Well RF, as the French so very nearly say, chacun a son goober. (And if you'd clocked the types who fawn over these fancypantsmobiles at the annual Pebble Beach Concours de Nitwit you'd know I'm right about the, er, "attire".)
However much money your loaferless publisher sinks into TRJ, it doesn't alter the fact that IMHO it's a poncey magazine that's totally up its own [censored]. The pansified feature cars are mostly apologies for a real rod. Cover car of the issue in question--typically overdone, hardly a single truly original idea in evidence, no stamp of individuality, money mno object, all in all a total cliche--proves my point. Truly the vehicular equivalent of the dreaded tassled loafer.
TRJ is just a showcase for elitist show-offs whose vehicles show off the sad fact that money is no substitute for imagination. So what do they care? The object of showing their horribly tarted-up old cars on glossy paper is to give them a sort of instant provenance and bump up their market value among like-minded nitwits--and it works.
I wouldn't mind if they qualified the title, e.g. The Ersatz Rodder's Journal. Or Rods, Schmods. Or The Tarty Old Car Journal. Because it's largely just glossy tosh that doesn't begin to represent the real rodder.
Real rodders know, for instance that real rods don't shine.
Now of course a bunch of real rodders who know way more than I ever could will post that I'm talking out of my fundament and that TRJ is the bible of all real rodders everywhere.
Ain't the Bolt just the best! :p
Christian
