Forget all about Jimmy Fallon and that puddle of beige goo Lincoln has been calling cars of late. Let's go back to a time when Lincoln meant class. It meant style. It meant "personal luxury" and all of the loud polyester tie, wide lapel wearing glory that entails.

When you see the words "personal" and "luxury" used in the same sentence, a variety of things can come to mind. Whatever those things are, you have to assume that they're big, unpractical and American. So it shouldn't come as a surprise that the Lincoln Continental Mark series cars were FoMoCo's premier personal luxury cars from the baroque lux-focused late-'60s all the way through Detroit's awful Malaise years.

Even though the personal luxury car concept is patently ridiculous – a car that's neither sporty nor all that useful for anything other than transporting golf clubs and a brief case, and using a lot of gas in the process – they do have a certain allure to them. Aside from Rodney Dangerfield characters and the schlubs Lincoln used in its curious late-'60s ad campaign, plenty of 1972's classy gents were interested enough in the Lincoln Continental Mark IV Coupe to buy one new.

The Mark IV – a refined (and then, when emissions controls were tightened in 1973, curtailed) version of the '69-'71 Mark III – was exactly what Ford's then-CEO Lee Iacocca wanted. It was a Thunderbird chassis with some fancy bodywork and a fake Rolls Royce grille slapped on for a bit of style. The idea sounds silly; not at all unlike the badge engineering awfulness we've seen so much of ever since. But the final result is an unexpectedly graceful car that looks good everywhere from a Ritz Carlton driveway to a '70s Blaxploitation flick. It sold like hotcakes, so Iacocca must have had the right idea.

Full Disclosure: I've always loved these big, gorgeous, wallowing behemoths. In college I drove an '86 Lincoln Town Car, and always had my eye on the '78 Diamond Jubilee Mark V my neighbor was selling for way too much money. But I've always found the early Mark IVs the apogee of Lincoln's post 1960s baroque styling – a far cry from the same-as-everything-else beige blobs Lincoln serves up today.

Cecil Campbell was good enough to indulge my Lincoln preoccupation. He told me that when he bought the car 15 years ago, a '72 Lincoln Continental Mark IV was the farthest thing from his mind. He was actually looking for a '50s classic. But there it was, a sweet long nosed, short decked yellow beauty. So he scooped it up and the rest is history.

We drove the car around Williamsburg, Va., and despite it being a wretchedly cold and overcast day, people appeared out of the woodwork to gawk at the car. Little kids pointed and asked questions (I may have heard something in there about marine biology); old men took pictures and smiled wistfully; the bellhop at the stately Williamsburg Inn grinned and gave us a brisk salute as I wheeled it past Lexus and Mercedes SUVs parked along the hotel's roundabout. People still know classy when they see it, even if they don't have a guy wearing white loafers and a plaid sports coat telling them what to look for.

Exterior: 7/10

Lincoln's Continental Mark III – Iacocca's rebadged, Rolls-grilled Thunderbird – is a counterintuitively sexy car. Its long snout and short rear deck, outfitted with a fake continental spare tire bulge, gives the car pleasing dimensions. By 1972, FoMoCo had smoothed out some of the styling details, and the knife edged fenders weren't so in-your-face. With a longer body, lower stance, and larger grille, the Mark IV looks more like something that would show up in a film noir piece or a highly stylized comic book. It's awesome to behold.

Many (aside from our own Jason Torchinsky) would take issue with the yellow hue on Mr. Campbell's Mark IV, preferring a darker, more sedate color. But even the yellow works, giving it a garish look that kind of goes with its distinct, exaggerated styling.

Interior: 8/10

My biggest beef with modern cars is that their interiors give me a headache. In most models, there's too much going on. But that's not the case inside the '72 Mark IV. Lincoln deduced (correctly) that its 1972 buyer wanted the type of luxury that would effect a seamless transition from a leather and wood-bedecked office/boardroom to wood paneled home study/wife-and-kids-avoidance room.

Usually, you spend most of your time looking at the inside of a car, so why shouldn't it be soothing and comfortable. The Mark IV's brown leather couches feel sumptuous and rich, and the faux wood dash, although constructed entirely of cheap plastic, has an angular orderliness that reassures the undoubtedly male driver of this car (because honestly, what woman in her right mind would want to pilot such a monster) that his position as master of all he surveys is secure for now.

Acceleration: 7/10

Ford's 460 V8 is a hell of a thing. Installed in a smaller car, it would be like attaching a rocket engine to a wood and canvas WWI biplane. The Mark IV is more of a Saturn V kind of a car; heavy and straight. It's 212 hp mill has plenty power to launch a 5,000 pound sled from its pad (an upscale suburban driveway). After 1972, Detroit's muscle car era big block V8 prowess fell prey to tightening federal emissions standards, and once-mighty motors like the 460 were robbed of most of their grunt by the choking and squeezing of terribly engineered anti-pollution devices slapped onto motors that weren't meant to have them.

