Walking up 22nd Street Hill is serious business for those of us not quite in the shape we'd like to be. It demands no smoking and an application of earnest Southeastern post-hardcore. And on the varying incline up 25th to Western Ave., we noticed a certain stride to the music, which got us thinking about the purposeful nature of certain cars. And we were surprised by what we saw. A last-gen Mustang didn't have it. A Mercury Villager and its Nissan Quest sibling did. Cars we'd never thought much of actually seemed to have a demeanor to them that actually mattered whereas some surprising examples didn't — a new Camry, the most performance-oriented of the breed absolutely didn't, and while we're a fan of the late-model Civics, the hybrid model pulling out of the Von's parking lot seemed lost. It may be a surgical transport tool, but it doesn't resemble a doctor born for a purpose. On the other hand, an early-'80s Toyota pickup absolutely did. Honestly, shutting off our brain and just looking for the intent in a car's makeup opened our eyes to a whole 'nother take on appreciating automotive styiling. Try it yourself and report back.
So basically, cars who are good at one thing and one thing only got it, whatever IT is. The vaulted X-factor Top Gear always goes off about, I'm assuming. In which case my friend will be very pleased that his Mercury "Pillager" has got it in spades. A real man's car, loaded up with fishing poles and paintball guns and power tools and dried vomit from driving drunk girls home from frat parties (eww).
The first example I can think of: if anything, 80s TransMaroBirds don't have it at all. No matter how hardcore their select enthusiasts may be, the rest of the emometalcore goatee-sporting white trash jerkoffs will prove otherwise. Also, at this rate all new cars won't have it. I'm too lazy/tired to think of any more.