angry clothing iron.
I think it’s the way we hear the intrepid anti-fire motorcyclist state that he “guarantees” that he can put out the fire with the motorcycle that makes this so appealing. The confidence, the casual bravado, one man, one motorcycle, one fire! It’s the stuff of dreams! And, he’s victorious! Almost.
Who would have ever thought this was a good idea? Take a nice, nimble Mini Cooper and stuff it full of jet engine. It looks like it belongs on an episode of “Looney Tunes.” Will it still turn? Erm, no.
NASCAR Camping World Truck Series driver Jennifer Jo Cobb will be the first driver to be penalized under the new rule against leaving a wrecked car before safety personnel arrive and approaching the racing surface. Cobb maintains that she “completely forgot” about this rule.
If there's one place you don't want to hop onto, it's on an active race track. It does not end well. In most battles of Man vs. Car, man will typically lose. If you're going to be a total moron and run out in front of a Formula One car, oh, geez. That's a car that will catch up to your moron body faster than you'd…
This seems like a bad idea, good sir. That being said, the next time United SportsCar racer Jordan Taylor goes missing, all we have to do is look for the swimming gear in the pile of branches.
My 944 has a problem: when the gas tank starts to empty, the back end gets light. I've ruined its perfect 50-50 weight balance by taking off the heavy glass hatch. I don't have any fancy-schmancy metal ballast just lying around, however, I could probably source quite a few Truck Nutz.
Those of you stuck in the arctic wasteland that is the East Coast and parts of the Mid-West right now have probably had a few hypothermia-induced fantasies about how to clear out the snow in front of your car. However, that flamethrower rig you've been concocting won't work. Allow XKCD to explain.
How do you top leaping over a Lamborghini? Do it with a pair of motorcycles blasting down a runway at 70 MPH.
Riding in bad weather is a risk some of us are willing to take. Adding ice and snow to the mix increases that risk exponentially. But I'm pretty sure adding 10,000 screws to your tires isn't the answer.
Look, we all love to ride where we're not supposed to. It's one of the many joys of the two-wheeled life. But common sense and basic ass preservation dictates that riding on active train tracks is a really bad idea. Here's proof.
Both the early and the not-so-early days of aviation were filled with inventors, visionaries, and dreamers. Men who dreamed of changing the world, with machines that seemed to ache at their very (sometimes nuclear) cores for the deaths of their pilots and the people that created them.
In the prank equivalent of the Most Dangerous Game, a husband convinces his wife she is about to die a gruesome death by head-on collision with a big rig.
This is Michael Baker. Michael is 20 years old, lives in Kentucky, and likes The Bucket List on Facebook. I know these things because Michael has not activated his Facebook privacy settings, which is something that's recommended in most cases but absolutely essential if you're going to post pictures of yourself…
A thirtysomething investment banker and his friend got bored one night so they decided they'd take a cab from New York to Los Angeles. How much would it cost them for the six-day journey? $5,000.