Sweet, sexy cars, and other things I wouldn't feel guilty owning.

As my readership (I know, right? I have a freaking readership!) surely knows by now, I'm really into cutting edge stuff.

Like this.

I also have a thing for sexy cars. I know, I know. I'm supposed to be a giant tree hugger: bikes and Gulf Restoration Network and rallies, etc. But there's just something about the Lexus SC430 that makes me a little weak in the knees.

I wonder why.

But I've always felt guilty about cars (the Xterra especially). Now, though, I don't have to - and by now, I mean, "When I get a billion dollars to buy these cars with."

WANT.

That jaw-dropping piece of concept genius above? Four wheel drive. Electric. A fucking Jaguar. 1180 pounds of torque, zero to 62 in 3.4, with a top speed of 205. THIS IS AN ELECTRIC VEHICLE. THIS SHOULD NOT BE REAL. The next thing you know, Lamborghini will be doing secret test drives of a direct-injection V12 carbon fiber supercar on the Autobahn.

Oh wait.

If the Jaguar, the Lamborghini Lota (above), or this Bugatti of Sweet, Sweet Electric Death seem a little to upscale for you, why not go Peugeot? (Clever, I know.)

Sex is electric. And black.

If you go more for looks than utility, speed, or raw sex appeal, there are some other options:

Correction: one fat, blue, delicious option.

Of course, none of these are at all financially feasible - Hot Sexy Blue Thing above (also known as the Delahaye Saoutchik Roadster) goes for a cool $6 million, seeing as it's one of a kind - but even the "poor people's options" aren't cheap.
For now, I suppose, I'll have to be content with my Monster, which, as proved once again last night, can take the roads of New Orleans infinitely better than any electric-sweet-confection of doom above.