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The cars of notorious dictators

It's good to be the king, at least until your people have had enough of you. Last week, we brought you famous presidential cars. This week, we're going to the opposite end of the political spectrum, looking at what history's mad men drove throughout their repressive and violent regimes. These dictators were absolutely powerful, and absolutely corrupt. More nightmares for their people than rulers, their iron-fisted control gave them the ability to satisfy any wild desire with nearly limitless funds. While they all splurged on luxury goods, cars were a particular passion of many dictators. Cars make a powerful statement to the public about wealth, status and control. It's how you are presented at ground level to your adoring masses or mortal enemies. A custom luxury car with plenty of armor plating reinforced the specialness and "otherness" of the ruler to friend and foe alike. Muammar Gaddafi, Libya, 1969 - 2011 Lybia's President for Life Muammar Gaddafi fancied himself not just a car enthusiast, but a car designer for the masses as well. He supposedly designed a car called the "Saroukh el-Jamahiriya" or Libyan Rocket. It had a 230-horsepower V6 and the nose and tail of a rocket. He was trying to produce a safer car. What makes it safe car? Tough to say. Not a lot was ever released it. Apparently the el-Jamahiriya did come with airbags and collapsible fenders in case of a collision. A spokesperson said "The invention of the safest car in the world is proof that the Libyan revolution is built on the happiness of man." We'll just have to take his word for it. When he wasn't designing his own cars, Gaddafi was ordering up custom rides, large and small. Besides a heavily armored BMW 7 Series and a Mercedes S-Class stretch limo, Gaddafi had this custom Fiat built at a cost of $260,000. The gold in the trim is real gold (of course) and comes with some touches that are pure Gaddafi. For instance, the Fiat badge was replaced with an outline of the continent of Africa, with Libya cut out in green. Rebels seized the Fiat and Gaddafi's other trappings of power after putting an end to Gaddafi's 42 years in control. Jean-Claude "Baby Doc" Duvalier, Haiti, 1971 - 1986 Jean-Claude "Baby Doc" Duvalier was the second-generation dictator of Hati from 1971 to 1986. He made life hell for his people for 15 long years, starting when his father died when he was just 19 years old. Imagine if Justin Beiber was given a tiny island nation to run.

Rolls-Royce Phantom celebrates decade of decadence

Ten years ago, Rolls-Royce opened its Goodwood manufacturing facility and handed over the keys to the very first Phantom. Back then, parent company BMW was cranking out Phantom sedans at the blistering pace of one unit per day. By the end of 2003, that number had tripled, and today, the Goodwood plant builds a total of 20 Phantoms in sedan, coupe, drophead and extended-wheelbase models during a single day's working hours. Originally, there were fewer than 400 workers on staff responsible for hand-building the big cruisers, but now the plant boasts over 1,400 craftsmen, with 100 of those positions added in 2012 alone.
Rolls-Royce boasts one of the lowest staff turnover rates of any brand in the industry, thanks in part to a successful apprenticeship and internship program, and the company notes 80 percent of its workers live within 15 miles of the facility. You can read the full press release on the 10th anniversary of both the Phantom and the Goodwood plant below.

Navigating the road time forgot in a Rolls-Royce Cullinan

The Rolls-Royce Cullinan glides evenly over the rutted single-lane dirt road, barely unsettling its passengers. Nobody is speaking in the lush cabin, not even my normally chatty 7-year-old.  All eyes are turned to the Delaware River gliding by, a dozen feet away, through a skim of skeletal hardwood trees. There’s no sign of humanity or habitation. ItÂ’s almost a scene in a movie. The Last of the Mohicans, perhaps.  Today we are exploring the Old Mine Road, and it is making us think of ghosts. Its 104 miles of asphalt and dirt make up one of the oldest continuously-used roads in America, stretching from New YorkÂ’s Catskills to the Pennsylvania Delaware Water Gap. The Lenape are thought to have first threaded a path here in the 1300s.  It is also a pathway wending its way through the NortheastÂ’s violent history, from bloody skirmishes between the original Native American inhabitants and European settlers to the Americans and Brits in the Revolutionary War. Little wonder that out here in the quiet, that history — and those ghosts — feel close. Amazingly, the 40-mile section in New Jersey that follows the eastern banks of the Delaware looks much like it did a hundred years ago. There are million-dollar views, but as part of the Delaware recreation area, no development is allowed.  Instead of the gated McMansions youÂ’d expect less than 1.5 hours from New York City, we are greeted by silent forest and twin lanes of bumpy or shattered asphalt. ThereÂ’s a section of dirt and gravel, narrowing to a single lane. Easy to imagine hundreds of years of horses and mules stamping down the thin path.  It is early spring and like everyone else, we have cabin fever. My wife, son and mother-in-law are sheltering-in-place at our country house in the Poconos. America is locked into a struggle with an invisible enemy. It seems a good time to get some historical perspective. If our ancestors lived and endured under harsh conditions, so can we.  There is nothing inherently unsafe or socially unacceptable about taking a short road trip on a virtually unused road, so we pack a lunch of cold pizza and snacks, and pile into the leather-bound, environmentally-controlled cocoon of the Rolls. We make our way to Kingston, N.Y., where the road begins. IÂ’m finally going to drive the entirety of the Old Mine Road.   Our Barney-purple Cullinan is a rolling sanctuary, a movable fortress of social isolation.