Unfortunately, the swan song of unfettered 460 Lincoln power came two years before the Mark IV's debut, when higher compression ratios made for a 365 hp power rating. Still, the emission control-free low compression V8 cranks out a respectable amount of power.

Braking: 4/10

I cannot tell a lie. The brakes on this thing were terrible. I'll give it the benefit of the doubt and assume that old brake fluid and/or an improperly adjusted pedal were partly at play here. But I think the main culprit was a tendency in the days when this car was designed to put small brakes and skinny tires on huge cars. I guess they didn't know any better, but still. There were a couple of times I thought I was going to plow right through a Kia or Toyota at a short light.

Ride: 7/10

Until relatively recently, Lincoln's schtick has been providing a cloudlike ride. The '72 Mark IV is no exception. I took it out on the freeway, and it was as if there were no irregularities on the road's surface. If ever there were an automotive equivalent to a sedan chair ride, this is it. As you glide along, the nose and sharp edged fenders, waaaay out in front, sway along lazily, as if guiding you along. The throaty burble of the huge V8 only adds to the car's I'm-American-and-better-than-everyone-else pleasure.

Handling: 3/10

That dreamlike ride turned into a nightmare whenever a turn broke up the morphine high serenity of straight line driving. The Mark IV's spongey suspension was great for soaking up pesky road bumps, but when it came time to swing the rudder one way or the other, well, let's just say that Captain Cook may have had it easier steering his ship around the Cape Horn in a gnarly storm. That once tranquil view of a placidly floating nose ornament turned ugly as the whole world lurched sideways and all of the car's prodigious weight hefted to the outer two wheels.

Gearbox: 7/10

Ford's C6 transmission was one of the best automatics they ever made. It was used with great success in big trucks, and it served well in Lincoln's ponderous land yachts, too. The only way you know the shift has happened is that the tone of the car's huge engine changes to a lower pitch. There is no lurch, hesitation, or slipping. You could probably tow a 30-foot-long boat with this car and its transmission would act the same way.

The only bummer about the C6 is that it doesn't have an overdrive, which would increase gas mileage a bit. But on a 5,000 pound car with a 7.5-liter V8, that's splitting hairs as far as most people are concerned. Owning a car like this means that you waste resources because you can.

Usability: 5/10

Other than looking like a baller, I can't think of too many practical uses for a '72 Lincoln Mark IV. You could drive it to work every day, but you'd have to buy a small Middle Eastern country to gas the thing up. Although its proportions are brobdignagian, there's little useable space inside. The trunk, which you would assume could fit at least three or four freshly murdered mob associates, could barely fit one, and that only with some creative hacking and lots of extra plastic sheeting.

Let's also not forget that parking a 19-foot-long car is a ludicrous way to spend time. I guess that's what valets are for.

But you can fit a bag of golf clubs in the trunk, and maybe even a small suitcase or two. Honestly, if you're taking a road trip in this thing, it means you have money to pay for $100 fill ups every couple of hours. If you can do that, why bring anything? You can just buy new stuff when you get to your destination.

Character: 8/10

Just look at the profile of this car. Its designer saw a low slung late-'40s fastback climbing up a mist covered canyon road in some old movie and said to himself – "Hey self, I think we can do that even now that plaid pants are cool." A Mark IV looks like the kind of car a millionaire detective would use to chase down the perpetrator of a string of grisly call girl murders (never mind that he was a client of one or two). At the same time, it could be – with the quick addition of a set of wide white wall tires, chrome curb feelers, and a La Cucaracha air horn – the ride of a top tier Harlem pimp.

In short, it's a jack of all trades for classy gents who have a stately statement to make. The Mark III wasn't quite low enough to have the simple comic book flamboyance of the Mark IV, and later Marks fell further and further away from that ultimate balance of pimptasticness that had been reach in that most pimptastic of years: 1972.

Collectibiliy: 6/10

Lincoln Mark IVs aren't the rarest cars in the world, and essentially, they're badge engineered Ford Thunderbirds (albeit really good ones). That doesn't help their collectibility. But they are beautiful cars that can be had in decent shape for not too much money. As time goes on and more disappear into recycling yards and backwoods hollers, they'll certainly become more rare. Let's also not forget that Lincoln seems to be on an inexorable march toward oblivion as it offers one unremarkable model after another. When the axe finally falls and Lincoln goes the way of the dodo, you might want to have one of these representations of the company's former luxury car prowess on hand as a reminder of its better days.

Besides, Lincoln books and movies are all the rage right now, so who knows. Maybe Lincoln cars are the next logical step.

61/100

• Engine: 460 cid/4V (7.5-liter) gasoline V8
• Power: 212 HP @ 4,400 rpm / 342 LB-FT @ 2,400 rpm
• Transmission: C6 3-speed automatic
• 0-60 Time: 10.8 seconds
• Top Speed: 121 mph (in a straight line)
• Drivetrain: Rear wheel drive
• Curb Weight: 4,993 LBS
• Seating: two huge leather benches
• MPG: 10-12 mpg
• original MSRP: $8,640 (about $47,000 in 2012 dollars)

Photo credit: Benjamin Preston

That's easy. The car in which my parents drove me home from Prince William Hospital as a newborn. Luckily, the tank didn't explode.

