Talk:Scale model

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Ferrari 308s

Years Make Model Prod. E (cc) P (hp) T (Nm) Wb (㎜) L (㎜) W (㎜) H (㎜) Wgt (kg) kph 0–100 0–400 0–1000
1975–’76 Ferrari 308 GTB (vetroresina) 808 2926.9 255 — 2340 4230 1720 1120 1050 — — — —
1976–’85 Ferrari 308 GTB (Michelotto) ∼15 2926.9 — — 2340 4230 1720 1120 — — — — —
1977 Ferrari 308 GTB (Millechiodi) 1 2926.9 255 — 2340 4230 1720 1120 — 252 — — —
1977–’79 Ferrari 308 GTB 2897 2926.9 255 — 2340 4230 1720 1120 1090 252 — — —
1977–’79 Ferrari 308 GTS 3219 2926.9 255 — 2340 4230 1720 1120 1090 252 — — —
1980–’81 Ferrari 208 GTB 140 1990.64 155 170 2340 4230 1720 1120 1232 215 — — —
1980–’81 Ferrari 208 GTS 160 1990.64 155 170 2340 4230 1720 1120 1254 215 — — —
1980–’81 Ferrari 308 GTBi 494 2926.9 214 243 2340 4230 1720 1120 1286 240 — — —
1980–’81 Ferrari 308 GTSi 1743 2926.9 214 243 2340 4230 1720 1120 1297 240 — — —
1982–’85 Ferrari 208 GTB Turbo 437 1990.64 220 240 2340 4230 1720 1120 1232 242 — — —
1983–’85 Ferrari 208 GTS Turbo 250 1990.64 220 240 2340 4230 1720 1120 1243 242 — — —
1982–’85 Ferrari 308 GTB Quattrovalvole 748 2926.9 240 260 2340 4230 1720 1120 1275 255 — 14.5 26.2
1982–’85 Ferrari 308 GTS Quattrovalvole 3042 2926.9 240 260 2340 4230 1720 1120 1286 255 — 14.5 26.2
1984–’87 Ferrari 288 GTO 272 2855.08 400 496 2450 4290 1910 1120 1160 305 4.9 12.7 21.8
1986–’89 Ferrari 328 GTB 1344 3185.76 270 304 2350 4255 1730 1128 1263 263 6.4 14.3 25.7
1986–’89 Ferrari 328 GTS 6068 3185.76 270 304 2350 4255 1730 1128 1273 263 6.4 14.3 25.7
1986–’89 Ferrari [208] GTB Turbo 308 1990.64 254 328 2350 4255 1730 1128 1265 253 6.3 14.3 25.7
1986–’89 Ferrari [208] GTS Turbo 828 1990.64 254 328 2350 4255 1730 1128 1275 253 6.3 14.3 25.7

