Time Essay: There's No Madness Like Nomadness

They are named Phantom Flasher, Lazarus, The Red Onion, Chiquita Vanana, Vandal and such. They ride high and graceless, as always, but now their boxy bodies cry out for attention with garish designs and obstreperous Pap art: frontier scenes, Hawaii schlock, seascapes, erotic mush. Even one—the specimen, say, that flashes nude girls in and out of view with Op-artful magic—can pop the eyeballs. When large numbers heave into sight, zooming along the road in a spaced-out phantasmagoria of a caravan, they can set the innocent motorist to gaping and muttering, "What is going...

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