Juan Ponce de León, and everyone who has come since, willed himself to think that a swamp with no gold in it could be turned into a goldmine. (That's where Washington, D.C. planners got it right. They figured out that a marsh, not a swamp, is the essential ingredient in bullshit-to-gold alchemy.) Who knew that what was once home to swamp dwelling natives would become a haven for, well, you know, Florida Man.

It all started in the 1500s. You know the rest of the story ...

After a stunning racetrack debut complete with scantily clad, real life pinup girls, Speedycop and the Gang of Outlaws' airplane car made a respectable finish at this weekend's 24 Hours of Lemons race. We watched the Spirit of Lemons' build with anticipation, wondering how it would fare in an actual weekend-long schlep on a racetrack. It wasn't fast, but it didn't fall apart, and there's something to be said for that.

Race organizers gave the Cessna-on-a-Toyota-van platform Lemons' coveted Index of Effluency award at the Carolina Motorsports Park Sunday, a classy honor doled out to the team which, against all odds, manages to get the least-likely-to-win heap to actually finish the race. No one was saying that an airplane fuselage cobbled onto a beat-up van chassis wouldn't win, but let's just say there were some doubts that it would hold together long enough to be a contender.

Anton Lovett, an enthusiast so wild about 24 Hours of Lemons that he's driven in every race since the second one, was one of the drivers in Speedycop's gang. After many laps in the pilot's seat, this is what he had to say about driving the Spirit of Lemons:

It's terrible. It's a Lemons car. The rear suspension is chained down on both sides, so if you get above 5g on the turns, one of the wheels picks up off the ground. But it's great fun!

But that's what Lemons is all about; bringing weird ideas to fruition and racing them to a glorious finish/miserable death on a track with a horde of other strange/ugly contraptions.

A group of Russians calling themselves Team Sputnik (they gave me a rad Sputnik T-shirt) began their raceday tribulations hours before officials waved the introductory checkered flag. They had two wretched Nissans in the race, and one of the team's deranged members actually drove the one with no windows or heat to Kershaw, S.C. from Rockville, Md. at night. The mercury had dipped below freezing, but he stayed warm by donning a full suit of Russian furs.

NSF Racing (I've been told that the NSF stands for "non sufficient funds") had entered a Lemons first; a Chrysler K-Car. It was a bold move, to be sure, and with a chained rear suspension and American flag livery, promised to be a gripping, if exceptionally slow addition to the race. But there was a reason for the K-Car's solo superlative. Despite the pristine grandma car condition the team got it in (the air conditioning even worked!), NSF had to bow out of the race after only a few hours on the track the first day. The culprit was a gaping hole in the side of its engine block, caused by an errant connecting rod.

We hope to see more of the Spirit of Lemons. First off, what's not cool about an airplane car? It undoubtedly had the lowest drag coefficient of any car out there. Second, it seemed that Speedycop and his gang were being a little conservative during the shakedown cruise. I'm not saying I want to see the thing roll over, but it would be entertaining to see it pushed to or past its unknown mechanical limits.

Photo credit: Benjamin Preston

2) Because she's shredding the gnar on those cross country skis. Spring is the time to get radical on outdated gear, after all.

In Italy, old Fiat 500s are ubiquitous the way aging VW Beetles are everywhere else. They weren't around for as long – from 1957 until 1975 (as opposed to the Beetle's much longer five-plus decade run) – but they make a lot of sense on narrow Italian streets, so a lot of people bought them over the years. Here in the land of plenty, such tiny cars are almost non existent.

In fact, I'd never seen one outside of Europe until I caught sight of one in Santa Barbara, Calif. one day. It turns out that a Swiss chocolate maker living in the seaside town had seen one, too a few years ago, and decided that she wanted to raise the city's antique Fiat population by 100 percent. So she had another one shipped over from Italy.

(Full disclosure: As many of you know, my family is Italian. The way I see it, driving this car and the Topolino are at the top of my list of weird cars to drive. It's pretty much obligatory – especially after seeing so many of them on my fairly regular trips to Sicily to visit family. Since Maya lives in Santa Barbara and can't escape my pestering, she relented and let me take it for a spin.)

Maya Schoop-Rutten – owner and head maker of delicious chocolates at Chocolate Maya, in Santa Barbara – is from Geneva, Switzerland, and her first car was a Fiat 500. She said she loved it, but having lived in California since 1982, she didn't think much about getting another one. It's just not something you see all that often in the U.S. But one day, she someone driving one through town and fell in love with his car. The man had just relocated from Italy, and had his things shipped over in a container.

"I said how much I liked his Fiat and how much I'd like to have one, and he told me that he had another container to bring, and that he could help me find one and bring it back in his container," she said.

