I get the feeling that somebody in Crewe, England is going to puke if they ever catch wind of what I’m showing you right now. You see, Rolls-Royce isn’t just a car, or a brand. A Roller is a lifestyle choice. It’s accepting that you are far and above the common, the vulgar, the rude and crude plebeians. You value yourself more, so everything around you must be valuable, too. The house, the lawn, the clothes, the cuisine, all of it must be top-tier or you aren’t worthy. If you have one, you’ll understand. If not…well, keep working hard, and someday you might be able to walk into the dealership for a look. 
Right…take that Robin Leach crap and walk it straight to the dumpster. Old Rolls-Royce machines…the beautiful coach-built units…that’s proper blue-blood machinery. A 1981 Silver Spur is, on it’s best day, a footnote and on it’s worst day, a pretty paperweight. Seeing one plopped onto the shortened chassis and running gear of a 1993 Chevrolet Suburban, wearing tacked-on plastic “hoodscoops” and sporting a big winch up front is just too much. Get this thing to a paint booth and shoot it either bright white or limo black, find any other wheels and tires for this thing, and go to the nearest ORV park for some memories.
