Harrison Whitmore

Another 575M with “barely driven” in the listing? I remember the last one that crawled out of a garage with nine thousand miles and a spotless history. Sold, bragged about, and then the seller discovered the clutch had been slipping since the day it left the factory. Nobody on that thread said anything about a pre-purchase inspection.

Real Madrid stadium, no Madrid team in the NFL, and somehow it’s still the Bernabéu’s most profitable fixture of the year.

Clean history and recent maintenance, sure. Where’s the proof, though? Ask the seller for the service book and the Japanese shaken records before anyone bids.

Twenty-nine thousand miles in eighteen years. That’s not a car, it’s a museum exhibit that someone was too scared to drive to the shops.

Battery-swap trucks, a supply deal, and “reportedly growing orders” with no numbers anywhere. Show me the order book before I believe the growth part.

Sixty-seven grand for a pickup in Amsterdam? Show me the parking space first.

Gutted by the “news” that GM wasn’t going to ruin a sports car nameplate. Shocking, truly.

Seventy-three thousand miles, a “documented run of recent mechanical replacements,” and a dealer-listed Targa on a platform that exists to make bidders feel clever. Here’s how it ends: a dealer buys it cheap, sends it through a “reconditioning” line that ticks the boxes on the service sheet, and sells it to someone who believes the word “documented” means “sound.” Those receipts prove the parts were bought, not that the car was fixed right.

Flying cars were always a rich man’s toy with a helipad problem.

Billionaires get a one-time tax; the rest of us get the monthly bill, forever.

Shocking, truly. A 360 Modena with a manual gearbox, sold with no reserve on BaT, which is basically the automotive equivalent of a headline written by a bored intern. Anyone who’s watched a single Ferrari listing knows the hook: low miles, a fresh service, a shifter that’s been “converted” to sound like a tech upgrade. Twenty-two thousand miles on a 25-year-old car isn’t news, it’s a pension plan with a tailpipe.

Ninety years of Mopar and they still can’t tell us what the “27” in the name actually means. Is it the model year, the number of parts, or just a marketing guess?

Full maintenance records, sure. Great. Now show me the receipts for the 1983 part, because a clean Oregon title and a glossy spreadsheet don’t tell me what the car actually went through in its first forty years. “European Delivery” also means the car spent its early life in Stuttgart, and that’s where the paperwork tends to get selective.

Twenty-nine and already getting the “look back at his career” treatment. Feels like yesterday he was the Manchester kid everyone said would light up the Premier League, and now the retrospectives are queuing up like he’s been retired for a decade. Brutal. Football fans lose their minds over a 22-year-old, then pretend they never doubted him once he’s 27 and on the bench.

Another 888 with a race-spec makeover, and somehow the price will still be a crime.

Thousands signed up to be shown the door voluntarily, and somehow it’s still the workers who had to be talked into it. Nothing says “great British engineering” like a queue for redundancy.

Honda plans to sell these parts from March 2027, which is a long wait for anyone already tuning a car they bought in 2019. Sounds like they’re racing everyone except the customers.

I want to know who pays $340k to drive 68 miles and quits—what failed first, the owner or the resale fantasy?

Over here we call paying for something and never receiving it fraud — unless it’s the trains, in which case it’s a timetable. Tesla’s answer, silence, would at least raise a laugh at the DVLA. British drivers are forever told the future is a software update and a prayer. Funny how the cheque always clears before the apology.

McCarthy’s red lists evaporated; this file actually existed.