So her new friend did what any Italian in a similar situation would do – he called his mother. The Italian mama got on the job and found a 1969 Fiat 500 Berlina at a nearby junkyard. It was in decent shape and ran pretty good, and gradually, it made its way across the Atlantic Ocean and the continental U.S. in a container full of Italian household goods.

Maya spent a few grand to get her 500 here, but said it was a worthwhile investment. She had her shop's logo painted on each door, and said it does more to attract business than an ad in the local paper. Although its minuscule size keeps her from driving it on the freeway, Maya said she enjoys driving her Fiat more than the Audi she counts as her "normal" car.

"I'm always happy when I drive this car," she said.

Exterior: 8/10

Nothing says "Ciao, bella!" quite like a 500 – pronounced cinquecento (ching-kway-chen-toh) in Italian. Arguably cuter than a Volkswagen Beetle of similar vintage, Fiat's first city car possesses the sort of lovable character that makes all but the most hard hearted among us smile fondly when they see one.

If it looks a bit like a VW, though, that's because the 500 is basically Fiat's version of one. But lets compare. It holds fewer passengers than a Bug, but the 500 fits in narrower streets – molto importante in many of Italy's labyrinthine medieval alleyways – and gets better gas mileage. Its cloth sunroof, similar in size to the VW's, takes up a lot more space on such a small car. That means the Fiat is practically a convertible. In Mediterranean climates like Italy and Southern California, that's a definite plus.

Interior: 6/10

There's not much to the interior of these cars. A couple of tiny front seats, a rear bench that looks like it could maybe fit a couple of young children or a pile of groceries, and a tiny ashtray that had me wondering if the car had really been designed for Italians. But then I remembered that Italians don't really use ashtrays. Fottitene! That's what the windows are for!

Acceleration: 5/10

The Fiat 500 Berlina's air-cooled 22 hp 499 cc engine isn't exactly a dynamo. But the car tips the scales at less than 1,200 pounds, so it gets the job done. Maya doesn't drive the car on the freeway, and neither did I, so I couldn't tell you about what it's like. I don't think I'd want to. It had enough power to get out of its own way on city streets, but driving a tiny car that has a top speed of about 60 mph out on open tarmac amongst monstrous, speeding SUVs seems like somewhat of a death wish.

"I drive this car like I would drive a motorcycle; I have my eyes behind me," Maya pointed out. "People can't see you."

But breakneck acceleration isn't what's important in a car like this. It makes you feel like you're going fast, so the experience is fun. The unique, clattery air-cooled buzzing sound the engine makes is cheerful, much like the tune the Seven Dwarves sing on their way to work each day.

Braking: 5/10

You wouldn't think that 12-inch wheels would make for amazing brakes, and you'd be right. Luckily, the car is really light and relatively slow, so big, powerful brakes aren't important. The car stops when you hit the pedal, although I never got a chance to see if I could get the wheels to lock up by mashing it to the floor.

Ride: 6/10

With your face a few inches from the windshield and sun streaming in through the open roof, the giggle factor is too high to allow thoughts of ride quality to pervade your good time. In retrospect, the 500's ride was taut and Volkswageney, but the car was so small, it was difficult to compare with other cars. It was a great ride by go kart standards, and if you scoop one of these up for your morning commute, I doubt you'd have complaints of kidney bruising after six months of back and forth. It was, as they say in Italy, meglio di niente.

Handling: 7/10

Small, light, and low to the ground are all things that make cars fun to drive. These are all qualities the Berlina possesses, and the handling reflects as much. Braking and acceleration taken into account, I'm not so sure I'd feel super safe driving this car on a mountain road, but it would probably be fun to throw it around some curves. There's really no need to go that extreme, though. Urban street corners seemed huge from inside the diminutive Fiat, and made going around them all that much more fun.

Gearbox: 6/10

For such an old car, and for one so pedestrian, the gearbox was surprisingly precise. First gear is a non-synchro, but aside from the fact that the shifter was a standard car H-pattern setup, shifting gears in the old Fiat had a light feel – not unlike a motorcycle. It shifted smoothly, and combined with the engine's loud, rumbley buzz, working through the gears was an almost sporty experience. It wasn't as slick as a five speed on even the most boring modern cars, but I knew better that to expect high tech.

Usability: 8/10

If you were only going to drive this car around town, like Maya does, I'd say it's pretty darn usable. In most cases, those of us who are car owners drive cars that are way larger than what we actually need on a daily basis. You know, the "I need a pickup because I might have to carry a couple pieces of plywood later this year," or "My kids are violent psychopaths two times per month, so I need the capability to build a full sized electrified cage in the back to contain them" syndrome. Most of the time, it's just one person and a couple bags of groceries/gym clothes in a big ol' car. What better way to get one person and a few things from here to there than in a tiny car? The Japanese do it!

Then again, if you ever plan on taking road trips of more than 15 miles or carrying more than one other person farther than around the corner, a bigger car might be a better choice. People do take old Fiat 500s on long trips occasionally, but it's usually a novelty journey on podunk local highways.

