Listen, we don’t want any trouble.
St. Paddy’s Day is a time for all of us — black and white, Irish and American, Catholic and Protestant and all those other religions — to come together and figure out how much green food coloring can be consumed before it has a laxative effect.
But, as we think of the Emerald Isle today, our minds can’t help but be reminded of a famous and totally ballin’ export from the troubled north — the DeLorean DMC-12.
John DeLorean’s fever dream of the ’80s was briefly realized in a factory in a suburb of Belfast, Northern Ireland, after the British government lobbed a mountain of cash in his direction in 1978. Ireland turned down the chance to host production for the DeLorean Motor Company, apparently not sure of their luck.
(Corporate welfare is still a thrilling pastime for governments on both sides of the pond, but in the 1970s Britain would have nationalized a lemonade stand. Actually, it sort of did.)
We can remember the DMC-12 for a lot of things — cost overruns, slow production, a tepid Peugeot-Renault-Volvo V6, bankruptcy, its founder’s coke arrest — but instead of that, let’s remember the dream of stainless, gull-winged motoring.
As we raise a glass to both Ireland and the DeLorean, don’t forget that if you can scrounge together enough dough, the dream of the ’80s can stay alive in your driveway.