“…Like the fake muscles on

“…Like the fake muscles on Batman’s suit!”

In an age of colossal SUVs, the most colossal of them all is parked in front of my building every morning. It’s a Cadillac Canyonero, er, I mean a Cadillac Escalade, and it looks like two of the Griswold’s station wagons from National Lampoon’s Vacation stacked on top of each other and covered in white plastic.


It’s got blue flashing LEDs in each of its four halogen headlight mounts, a gold-plated trailer hitch, and a Bronx-accented voice that comes from under the hood — “This car is protected by OnStar. Back…Up.” That curt message, combined with the New York State Fraternal Order of Police anti-ticket medallion on the dashboard, gives this ridiculous car an air of mystery. Each morning, the car is surrounded by bike messengers and delivery boys who crouch down to look at the flashing lights and rest a hand on the bumper to hear the voice. I can’t wait to see the owner.

“…Like the fake muscles on

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