www.newton.acrossthebow.com/cru_data_lgf.pdf
www.newton.acrossthebow.com/harry_read_me.pdf
[Image found in here.]

While combing through my leftover posts, I found this image of a post-ignosecond from the early 1900s. Can’t make out the make of the vehicle, but apparently the mishap hap’d in Australia.
Given the price of a state-of-the-art vehicle at that time, this was a very expensive oops.
[Found here.]
Very little needs to be said about this brickbat mobile that isn’t intuitively obvious to the casual observer, except that the roof screams for asphalt shingles and vinyl gutters. Aluminum sliding windows would have been a nice touch. No need for a carwash either, as a vinegar solution with a wire brush should keep the efflorescence in check for months. Pure efficient genius. We’ll even give him credit and kudos for the keystones.
Although he’ll never get a girlfriend built like a brick youknowwhat, at least Mr. Mason knows how to perpendicular park.
[Found here.]

What to do when your Babe Magnet bites the dust? Rent it out! Face it, there’s value in everything, and in this case, the upholstery still works.
Tattoo Mullet Ricky (as he’s known to locals) has made several economical improvements to his efficiency unit, adding solar screening to reduce the heat gain, and a semi-recessed composter for waste recycling.
His night job breaking down pallets for firewood gave him the idea to upgrade his living space. Now he can get a decent day’s sleep without being shooed from bus benches and dumpster enclosures. At night, he rents out the room to those less fortunate than he in exchange for something that kinda makes our skin crawl just to think about it.

Definitely not a babe magnet, but at that age I wasn’t interested and didn’t care.
I remember cruising around a lot in this rockin’ mobile (in my mind, in the basement, in my underwear) with the (imaginary) wind blowing through my flattop, and every station on the (pretend) radio playing either “WipeOut,” “Beechwood4-5789,” or “Witch Doctor.” No commercials.
And I’d completely forgotten about all of that until I slowly cruised through a Russian website. As soon as I spotted an Original BunkMobile, I jammed my right foot through the cardboard box brake pedal, broke the the toilet plunger dowel that served as an emergency handbrake, and I spun out on Dead Man’s Curve. With quick reflexes, I recovered in time to right-click and click “Save Image As.” No injuries, no damage; brakes are good, tires fair.
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But that was my second ride. My first ride was a chrome steel tube framed chair that hooked over the back of the front seat of Poppa Strutt’s 1960 Chevy BelAire.
The red-vinyl seat came equipped with a cloth cinch-belt, a little plastic steering wheel with a horn that Pappa Strutts dismantled before I knew that it was supposed to beep, and absolutely nothing to anchor the car seat to the car.
It was designed so that on an emergency stop, the Lil’ Roadmaster Car Seat launches Lil’ Roadmaster into the rearview mirror to prevent Lil’ Roadmaster’s noggin from penetrating the windshield. Pure efficient genius.
Which brings up a good question: Why aren’t we all dead?
[Image from here.]