Top Gear Middle Eastern Special Access

"Traction," May explained, laying the carpet under the wheels. "It’s the same principle as the Egyptians using logs to build the pyramids. Except we are idiots, and the pyramids are a 1996 Fiat Barchetta."

The Top Gear Middle Eastern Special is not a car review. It is a testament to the absurdity of friendship. You don't do this trip to prove a car is good. You do it to prove that, no matter how hot it gets, no matter how many times the BMW breaks down, there is nothing better than driving into the unknown with your two best idiots. top gear middle eastern special

The cars rebelled. Plastic trim melted. Glue seeped out of the windscreens. Hammond’s Golf began to smell like a burning toaster. The production crew, following in air-conditioned Land Cruisers, wore hazmat suits just to hand the boys water. The Rub' al Khali is a beautiful liar. It looks solid. It is not. "Traction," May explained, laying the carpet under the

Jeremy Clarkson, predictably, bought a BMW 325i Convertible. "It's a six-cylinder masterpiece of German efficiency," he boomed, as the electric roof failed within thirty seconds of leaving Dubai. It is a testament to the absurdity of friendship

Clarkson’s BMW leather seats turned into a frying pan. Hammond discovered that the VW’s air conditioning was a hairdryer pointing at his face. May, in the Fiat, simply removed his shirt, revealing a torso so pale it reflected the sun back into space.

"One cannot describe this heat," Clarkson narrated, wiping his brow with a sock. "This is the heat you feel when you open an oven to check on a pizza, except the pizza is you, and the oven is the entire planet."