The 1971 Chevelle SS.
This car is bursting with testosterone, grease, and beer. I'm not saying women won't like it because all women want guys in muscle cars, I'm just saying it won't like women. It wasn't made for women. This man-made beast of a machine was built for one purpose, burning rubber. Check out the racing tires, look at the hood(and picture what's underneath), and just imagine yourself churning down the road as other cars remain flecks in your rear view. Picture yourself rolling down the road in this horsepower strapped piece of retro-badassery and then ask yourself, do I really want that Toyota anymore? Is it really that important that I get that hybrid for the environment, I'm just one man what can I possibly do to help save the o-zone? The answer is nothing, decide to place the o-zone into the hands of much lesser men than yourself and sit down on the cigarette burnt leather seats, grab your 8-track collection(you know you still have one), and prepare to propel your life into the well-used future.
I have quoted Bryan in class a couple of times. I think you should see an excellent example of copy writing. The task was to sell a car. Come on... don't you want this now?