Yow Modellini

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K004 Alfa Romeo Schighera-GT Italdesign Giugiaro
K005 Alfa Romeo Scighera Italdesign Giugiaro
K006 Fiat 500 Zanzara Proto Zagato
K007 Citroen Osee Pininfarina
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K009 Ford Mustang Concept Italdesign Giugiaro
K010 Aston Martin 20/20 Italdesign Giugiaro
K011 Sauber Mercedes C292 Proto —
K012 Lamborghini Genesis Bertone
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K015 Nissan GTR Concept —
K016 Ferrari Rainbow Bertone
K017 Yamaha OX-99 —
K018 Honda Argento Vivo Pininfarina
K019 Lamborghini Sogna Art&Tech
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K021 Nissan GTR Proto —
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K023 Chevrolet Ramarro Bertone
K024 Ferrari GG50 Italdesign Giugiaro
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K041 Alfa Romeo B.A.T. 11 Bertone
K042 Maserati Boomerang Italdesign Giugiaro
K043 Chevrolet Moray-GT Italdesign Giugiaro
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K060 Abarth Fiat 500Z Zagato
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K062 Alfa Romeo 2uettottanta Pininfarina
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K083 Lamborghini Tiger Touring
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K085 Abarth Fiat 750 Coupe Bertone
K086 Abarth Fiat 1600GT Italdesign Giugiaro
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K088 Lamborghini Marcopolo Italdesign Giugiaro
K089 Porsche VW Tapiro Italdesign Giugiaro
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K092 Alfa Romeo Navajo Bertone
K093 Lamborghini Bravo Bertone
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K098 B.Engineering Edonis 2nd Proto —
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K101 Peugeot Griffe4 Pininfarina
K102 Lamborghini Silhouetto Proto Bertone
K103 Lamborghini Jalpa Spider Proto Bertone
K104 Lamborghini Jalpa Proto Bertone
K105 Lamborghini Urraco Proto #2 Bertone
K106 Lamborghini Countach L150 —
K107 Lamborghini Countach Bonneville —
K108 Lamborghini LM001 1st Proto —
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K110 Lamborghini Miura Sport Gr7 AMS
K111 Lancia Stratos Concept Fenomenon
K112 Lamborghini LM003 Zagato Zagato
K113 Lancia Stratos Competizione Alitalia Fenomenon
K114 Lancia New Stratos Alitalia Pininfarina
K115 SSC Tuatara (Ultimate Aero II Jason Castriota
K116 Ferrari PF Modulo Pininfarina
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K118 Lamborghini Pregunta Heuliez
K119 Lamborghini Diablo GT2 Proto —
K120 Lamborghini Diablo GTR Evoluzione LM Affolter
K121 Lamborghini P-132 2nd Proto Marcello Gandini
K122 Pininfarina Sintesi Pininfarina
K123 Fiat 500 Coupe Zagato
K124 Abarth Biposto 1500 Bertone
K125 Aston Martin Vanquish EG Shooting Brake Boniolo
K126 Lamborghini Parcour GT Italdesign Giugiaro
K127 Lancia Abarth SE037 Proto Pininfarina
K128 Lamborghini Miura Barquetta —
K129 Alfa Romeo Brezza Spider Concept —
K130 Lamborghini P400 Sonata Enzo Stuardi
K131 De Tomaso 2000 Pantera Concepy Marcello Gandini
K132 Maserati Chicane Concept IED
K133 Chevrolet Codatronca Monza Spada Design
K134 Maserati Quattroporte AGA KHAN 1971 Paris Frua
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K136 Alfa Romeo 1750 GT Berlinetta Italdesign Giugiaro
K137 Aston Martin V12 Vantage Pototipo Zagato
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K139 Alfa Romeo Giulietta TI Ministeriale Colli
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K143 Lamborghini Alar 777 2010 —
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K152 Citroen Coupe de Plage Bertone
K153 Fiat 127 Village Bertone
K154 Jaguar Pirana Bertone
K155 Ford Mustang Bertone
K156 Opel Slalom Bertone
K157 Fiat 128 Coupe Bertone
K158 Lancia Kayak Bertone
K159 Fiat Enduro Bertone
K160 Jaguar B99 Bertone
K161 Saab Novanta Bertone
K162 Lamborghini Giugiaro Lamborghini Italdesign Giugiaro
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K164 Lamborghini Urraco Prototipo #1 Bertone
K165 VW T1 Kastenwagen —
K166 VW Up! Azzurra Sailing Team Concept Italdesign Giugiaro
K167 Giugiaro Brivido Italdesign Giugiaro
K168 Aston Martin CC100 Speedster Concept —
K169 Alfa Romeo Disco Volante Concept Touring
K170 Cisitalia 202E Concept IED
K171 Lancia Flavia Super Sport 1967 Zagato
K172 De Tomaso Pampero Ghia
K173 Lancia Medusa Italdesign Giugiaro
K174 Lancia HIT Pininifarina
K175 Fiat Ecos Pininfarina
K176 Bentley T1 Coupe Speciale Pininfarina
K177 Ferrari P4/5 Mock-up Pininfarina
K178 VW Karmann Cheetah Italdesign Giugiaro
K179 Lancia Aurelia Florida Berline 2 Poste Pininfarina
K180 CNR E2 Pininfarina
K181 Fiat Dino Studio di Linea Pininfarina
K182 Fiat Dino Ginevra Berlinetta Pininfarina
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K184 Autobianchi A112 Zagato
K185 Ferrari Dino Berlinetta GT Proto Pininfarina
K186 Toyota Quaranta Taxi Italdesign Giugiaro
K187 BMW Z4 Coupe Zagato Zagato
K188 BMW Z4 Roadster Zagato Zagato
K189 Messerschmitt KR200 Super Rekordwagen —
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K191 Lamborghini Diablo Chrysler Proposal Gandini Marcello Gandini
K192 Ferrari Sergio Concept Pininfarina
K193 Lamborghini Parcour Concept Italdesign Giugiaro
K194 Lamborghini Parcour Roadster Italdesign Giugiaro
K195 Aston Martin Rapide Jet 2+2 Concept (Shooting Bbrake) Bertone
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K198 Aston Martin DBS Coupe Zagato Zagato
K199 BMW GranLusso Coupe Pininfarina
K200 Aston Martin DBS Spider Zagato Zagato
K201 Vector M12 AmericanFlag “Powered by Lamborghini” —
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K203 De Tomaso Vallelunga Spyder Fissore
K204 Aston Martin Virage Shooting Brake Zagato
K205 Aston Martin David Brouwn Speedback GT —
K206 Aston Martin DP100 Vision GT —
K207 Fiat Trepiuno Concept —
K208 Aston Martin Vulcan —
K209 Maserati Mostro Loud Zagato
K210 Alfa Romeo Disco Volante Spider Touring
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K214 O.S.C.A. Dromos 2500GT Touring
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K217 Rolls Royce Silver Cloud III —
K218 Mazda MX-500 —
K219 Alfa Romeo Carabo Bertone
K220 Alfa Romeo Zeta-6 Zagato
K221 Koenigsegg CC —
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K224 Bugatti EB218 Italdesign Giugiaro
K225 Toyota Lexus LF-A —
K226 Toyota Lexus LF-A Road Star —
K227 Pininfarina Nido Pininfarina
K228 Pininfarina Nido EV 80th Pininfarina
K229 Fiat Spunto Pininfarina
K230 Pininfarina Eta Beta Pininfarina
K231 Opel SFK Filo Bertone
K232 Bertone Blitz Bertone
K233 Mazda Neo Space Bertone
K234 Jaguar Ascot Bertone
K235 BMW Garmisch Bertone
K236 Volvo Tundra Bertone
K237 Citroen Camargue Bertone
K238 Audi Quartz Pininfarina
K239 Fiat Punto Racer Bertone
K240 Bertone Zeo Emissoin Record Bertone
K241 Fiat Punto Monomille Zagato
K242 Fiat 500Z Eco Zagato
K243 Bertone Slim Bertone
K244 Nissan Prince Escudo AZ-5 Zagato
K245 Chevrolet Corvair Testudo Bertone
K246 GM Chronos Pininfarina
K247 BMW Vadoh Italdesign Giugiaro
K248 Hyundai Pony Coupe Italdesign Giugiaro
K249 Lancia Ypsilon Sport Zagato
K250 Honda Acura Advanced Sports Car Concept —

