"It's like making out with a high school girlfriend and going for second base, only to suddenly realize — she isn't stopping you this time. Why isn't she stopping me? She always stops me."
That's what it's really like to drive a DeLorean DMC-12, a car so plugged into the collective unconscious that it's possible to feel nostalgia for the thing, even if you weren't alive when it was new.
Most reviews of the DeLorean fall on the same tropes - it's not very fast, it's not very good, never meet your heroes.
This review is different. It welcomes the emotions, it doesn't fight them, it happily gets lost in the details. There are the weirdo seatbelt buckles, the giant switches, the quivering needles, the redundant headlight dash light, and the tractor-heavy unassisted steering. These are the things that actually absorb you in the moment, along with the breaking tidal waves of nostalgia.
And oh does it feel good that the inimitable style of Regular Car Reviews is back, after their dear sweet Echo got lunched and the Internet came to their rescue. May RCR keep 'em coming for quite some time.