Some say that big cars are compensating for something, but the fact those wimps won’t even say “penis” shows how tough they are.  Here we see five truly kickass cars which are only “compensating” for the fact most vehicles aren’t in G.I. Joe, and make the average Hummer look like a ballet lesson.

The first Suburban to justify all that space isn’t screwing around, converting a people-carrier into the exact opposite: the People-Stopper.  And you’d get capitalized too if your roof swung back to unleash a Goddamn Gatling Gun.  For those unfamiliar with kickassology, a Gatling Gun doesn’t shoot people.  It evaporates them with bullets.

The M134D Dillon Aero Steel Gatling Gun is more commonly fitted to warships…

… and they just put one in a car.  Because it’s protecting the President, and anyone who tries anything will be turned go from terrorist to terrormist at 50 rounds a second.  If this thing kicked any more ass, IT’D be President.

The South Africans are serious about car security, and that’s “Serious” with a capital “Third Degree Burns.”

You may be shocked to learn that strapping flammable tanks to your car comes with a few downsides: this device would only make sense in a world where armed carjackers will murder you but then obey every single traffic law.  The ability to summon the surface of the sun outside your door for a few seconds might be both cool and the-exact-opposite-of-that-word, but the first time someone shunts you will trigger a free lesson in “Installing tanks of flammability under your own ass is a bad idea.”

But it’s still be worth it to get rid of stop-light-stalking window washers.

Just in case you thought asskicking was a recent invention:

That’s the Vickers gun, which served in World Wars 1 AND 2 – the wars which discovered and tested the machine gun to a frankly lunatic degree.  The pic above might look a little rough on the driver – an unshielded meat-steerer while the gunner stays protected – but that’s because of a few mechanical limitations.  Limitations like the Vickers gun being too powerful for the bike to brace: it could be fired from the side-car in an emergency (World War I was when “machine gun fire” finally replaced “hungry bear” as number one sound which makes men shit their pants) but the above was mainly meant to carry the heavy gun from place to place.

Once deployed, the Vickers gun simply did.  not.  stop.  At the High Wood action in 1916, ten guns fired continuously for twelve hours, firing over a million rounds without a single breakdown.  Meaning the gun’s probably the most reliable part of that vehicle.

Possibly the most ‘Merican machine ever constructed –  a shotgun-equipped SUV.  While every reason the second amendment’s a problem south of the Mason-Dixon line has a shotgun rack, none of those racks could aim and fire twinned-shotguns.  Until Now.

That couldn’t be more shitkicking if your wife and sister were sitting in the same seat, and that seat was your lap.  It also misses the point that if you need simultaneous shotguns to take something down, you’re either fighting the Terminator or permanently one bottle of Jack from trying to overthrow the gub’mint.  Luckily this truly terrifying instrument of destruction (from More Industries, whose website denies all knowledge or content apart from the fact the firm exists) doubles as an absolutely foolproof emergency “ARREST ME NOW” beacon.  If you see anyone driving anywhere, it’s because the sheriff is either their uncle and grandfather and/or already dead.

Motorbikes have always been at the absolute bottom of the road food-chain – the police at least get upset when you mow down cyclists or pedestrians, but simply getting on a motorbike automatically fills out the “Cause of Death” field on a coroner’s report.  The only sensible objection I’ve ever heard to the term “donorcycle” is from an EMT, who says it’s misleading: wrapping your legs around an engine block and then making a single mistake apparently doesn’t leave any organs in usable condition.

Which is why this man decided to have some fun.

One man, clearly born two decades too late to star in an 80s cartoon, builds himself a bike-mounted rocket launcher.  To call the projectiles “unguided” would understate the truly terrifyingly random nature of their fire, and the sheer kickassitude of the owner: he doesn’t care where they go, he just wants to have a bike-mounted rocket launcher and he made it happen.  This makes him ten times cooler than any other man, and a hundred times cooler than assholes who think an exhaust you can hear from five blocks away makes their motorbike cool