None of us blame Jeremy Clarkson for exiling himself, as some days we wish we could do the same. Decision time, Wilson. What's your deserted island car?
Let's assume we're taking about somewhere like Johnston Atoll, with a large and convenient mile-long chunk of smoothed asphalt but high shipping costs. You get one car and enough spare parts, tools and fuel to keep it running in perpetuity.
I've never driven one, but something tells me I'd never get tired of a Porsche 959. It's one of the most ultimate performance cars ever built, but not in the obnoxious style of the Veyron. This isn't a car designed to do everything, it's a car that's designed to drive. And if I've got a track to myself that's all I want to do. Fancy electronics mean nothing. Contrast stitching means nothing. Satellite radio means nothing. This is a driver's car and I'm bound to name my plot of land Driver's Island. Also, should I need to go off the beaten path for any reason, the rally-inspired Porsche can raise itself to 7.4 inches above the ground.
If the professor can make a radio out of a coconut, you can certainly pick just one car to drive forever on your empty island.
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