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BMW 507
Many cars get given nicknames and garner reputations, others demand respect and admiration. Some just give back every ounce of the cherished love bestowed upon them by adoring owners. Those hours, weeks and years of spit and polish rewarded only by being covered in a dust sheet and hidden in an anonymous lockup to keep envious eyes from seeing them. Here I am not talking about your average common or garden hot hatch or SUV I am talking about a flaming, thumping, brutal, sexually aggressive Germanic Baroque Angel. She may have the lines and grace of Claudia Schiffer and the inherent sexual tension of Heidi Klum, but the BMW 507 has all that raw grunt wrapped up neatly looking for all the world like an athlete limbering up for a shot at marathon gold. I remember well the first time I rode in a 507. It was on a trip to California, the sun was cracking the pavements and shade was nowhere to be found, but a business associate of mine had just taken possession of one of the rarest sports cars in the world. I sat in the passenger seat and became enveloped in the soft luxurious leather, feeling like a much loved arm chair. The car had been in the sun with the top down and the seat was hot to the bum, but who cared, I was in a 507! No antique arm chair kicked out of the parking bay with such a raucous cacophony of blood thirsty noise. We thundered down the highway sounding like a horde of Viking Raiders looking to pillage and rape Los Angeles in a shark nosed beast. We cruised the LA streets in his bright red, flawless paintwork BMW507 looking, in my mind at least, like pimps or drug dealers. My business associate worked in Silicon Valley make up your own minds!

The curves give the Beamer its fantastically outstanding beauty; it's as if a little bit of stardust was sprinkled on the designers: the result a flash of brilliance able to suck air out of the lungs of petrol heads around the globe. These lines like a gentle wave lapping a soft sandy beach, a ripple more than a wave, but such sexual desire cannot be unchallenged. The car draws you close in admiration. The BMW507 is the automotive equivalent of a black hole it sucks you in and won't ever let you go. That I believe was the aim of the car that started life in the austere days after the devastation of World War Two.

The man who made the dream almost flesh and blood was Albrecht Goertz, he was born in the Lower Saxony town of Brunkensen on January 12th 1914, the second of three children. Upon his

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