Ferrari Reinvents Manifest Destiny

Archived Feature

P.J. O’Rourke and a Ferrari 308GTS
A blood-red 308GTS streaks west, warning the third world to get its crummy oxcarts out of the road.
June 1980 By P.J. O’ROURKE Photos By SCOTT HENRY

Image 1

We made it from Atlanta to Dallas in twelve and a half hours. But that was because we were just cruising, you know, taking in the scenery and enjoying the local color. Besides, we got stuck in bumper-to-bumper camper traffic all the way to Birmingham. Some big collegiate sports event was under way—the University of South Carolina versus Alabama’s Crimson Tide in a varsity dogfight, to judge by the fans. No, no, I won’t make fun of those good old boys in their Winnebagos driving since dawn with their good old families all the way from Columbia and Charleston and Beaufort just to root for the team of their choice. No, I won’t crack wise about the denizens of that fair corner of the free world, because I feel too good about Western Civilization. And the reason I feel too good about Western Civilization is that there I was a living, breathing part of it, in the best damn car I’ve ever driven, smack in the middle of the best damn country there’s ever been on earth. And, also, because cutting in and out of those giant travel homes at a hundred miles an hour is more fun than a Marseille shore leave, and hardly anybody riding in them threw beer cans at us either. Zoom, zoom, zip, zip, I couldn’t have been happier if I’d had a sack full of Iranian radicals to drag behind me.

