Oh yeah, same exact vibe I’m going for. I willingly own a Cadillac Cimarron.
Oh yeah, same exact vibe I’m going for. I willingly own a Cadillac Cimarron.
Well, my “if I won the lottery” fantasy only requires a few million. One by one, I’d tell my mates to come check out my new place, which turns out to be a condo at Circuit of the Americas. While we’re overlooking my collection of mint-condition shitbox cars that have no reason to be preserved, I’d hand them a check for enough money to wipe out their debts and buy a house… along with a non-disclosure agreement.
Then I’d disappear for a while, taking a road trip around the country without any sort of financial or scheduling concerns. Just show up in a random city, spend a few weeks seeing all the sights at my own pace, then moving along whenever I feel like it.
Going from millions to billions, I doubt I’d deviate from that plan too much. Once I’ve got myself and my mates set for life, I guess I’d set the remaining 4.9 billion pounds aside for any impulse buys, like an F1 team or a couple hundred politicians.
For those Explorers and Tahoes, the only tell-tale sign is to look at the roof. Civilian models will have these roof rails, police models won’t.
Contingency, from Local58
Emergency broadcasts of any sort, fictitious or no, already put me on edge, but the idea of the US government having one ready to go, specifically to order people to commit suicide to spite some kind of existential threat, is especially chilling.
I’d remove my personal need for sleep, making it completely voluntary. But I wouldn’t tell anyone about it. I could use an extra eight hours of free time every day.