Mike Beversluis

Thursday, August 20, 2009


I don't just sit around and think about sports cars all of the time. Sometimes it's houses. In a giant tree with rope bridges and a moat down below, Swiss family Robinson style. Or some 35th floor bachelor pad, carved out of granite with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Central Park. But unless you live in some such Blofield lair, they're not really "cool" (or hot, if you're in volcano) as "nice." Or maybe "sweet." So here you go.



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