And they love cars down there. Love ’em. The men look, and the women look too. And they smile with honest pleasure just to see something that dangerous-looking doing something that dangerous. But best of all the looks we got were the looks we got from the ten-year-old boys. They’d be back there with their little faces pressed against the glass in the RV back windows, and they’d see this red rocket sled coming up behind them in the $50 lane. It couldn’t help but touch your heart, how their eyes lit up and their mouths dropped down, as if Santa’d brought them an entire real railroad train. You could all but hear the pitter-patter of the sneakers on their feet as they ran up front and started jerking on their dads’ Banlon shirt collars, jumping up and down and yelling and pointing out the windshield, “Didja see it?! Didja see it, Dad?! Didja?! Didja?! Didja?! Didja?!”

We came by a 930 Turbo Porsche near the Talladega exit. He was going about 90 when we passed him, and he gave us a little bit of a run, passed us at about 110, and then we passed him again. He was as game as anybody we came across and was hanging right on our tail at 120. Ah, but then—then we just walked away from him. Five seconds and he was nothing but an overturned-boat-shaped dot in the mirrors. I suppose he could have kept up, but driving one of those ass-engined Nazi slot cars must be a task at around 225 percent of the speed limit. But not for us. I’ve got more vibration here on my electric typewriter than we had blasting into Birmingham that beautiful morning in that beautiful car on a beautiful tour across this wonderful country from the towers of Manhattan to the bluffs of Topanga Canyon so fast we filled the appointment logs of optometrists’ offices in 30 cities just from people getting their eyes checked for seeing streaks because they’d watched us go by.

Don’t get me wrong; we weren’t racing. This was strictly a pleasure drive. We had a leisurely lunch in Tuscaloosa, had long talks with every gas-station attendant we saw (and at about nine miles a gallon with a nineteen-gallon tank, we saw them all), and ran into some heavy rain in Louisiana, too—had to slow down to practically a hundred, as it was a two-lane road. And then in Shreveport we had a big steak dinner with lots of cocktails and coffee and dessert and Remy Martin. Why, really, we just strolled into Dallas on that third day of a week during which I had more fun than I have ever had doing anything that didn’t involve young women. And this kind of fun lasted longer. And I never fell asleep on top of it once.

Image 2

Actually, the trip didn’t start out all that well. The idea was … well, I’m not quite sure what the idea was. But Ferrari North America, which is based in Montvale, New Jersey, had a 308GTS that needed to be delivered to Los Angeles by January 2, to be featured in a movie. Ferrari called Car and Driver and asked if they’d like to assign someone to drive it across the country. Car and Driver was good enough to ask me, and of course I said yes. But I had misgivings. Like anyone who loves cars, I’d been fantasizing about Ferraris since before I knew how to say the name. Fur-rare-ies, I thought they were. But in my imagination they still all looked like Testa Rossas. In recent years they’d gotten a bit beyond me; I didn’t know what to make of these modern pasta-bender luxo-boxes with price tags in the early ionosphere. They have their engines in sideways and backwards, and you sit down on the floor where you can’t see your fenders, your feet, or the road. Or that’s the way they seemed to me when I sat in one at the auto show, which was the only time I ever had sat in one. And because they were so funny-looking, I assumed they were hard to drive. Besides, I’m opposed on principle to things with wheels that cost more than $20,000 and don’t have “Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe” written down the side. Why, there are people starving in Italy. Or going hungry, anyway. Well, maybe not hungry, but I’ll bet they don’t have enough closet space and the kids have to share a bedroom. And I had some other problems, too. I have a daytime job where I’m editor of the National Lampoon and I had fallen grievously behind in potty jokes, racial slurs, and comments that demean women. Deadlines loomed, the art department was in a pet, and down at the printing plant they were snarling in their cages. I had no business taking off just then to go do something silly in a rolling red expense account. So I wasn’t as enthusiastic about this project as I might have been, especially when I had to go tell my boss, the president of the National Lampoon’s parent corporation, that I had chosen this extremely inconvenient week to go on a cross-country screw-around for the benefit of another magazine. Now this boss of mine, Julian Weber, is a cold, taciturn, hard-eyed Harvard Law School graduate, about 50 years old, always dressed in a suit, and a very square sort of fellow. And as . was standing in front of his desk, backing and filling and making up lies, he began to frown with great concentration. What I was saying was, “I know it doesn’t seem like I’ve been here very much lately but I’ve … uh … been working at home a lot,” but what I was thinking was where I could get the boxes I would need when I cleaned out my desk.

