There's a lot of ways to make cars. You can stick the engine in the front, middle, or rear, you can drive two or four wheels, front or rear, and all these with all sorts of combinations. Lately, you can shove batteries and motors somewhere, too.
Tagged With torchlopnik
I should be clear here that I'm not an official expert in words; I'm no entomologist. You can tell that's true because I just typed the word for someone who studies insects, not "etymologist," someone who studies words. But this hasn't stopped me from formulating a theory that there's a large number of people who learned the word "ajar" from a talking car.
We often refer to cars as boxes on wheels, or we describe car design in terms of numbers of boxes: one for van-like things, two for hatch/wagon-like things, and three boxes for sedan-like things. With this common way of thinking, you may expect that a car that was a literal, no-joke box-on-wheels would be something that wouldn't seem so weird, or alarming. You'd be wrong. If you don't believe me, have a look at that Bubu 502 up there.
The more I think about autonomous cars, the more questions I have. And sometimes these questions can get pretty surreal. For example, the latest question I had sounds, on the surface, like a paradox: how should an autonomous car let us get around without completely limiting our freedom to wander and find new places?
Last week I was in Barcelona thanks to Volvo, who wanted me to devalue some of their first production XC60s by driving them. I was happy to oblige, and even happier to scrutinize, in conversation-killing detail, the cars of Barcelona's lovely streets. The big surprise? I saw a lot of cool vans. Come on, join me on this magical tour of whatever happened to be nearby me!