-We’re slicing through the heavens at Mach 2, steeped to the gills in Dom Perignon and beluga caviar, when the irony of it all slaps me sober. We survived the week of overindulgence, but all sight of our mission—tracking jet-setter John Z. De Lorean as he launches his dream in Northern Ireland—was lost somewhere between the London Ritz and Annabel’s Discotheque. A cortege of distinguished American motorjournalists has been diddled again; every one of us is rushing back to the typewriter with more questions than answers. READ MORE ››
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