Then he blurted it out: “Can I go too?”

The next thing I knew, I was sitting in the parking lot at Ferrari, sitting way down on the floor of this $45,000 atomic doorstop, completely puzzled by the controls; and sitting rather stiffly in the bucket seat next to me was my goddamned boss. At least he had a pair of of blue jeans on, but his blue jeans had been pressed, with a perfect crease across each knee. I don’t know if they sell blue jeans at Brooks Brothers, but if they do that’s where he’d bought these. I couldn’t figure out what it was going to be like, cooped up for a week in a car with somebody and unable to discuss drugs or teen-aged girls. I also couldn’t figure out how to work the car. Everyone at Ferrari was on Christmas vacation; the keys had been left with the receptionist. There wasn’t even anyone there to look properly worried, let alone to show me how to start the thing. And the Ferrari manual was translated from Italian to English by someone who spoke only Chinese. “Well,” said Mr. Weber, “I’m ready to go now.”

I remembered that Bill Baker, Ferrari’s director of public relations, had told me, “Be sure not to —— or you’ll foul the plugs.” But what it was that I wasn’t supposed to ——, I had no idea. So, finally, I just started it up and very tentatively, very nervously drove it out onto the Garden State Parkway, where the plugs immediately fouled. We coasted onto the berm. I got the car started again and out into traffic and it loaded up and stalled. I got it started another time and it began to misfire and choke, and I had to stick it in third and run it up over five grand just to keep the engine moving.

“I thought you knew how to drive one of these,” said my boss. And I had to keep it in third all the way to Trenton before the plugs cleared. A solid wall of dirty traffic was pressing in from every side while I sat perspiring, not a fender in sight, waiting for some jackass in a Peterbilt to make a belly tank out of us. I got off the turnpike at Wilmington and headed down the Delmarva Peninsula. The car seemed to be running all right, but now Julian wanted to drive. I was afraid that, if he didn’t keep the revs up, we’d stall again, and I couldn’t explain to him how to drive the car because I hadn’t the slightest idea myself, and, besides, I just didn’t feel like riding along at 55 with this lawyer type at the wheel telling me how foreign cars of this kind seemed “quite unusual in their method of operation” or some such. I mean, Julian’s a New Yorker, and New Yorkers think all cars are yellow and have lights on the roof. So I held him off down past Dover, but he was beginning to insist, and he’s my boss, and what could I do?

Image 3

We had just turned off onto Route 1 along Delaware Bay when I put him behind the wheel. Route 1 is a brand-new road, four lanes wide and butter-smooth, built to carry hordes of picnic-prone Wilmingtonians down to the ocean shore. But in December there’s nothing and nobody in sight. Julian settled into the driver’s seat and gave the Millennium Falcon-like controls a momentary glance. Then he stamped on the accelerator with an expensive loafer and redlined the 308 up through the gears to a hundred miles an hour through the potato fields and abandoned burger stands without time to even take his hand off the shift lever until he hit fifth, and when he did have time to take his hand off he used that hand to plop a Blondie cassette into the Blaupunkt and a quarter-ton of decibels came on with “Die Young Stay Pretty,” and the scenery exploded in the distance, bush and tree debris flying at us while my eyeballs pressed all the way back into the medulla, and that quadruple-throated three-quart V-8 wound up beyond the vocal range of Maria Callas, Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, leaving, I’m sure, a trail of shattered stemware in the more prosperous of the farmhouses we passed along our way.

