i write about wine | part ii

I always knew I'd die at sea.

I've tried to explain the absurdity of human beings purposely swimming in the ocean to dozens of people, dozens of times. I've marveled at the complexity of the various machines required to simply keep us alive as we swim along in a few feet of water. I've pointed out varieties, ravenous multi-toothed beasties more than happy to devour us but by bit - if not whole!


Go on, click it. I'll wait.

Did you throw up a little? I sure did ... but what's the point of all this water talk? Do I just have water on the brain, or is it something more?

I'm getting to that.

First, however, I'd like to remind you all about the last time I got overly philosophical about Lancias. In that post, I pointed out a few aspects of my own tumultuous love affair with the brand, not the least of which being my noble struggles against advancing rust, faulty wiring, and Italian "quality", eventually making the point that Lancias, like revenge, are a dish best served with a nice Martini. Maybe on a ciabatta.

None of that makes any sense, though. I am, you see, quite aware of that - but there's not much I can do about it. My brain has just been assaulted. My retinas seared. My hopes and dreams for the future violated beyond measure.

Read these words carefully: eleven-hundred horsepower Lancia speedboat.

Oh, yes. Do want.

Built for Lancia by Christian Grande & Partners, the lightweight aluminum/inflatable hybrid powerboat is about 45 ft long. Despite weighing in at over 8 tons, the Lancia di Lancia's pair of inboard 6.7 L, turbocharged Fiat diesel engines can propel (ha!) the boat to a top speed approaching 50 knots.


Seriously, all that sexy, sexy goodness shouldn't be allowed to exist in one place, you know? It's like a Victoria's Secret photoshoot, Seat's epic, Cash-fueled bouncy-girl commercial, and that girl what dressed up like Samus Aran all rolled into one.

It is all of that and more. The Lancia di Lancia is but the slightest tickle shy of complete sensory overload ... and it's still only a drawing.

Which brings me back (?) to my main point: that Lancias are nothing but trouble. Perfect, yes. Of course, perfect. Soft, sudden, and perfect - but only when they want to be ... and they NEVER want to be.


Lancias fool you. They lull you into a place of mechanical bliss that most people never knew could exist. Like Ferraris or Bizzarinis, or the hottest Italian women, the great ones are spiteful, mean, and love to hurt you. Your only prayer is to move on to something sensible, like a Porsche, a Benz, or a nice midwestern girl - but once they catch wind of the plan it all changes. The Lancia revs happily to 7000 rpm. The Ferrari's Weber carbs find a magical harmony. The Bizzarini's unobtanium body panels suddenly pop back into shape. The girl takes her top off. All the same. All a diversion.

The Italians export a great many addictive things, but none more so than the cars and the women. Once they have you good and fooled - BAM! The Lancia dies on the side of the road.

This will happen with the boat, to be sure. A Fiat-Lancia is a Fiat-Lancia, ocean-going or no, and it WILL break down when you depend on it most. On the way to the ER with your pregnant wife. In the middle of the ocean, with you and your hot Italian girlfriend surrounded by chomp-chomp-chompity horrors that would chase Ahab back to land.

In short ...

... thanks for humoring me.

CLICK HERE to read Lancia's full press release, on Italiaspeed.

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