Unfortunately, we didn't install Kevin Doyle's stereo. Whoever did, found a stash of crack and called the cops. Upon returning to the car stereo / gold jewelry retail location, K-Doyle was detained by the police, who then found more crack in his pockets. K-Doy now faces charges for possession of and intent to distribute the drug. The only thing that surprised us more than the decision to turn the guy in was that there wasn't home-brew meth found as well. [via WJZ]

Ah, the venerable Stutz Blackhawk. This '71 has a Paxton-blown Ford 428 and a claimed 700 horsepower, which is probably 580 more than the Johnson; not only that, Elvis Presley and Jack Lemmon are known to have ridden in it. And, the clincher: mink carpeting! Only problem we can see is that it's a little too restrained.


You really can't go wrong when you roll into Palm Springs in a Zimmer Golden Spirit; why, you could have several underage prostitutes chugging Dom Pérignon in the back and a loaded .45 sitting on the passenger seat and still get the key to the city. This '82 has a mere 4700 miles on the clock, so you know the luxury is still in full effect.


If you were having a tough time choosing between the Johnson, the Zimmer, and the Stutz, just wait until you take a look at this fine, fine, superfine 2000 Phoenix, manufactured by the legendary Phoenix Coachworks. The seller doesn't say much about it, but we think the photo says it all: this car will hit the proles' sensibilities with the impact of your 350-pound Russian bodyguard's brass knucks on some heckling scumbag's nads.


Aaah, the Excalibur, always a strong contender in a field such as this. Any Excalibur simply excretes class from every orifice, of course, but this '88 was actually featured on the TV show Lives of the Rich and Famous! The miserable worms that will gaze at you in awe from their chump-change rattletraps need never know that it's powered by a Chevy 305.


Let's say you just got your town's zoning laws changed to allow you to build a 10-story strip club with a giant neon sign spelling out "BUTT NAKED OH YEAH" in 100-foot animated letters visible from geostationary orbit, and you need to reward the city council members you paid off. What kind of car is best suited for taking them out for a night on the town? How about this '88 Tiffany? Not only does it reek of the sweet smell of success, you'll truly be rollin' in your 5.0, because this baby features genuine Ford power.

Naturally, such an important question needs to be put before the Jalopnik readership. Vote early and vote often!

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An intoxicated driver, apparently coked to the gills, attempted to elude capture by the po-pos in England by driving into a field. The result? Four damaged patrol units, the offending driver's car in a ditch and a crop formation that would even give M. Night Shyamalan an uncontrollable case of the jibblies. [Thanks to Haller for the tip.] – Davey G. Johnson

Driver comes a cropper in police chase [Metro, UK via Boing Boing]

Related:
FIA Not Down With Booger Sugar [Internal]

Apparently the FIA has something against Colombia and its special brand of marching powder. While in pre-European Mexico, it was just fine for Montezuma to lay on the shore with his coca leaves and pearls, it is apparently not — in the sport-arbiting organization's estimation — okay to drive a racing car with traces of cocaine in one's system, something that Luca Moro found out the hard way after testing positive post-Spa 24 Hours.

We too, are against pre-race coke snorting. Instead, we think the FIA should mandate that F1 drivers take a big hit of the crack rock out of a shattered Xenon bulb on the starting line and then run on a World of Outlaws-spec dirt track for 10 laps. Now that would put the energy back into Formula One! Bill France, Jr., you steal this idea and you're through. Through y'hear? – Davey G. Johnson

Drug bust in GTs [GrandPrix.com via Autoblog]

Related:
Honey, I Shat the Yacht Bed: F1, Coke 'n' Hookers in Monaco [Internal]

From the "something that will most likely never happen to us" file, here's a tidbit from popbitch sent in by our pal Cole Coonce, who once rode his bicycle to Harper's Ferry:

Every year at the Monaco Grand Prix, a luxury yacht weighs anchor in the harbour and acts as a brothel for the drivers. One of the crew members recently revealed his favourite story.

A couple of years ago, a recently retired F1 favourite disappeared into a suite with two hookers, but asked the crew to watch his phone as he was expecting a call. His wife was in hospital in labour. When the phone rang, a crew member duly took the phone into the suite to find the bed covered in shit. The star had taken so much cocaine he'd lost control of his bowels. Still, this didn't phase the driver, as he calmly took the call from his mother-in-law, informing him that his child had been born. How sweet.

Fangio never woulda shat the bed.

Related:
Enrich Bernie Further! Buy an F1 Mousepad! [Internal]