Character: 9/10

An old Fiat 500 has more character in one googley headlight than an old Ford Explorer – which, by the way, is a jillion times bigger – has in its whole huge, gas guzzling body. If the car itself doesn't have enough character for you (who are you, anyway?), you really have to be a character to drive one in the U.S. of A., where road dominating behemoths rule the road.

But even in Italy, where these cars are much more common, cinquecenti are a joy to see as they bob through chaotic traffic.

Collectibility: 6/10

I'm not sure how collectible Fiat 500s are in Europe, but one thing is for sure: I see fewer of them every time I go back to visit. Here in the states, with the exception of Maya's and one the New York Times wrote a story about a few years back, I haven't seen any. Maybe now that Fiat (er, Chrysler?) is selling the new big 500s Stateside, Americans will gain an appreciation for its Lilliputian ancestor and begin importing them. In the meantime, you could add worse cars to your stable than a cute little Italian grocery getter. On the plus side, if you have to get parts shipped over from the mother country, they're small, light, and presumably cheap to ship.

66/100

• Engine: 499 cc air-cooled two-cylinder
• Power: 22 HP @ 4,600 rpm / 26 LB-FT @ 4,600 rpm
• Transmission: 4-speed manual
• 0-60 Time: 30 seconds
• Top Speed: Faster than a bicycle, but slower than a VW (60 mph)
• Drivetrain: Rear wheel drive
• Curb Weight: 1,146 LBS
• Seating: 2.5 people (comfortably)
• MPG: 43 mpg
• MSRP: decent ones start at about $5,000 and reach levels original buyers would find absurd

Photo credit: Benjamin Preston

You may have spent your entire winter holed up on a project car and forgotten that there's other stuff to do out there. But don't worry. Where skiing is concerned, sometimes it pays to lag. Deals and more pleasant weather conditions can sweeten your better-late-than-never experience. Here are some of the best places to go late season.

If you live on the East Coast, you might be tempted to go to Western Pennsylvania or the Catskills or whatever. Do yourself a favor and think bigger. If you have to stay in the east, at least treat yourself to New Hampshire or Maine. But you should really set your sights west. The mountains are taller and the snow lasts longer out there, and the climate isn't as humid, which typically means less ice.

Wherever you end up going, for the love of god make sure you check to see when they close for the season. It would suck to show up at the bottom of the lift Clark Griswold style, only to find out it's not running until the end of November. If you can, try to find some online lift ticket deals, too, as some resorts will offer them at the end of the season.

1. Colorado Front Range

Pros: It's close to Denver, which is cheap to fly in and out of from most places, and there are tons of resorts within a few hours drive of one another. A few of the more notable ones are Breckenridge, Arapahoe Basin, Vail, Keystone, and Copper Mountain. You can get to some of these resorts by bus from Denver – a huge plus if you're trying to save money.

Cons: Traffic on I-70 can be horrible during the weekend. To make matters worse, the Front range can be a bit thin on snow by the end of the season. Make sure to check reliable snow reports before you go, and not through a resort's website. The resorts' job is to make things seem awesome even if they aren't.

2. Salt Lake City, Utah

Pros: Again, reasonable flights in and out and a host of resorts to choose from. Snowbird and Alta are right next to each other, and Park City is just around the corner, as mountain towns go. They're all epic, and have gotten a decent amount of snow this year. For people who don't like snowboarders, Alta is skier only. For those who want to ski in May, Snowbird has a tendency to stay open late in the season.

Cons: Utah has weird liquor laws, so do a little pre-trip sleuthing if you expect to partake in nightlife during your stay. It's also important to note that a thermal inversion layer in the valley Salt Lake City sits in has caused some of the worst air quality in the country there this winter. So keep that in mind if you want to spend any time in Utah's capital city.

3. Lake Tahoe, California

Pros: Lake Tahoe is rad, and you know it. There are ten ski resorts in the same town, and the nightlife is unparalleled. Don't like raging with a bunch of 20-something ski bums (and 30- to 50-something ski bums who still rage like they're 20-somethings)? Head down the mountain to Reno and get some chips at the blackjack table. With Squaw Valley, Alpine Meadows, Heavenly, and seven others in the same place, you won't run out of things to do, and can gaze at the beautiful lake if you don't feel like skiing. But you will, and spring snow conditions are looking up.

Cons: Because of its relative proximity to Sacramento and the San Francisco Bay area, Tahoe's slopes can get pretty busy during the weekend. But again, the nightlife doesn't suffer.

4. Whistler Blackcomb, British Columbia

Pros: When the snow melts down here in the U.S. of A., you can usually count on good ol' Canada to have a pretty fresh supply up there. They've already gotten something like 30 feet this year. With more than 5,000 vertical feet of drop, Whistler Mountain stays open until mid-April. Blackcomb is open into June, and I can't even tell you what that means as far as partying and nightlife goes.