And so it was Julian, my sobersided superior in the corporate hierarchy, who turned out to be the real leadfoot. He spent his half of the driving time doing a very credible imitation of Wolfgang von Trips, while I spent that half of the driving time nervously looking for cops. He turned out to be a pretty good guy, too, for a lawyer. (Although, to protect his marriage and business career, his views on drugs and teen-aged girls will go unrecorded.) Anyway, it was that moment out on Delaware Route 1 that changed the entire complexion of the trip.

I guess what we were supposed to be doing with the car was to see if it could perform the function for which it was built. That function is high-speed touring, and the answer is YES, carved in those monumental granite letters that once were used for the title frames in movies like El Cid. The Ferrari isn’t much to bop around town in. It’s necessarily stiff and uncompromising at low speeds. And you’d sooner dock a sailboat in a basement utility sink than try to parallel-park it. But turn the son of a bitch loose on the open road and it’s as though you’ve died and gone to hot-rod heaven. True, the 308 wasn’t designed, really, for American touring, where the speed limit is 55 and distances are measured in thousands of miles instead of hundreds of kilometers. There’s nary a gear in the box where the Ferrari will do 55 with pleasure, and the luggage space wouldn’t make a good ice bucket. But the answer to those complaints is, Who gives a good goddamn? You drive this car for an hour, a hundred miles down the coast between the dunes, with the cattails waving in the tidal marshes and the winter surf crashing on the sea walls, through a blur of empty resort towns with the afternoon sun down low and Edward Hopper-bright across the landscape—you do that for an hour and you’ll kill for this car. You’ll murder people in their beds just to get back behind the wheel. And we slipped down the eastern shore of Maryland, on into that tag end of Virginia below Assateague Island, and out onto the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel, nearly as awesome a piece of engineering as what we drove and a scene of heart-aching beauty in the moonlight, down eighteen miles of low trestle causeways, flying above the water; then down into the sea like a depth charge and up onto the high, level bridges like an epiphany in a New Yorker story we went. And out through Norfolk and into the narrow, twisting roads along the North Carolina border, we were just wreathed in shit-eating grins all the way to Raleigh, where there’s a young lady named Karen I’m particularly fond of.

Now, joy that it was, the car still wasn’t running exactly right, especially when Julian was driving, which satisfied my prideful youth. Whenever we had to drive slowly, there was some misfiring and the little pair of catalytic-converter overheat lights would light, showing a plug or three to be fouled. There was a Ferrari dealership in Greensboro, so, the next morning, I put Karen into the Ferrari and talked Julian into following us in Karen’s old Pinto station wagon. I can’t help wondering about Julian. Had I been misreading the man for a number of years or was he completely transformed after one experience behind the wheel of a 308GTS? Because as soon as I got into the cockpit with this young lady, I naturally began showing off, playing Patti Smith and the Clash on the cassette deck and doing 80 and 90 in the Raleigh suburbs, forgetting that I had the map and the directions and Julian would perforce have to follow me. And once I got past Durham and out onto I-85, I put some real will into my do-fast foot. That Pinto had over 100,000 miles on it and a lot of girl-style maintenance, and I don’t think anyone had ever gone over 60 in it. But when I got out of the Ferrari at Foreign Cars Italia in Greensboro, there was Julian pulling right in behind me, the Pinto’s valve clatter and piston ring blowby only a little worse than before. I don’t know how he did it.