Cons: Unless you live in Washington State, it might be a little pricier to get to Whistler. But seriously, it's only a couple of hours drive from Vancouver, so what are you waiting for?

5. Maine

Pros: Ok, so you absolutely, positively have to go East Coast, don't you. You couldn't just buck up and go to Jackson Hole, Wyoming or Telluride, Colorado, which are way radder. Fine, fine. Go to Maine. For East Coast skiing, it's pretty decent (as long as it isn't covered with ice). It must be good, because you always see some crazy Maine people competing in professional skiing and snowboarding events out West (although they usually move to Utah or Colorado to train). I hear tell that Sunday River and Saddleback are nice.

Cons: Maine is an odd place to fly in and out of. (And did I mention it's on the East Coast?) You could fly into Boston, but it takes hours to drive to the mountains from there. Plus, if you're not careful, you might run into that crazy mailman from Funny Farm.

Photo credit: Shutterstock

Will North Carolina have to relinquish its "First in Flight" license plate slogan to Connecticut? Evidence suggests that a German-born inventor began flying around the New England state nearly two and a half years before Orville and Wilbur Wright launched their now famous Flyer 1 at Kill Devil Kills, N.C. in 1903.

More than 80 articles from period papers and technical journals chronicle several successful flight tests by Bridgeport, Connecticut's Gustave Whitehead from 1901 to 1903. Unfortunately for Whitehead, his knack for financial organization and self promotion was light years behind the Wrights, who successfully eclipsed his efforts to gain recognition over the years.

For Wilbur Wright, keeping his family's aviation achievements at the forefront of world consciousness was a serious business. He badmouthed Whitehead's work throughout his life, even calling the pre-Wright flights a "legend" in 1945. Documentation has been uncovered suggesting that the Smithsonian Institution's Air and Space Museum, in an effort to keep Wright Flyer 1 in its collection, agreed not to stray from the Wrights-first-in-flight party line.

On Dec. 17, 1903, the Wrights succeeded in getting the Wright Flyer 1 off the ground for a few flights of 10-20 seconds, flying less than 200 feet in a straight line, about 10 feet off the ground. A photographer was on hand to record the now famous moment.

By contrast, the Bridgeport Herald reported that on Aug. 14, 1901, Gustave Whitehead piloted his No. 21 Flyer over a half mile of Connecticut turf at an altitude of about 40 feet. A remarkable machine, Whitehead's aircraft had wings that folded along the sides of the fuselage so that it could be driven like a car as well. The Herald reporter noted that it could get up to 30 mph on rough road – not a light feat by the day's automotive standards.

The controversy has been the subject of scholarly debate at various times over the past 110-plus years. Detractors of the Whitehead-first theory dismiss the Bridgeport Herald's 1901 article as myth, but Whitehead's aeronautical exploits were also documented in a Sept. 1903 article in Scientific American. Of a series of affidavits collected more than three decades after the Wrights' claimed first flight status, many corroborated Whitehead's position as number one, although a few denied that he had made the flights first.

What does all this mean? In the long run, probably not much more than the amendment of a few monument placards and, perhaps, some long overdue credit to the real first person to fly a powered, heavier than air plane. But the Wright brothers' impact on aviation was and is still huge. Nearly all airplanes are still based upon their three-axis control design.

Even though Gustave Whitehead's plane was first, when's the last time you saw a dragon-winged boat lofting overhead?

Photo credit: Wikipedia

Saudi Arabia is a special place. It has many venerated traditions, one of which unfortunately, is that every woman must have a male guardian, or mahram. The mahram is usually a woman's husband or father, and their permission is required for most things, including travel. Yes, believe it or not, this is a real thing. In 2013.

But Saudi Arabia's ridiculously strict woman-oppressing rules have been relaxed a little bit recently, allowing women to travel domestically without mahram permission. That didn't stop a particularly conservative passenger on Saudi Airlines Flight VS 1108 from holding up a flight from Jeddah to Dammam because the flight attendant wasn't accompanied by her mahram.

As if it isn't bad enough that the Saudi government won't let women drive and sends text messages to mahrams when their chattels leave the country, the man insisted that every woman on the flight needed her mahram present. You really can't make up this kind of shit.

The joke turned out to be on the old sexist though. Other passengers on the plane seemed to care more that their flight would be late than they did about keeping archaic oppressions intact, and began arguing with the man. Finally, the pilot called airport security, who removed the man and let the flight crew get on with things without bringing a crew of mahrams aboard.

Photo credit: Associated Press

The question of what to do when you're in Florida, high out of your mind, and in possession of an 11-inch-long knife has been answered: You should attack traffic. Well, maybe that's not what you should do, but the highness and knife-wielding are questionable activities, too, as is hanging around in the Sunshine State.

But that's what Stuart Ross Paterson decided to do while he was similarly afflicted this week. Police responded to complaints about his behavior, and found him waving his knife menacingly at a couple of motorists stopped at an intersection.

One of the cops pulled his gun on Paterson, but Paterson continued freaking out, unfazed. He knew Paterson from other incidents, and when he called him by his nickname – Rossee – Paterson stopped waving his knife around and was arrested without further incident. Police found a bag of something that looked like drugs in Rossee's pocket. Go figure.

Photo credit: Shutterstock; Monroes County Jail

Track: LaFerrari looks LaAwesome and would be amazing to fling around the track.

Burn: The McLaren is a super car, but if I had to choose, I'd say that the aesthetic doesn't appeal to me. Oh yeah, it's also not a Porsche or a Ferrari.

Have you ever wanted to drive an ambulance, lights blazing and sirens wailing in rush after glorious rush to rip people from the jaws of death and take them to the hospital? It can be pretty cool, but usually, driving an ambulance is all about getting a patient to the proper care with the least amount of patient-upsetting craziness possible. After all, you don't want someone to die of a heart attack after you've already saved them from dying of a heart attack.

I used to drive ambulances for the Virginia Beach Volunteer Rescue Squad – known around town as Rescue 14 – but the ones I piloted were basically vans with huge, gear filled boxes mounted on the back. In the old days, fire emergency service departments drove ambulances that looked like the one the Ghostbusters used to rid New York City of fiendish ghouls back in the '80s.

Although it's been years since I've flipped on the lights and sirens and watched traffic before me part like the Red Sea before Moses (but usually only when I laid on the air horn), I've always had a hankering to get behind the wheel of the '72 Miller Meteor Cadillac ambulance Rescue 14 has had sitting in one of its back bays since Ecto-1's glory days.

Full disclosure: I wanted to drive this old ambulance so bad, I pestered its crew chief and (now) only qualified driver, Charlie Gurley, until he relented. Although I'd started it up during a night duty when no one was around, there has always been a rule around Rescue 14 that the car is Charlie's baby, so his permission is needed to take it for a spin.

This rig hails from the days when people called ambulances meatwagons. Gurley – who was a Virginia Beach firefighter from 1963 to 1998 and has been a member of Rescue 14 for 33 years –said that when the squad first purchased the Cadillac the better part of three decades ago, someone had already been using it as a hearse. So the squad reversed its role, so to speak, painted it in Rescue 14's catchy white and green livery, and put it into service saving lives. But a Cadillac ambulance, while undoubtedly the classiest looking rescue vehicle money can buy, just isn't as easy to use as a van or box truck. It wasn't long before the '72 was shifted to the back burner of the squad's fleet as newer, more capacious Ford vans stole the lifesaving limelight.

These days, the old Miller Meteor has been relegated to parade duty and classic car shows. Just a few years ago, the squad's administration decided not to renew its certification as a state-licensed emergency vehicle. Although it had been grandfathered in before, the loss of EV stature is permanent. Unless the Commonwealth of Virginia is taken over by a renegade group of compound dwelling libertarians and/or extraterrestrials, it will never again carry a patient to the hospital. It could, however be put into service as a ghost removal car. Hmmm...

Exterior: 8/10

Any Cadillac from the company's founding until the mid/late-'70s is bound to be a classy looking machine, and Miller Meteor's ambulance and hearse bodies are no exception. Neither as roomy inside as a van nor as ostentatious as the '59 Cadillac service chassis Ghostbusters made famous, the '72 Cadillac ambulance/hearse is a tasteful collection of elegant lines and characteristic Cadillac éclat. Looking at the thing in profile, it's easy to see how much more actual patient space it would have if the driver's seat was over the engine. But that long Caddy snout just looks so cool.

The original Miller Meteor customers could get these in practically any color, but VBVRS's uncomplicated white and green livery shows off the unit's array of lights in a way darker colors never would. If it had a crew, they would be wearing white uniforms, which I can tell you are great fun when various fluids are splattering about.

Interior: 7/10

The cockpit isn't much to speak of. Plain vinyl bench seats, a black dash, manual window cranks, a two-way radio, and a huge Federal Interceptor siren switch console. The seats are comfy enough, and the windows are huge, giving excellent forward visibility. Compared with today's ambulance cockpits – small spaces to begin with that are crammed with communications equipment and boxes of nitrile gloves – this one is cavernous.

But the back, man, the back is where it's at! The rear passenger compartment has everything you'd need to keep one severely ill or injured patient alive for a while, including onboard oxygen, first aid supplies, spine boards, and a special radio for communicating with the ER doctors. This particular ambulance has a special feature, too; hooks in the ceiling that drop down to hold two extra stretchers. With two stretchers hanging from the ceiling and two on the floor, you can fit four patients in this rig (although taking care of them in the tight space left over would be damn near impossible). Back before the powers that be decided to take away the old unit's EV certification, it also had a defibrillator and a full complement of resuscitation drugs.