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NA 99005 39,90 € Taxi Luxor Cab - fliegend
Taxi Luxor Cab - flying

Die Citroen DS-Fahrzeuge sind aufgrund ihres futuristischen Aussehens gerne gewählte Requisiten für zahlreiche Filme und Fernsehserien. Unser Modell zeigt das Citroen DS Luxor Cab aus dem zweiten Teil einer bekannten Filmtriologie aus dem Jahre 1989. Die Modellausführung ist ein hochdetailiertes Resin-Handarbeitsmodell mit abnehmbaren Dach. Im Innern ist die Inneneinrichtung exakt dem Filmauto nachgebildet. Es enthält GPS-System, unsymmetrische Sitzbedruckung und kann mit einem Fahrer, nur echt mit Papagei, nachgerüstet werden.

The Citroen DS vehicles are often chosen props for numerous films and TV series due to their futuristic appearance. Our model shows the Citroen DS Luxor Cab from the second part of a well-known film triology from the year 1989. The model execution is a highly detailed Resin handicraft model with removable roof. Inside, the interior is exactly the same as the movie car. It includes GPS system, asymmetric seat printing and can be retrofitted with a driver, just real with parrot.

Heute befindet sich das Original-Filmfahrzeug im Besitz eines französischen Sammlers. Aufgrund der großen Nachfrage haben wir das Modell wieder in das Sortiment genommen und das Modell kann ab sofort wieder vorbestellt werden.

Today, the original movie vehicle is owned by a French collector. Due to the high demand, we have taken the model back into the range and the model can be pre-ordered now.

Weltraum-Taxi Luxor Space

(Space Taxi Luxor Space)
NA 99093 € Weltraum-Taxi Luxor Space, frisch gewaschen
Space Taxi Luxor Space, freshly washed
NA 99124 € Weltraum-Taxi Luxor Space gealtert
Space Taxi Luxor Space aged

Beide Weltraum-Taxen sind High-Standard Resin handmade Ausführung und mit hochdetailierter Inneneinrichtung versehen. Die Modelle können mit passenden Figuren bestückt werden. Getönte Scheiben runden das perfekte Finish ab.

Both space taxis are high-standard resin handmade and equipped with highly detailed interior. The models can be equipped with matching figures. Tinted windows complete the perfect finish.

Sollten Sie mit Ihrem Raumschiff auf einer Mission in den Tiefen des Alls unterwegs sein und Sie von der Zentralregierung der Erde aufgefordert werden, zur Rettung selbiger sofort zurückzukehren, kann es passieren, dass von einem solchen Taxi abgeholt werden. Genießen Sie den Trip und lassen Sie die Finger von dem Fahrer.

If you are on a mission in the depths of space with your spaceship and you are asked by the central government of the Earth to return to rescue them immediately, you may be picked up by such a taxi. Enjoy the trip and keep your hands off the driver.

Peterbilt 281 Confidential

Im Jahre 1939 wurde die Firma Peterbilt in Oakland gegründet. Die Firma hat sich in den USA stetig positiv entwickelt und gilt seit ihrer Gründung als führender Hersteller qualitativ hochwertiger LKW. Immer waren Neuerungen mitbegründet durch Peterbilt, so z.B. um 90° klappbare Führerhäuser, Aluminium-Niet-Bauweise und Schlafkabinen. Eine Vielzahl von Typen runden die Produktpalette ab.

In 1939 the company Peterbilt was founded in Oakland. The company has continued to develop positively in the US and has been a leading manufacturer of high quality trucks since its inception. Innovations were always co-founded by Peterbilt. 90° folding cabs, aluminum rivet construction and sleeping cabins. A variety of types complete the product range.

Zum Filmstar wurde der Peterbilt 281 Confidential mit Tankauflieger aus dem Jahre 1956 in einem Frühwerk eines bekannten Filmproduzenten und Regiesseurs aus dem Jahre 1973. Weitere Peterbilt-Lastkraftwagen schafften den Sprung auf die Leinwand im Jahre 2001, 2007 und 2011. Unser Modell kann nur bei entsprechend wirtschaftlichen Vorbestellungen realisiert werden.

The film star became the Peterbilt 281 Confidential with tank trailer from the year 1956 in an early work of a well-known film producer and director from the year 1973. More Peterbilt trucks managed the jump to the screen in 2001, 2007 and 2011. Our model can only if economic pre-orders are realized.
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