Acceleration: 6/10

Even though this ambulance weighs more than three tons, it's a Cadillac with a gasoline-burning 472 V8. It's got some punch. In direct comparison with new rigs powered by state of the art turbo diesel mills, the Miller Meteor Caddy might seem a little stodgy. But staring down the long nose feels like sighting an artillery piece, particularly at night when the eerie flash of red and white lights bounces off the hood as you hurtle down the road with the sirens wailing. With 365 ft-lbs of torque at 2400 rpm, the big block has plenty of power to get all that gear and unfortunate humanity moving in a relative hurry.

But acceleration and top speed is beside the point where emergency vehicles are concerned. What most people don't realize is that when you're driving an ambulance, you can only go so fast anyway. At best, putting the pedal to the metal is going to do is scare the crap out of the person in the back, who's already having the worst day of their lives. At worst... Well, you don't want to create more patients.

Braking: 4/10

Cars of this era aren't known for having fantastic brakes, but this one is in the running for the distinct honor of having mediocre brakes. I'll attribute some of their softness to age, but I'm willing to bet that they were never all that great. What can I say; the brakes stopped the ambulance, and it's really heavy. There's something to be said for that.

Ride: 7/10

Compared with riding in modern full-size ambulances, which are sprung like dump trucks (because basically, they are dump trucks with ambulance bodies where the dump beds would normally be), riding in an old Cadillac ambulance is (as it should be) like floating on a cloud. Active air suspension mitigates the heavy load it carries, and in typical classic Cadillac style, soaks up road bumps like the ultra-absorbent gauze the EMT in the back uses to control severe bleeding.

Handling: 3/10

As with all Detroit behemoths, handling is not this one's forte. The soft suspension that makes driving in a straight line so pleasant causes the car to dive into turns. This isn't helped by the high roofline and complement of heavy equipment on board. But the handling isn't so terrible as to make the thing undriveable. Honestly, the driver's concern over whatever's happening in the back will (should) call for slower turns anyway. Ever been yelled at by an angry patient/paramedic combo for driving like an asshat? Unless you have no conscience, it's not a good feeling.

Gearbox: 7/10

Cadillac's engines and transmissions were amazing during Detroit's glory days. It's difficult to find fault with a well built 472, and the same can be said for the beefy automatic transmission that handles all that big block power. When you're underway, you can't even tell the transmission is there, and that's a plus where ambulances are concerned.

Usability: 6/10

In a magical place where emergency calls are few and far between (like, say, some remote corner of the Shenandoah Valley), a Cadillac is an ideal platform for ambulance duty. It's big enough inside to fit a patient and a care provider, and has the power to get the suffering victim to help quickly. But if the calls are neverending, the Cadillac ambulance would be a pain in the ass to negotiate all day. First, you'd be hunched over trying to move around in the back, and second, diving around turns would make it difficult to work. Also, without real truck mirrors (it has those lame little cadillac ones that probably weren't even big enough for a paisley upholstered Fleetwood limo of the same era) rearward visibility is almost nil when you're backing up.

But if you were in some lovely rural hamlet with a heatstroke case in the summer, one or two chainsaw amputations every fall, ice fishing frostbite in winter, and a handful of severe hayfever sufferers each spring, Miller Meteor's Cadillac ambulance would be a grand conveyance. It's a Cadillac, not an old manky van, so it looks smooth. Most of the time, you'd be sitting in the local Dairy Queen parking lot waiting for the next disaster to happen and chatting up the waitresses (I'm totally superimposing '70s truck stop onto rural Diary Queen scene here). Not too many better places to be doing that than in a big ol' Caddy.

Character: 9/10

Does this thing have character? Let's see, Cadillac panache with station wagon utility, red and white flashy lights and a loud siren, a number of transported dead people to its credit, and, oh yeah, ECTO-1. That question just answered itself. Basically, Cadillac took something beautiful – a Series 75 limo chassis – and gave it to someone else to make it useful. The new people made it beautiful and useful, and had the foresight to ensure that the exhaust still vented off enough 472 V8 burble to sound cool.

Collectibility: 6/10

A Cadillac ambulance's collectibility really depends upon its year and condition. A '72 isn't the rarest thing in the world, and the fact that this one started life as a hearse (hahaha!) doesn't really add to its credentials. But they're getting rarer by the year. So let's say you pick up an old hearse or ambulance with lights and sirens that still work. Your town's parade organizers will love you and in ten or 20 years you might have something valuable. If you can say that a famous rockstar died of a coke overdose in the back of your meatwagon, you've got it made in the shade, my friend.

63/100

• Engine: 472 cid (7.7-liter) gasoline V8
• Power: 345 HP @ 4,400 rpm / 365 LB-FT @ 2,400 rpm
• Transmission: 3-speed automatic
• 0-60 Time: Half a set of patient vital signs
• Top Speed: If you went faster than 80, you'd end up in jail
• Drivetrain: Rear wheel drive
• Curb Weight: More than 6,000 LBS
• Seating: 2 in the front, 2-4 in the back
• MPG: 7-8 MPG, downhill in a tailwind
• MSRP: crappy ones are a few grand, but the restored ones can cost upwards of $20,000

Photo credit: Benjamin Preston