What It’s Like To Ride An IRL Batmobile

Photo by PHIVES Photography

Taking the Polaris Slingshot out with EagleRider

I love thrills. Jumping out of a plane, hopping on a flight with a moment’s notice, or swimming with sharks? Bring it. Life is best savored during the moments when my heart is thumping against my chest so hard, it's like it’s trying to escape my body. I sometimes feel like I've done it all, but when I was presented with the opportunity to shoot across the Southwest in a performance roadster, I realized that in all my years as an experience junkie, the one thing that’s evaded me is rubber and the road.

To say I’m not a car enthusiast is putting it mildly. I live in Chicago, a city of yawning potholes, of digging front wheels out of snow banks, of crawling traffic. I purchased my current ride by finding a model that met a checklist of “will it survive” criteria. Years ago, I was on the back of a motorcycle which had the ability to top out at about 45 miles per hour, and so my resulting feeling was “neat.” Motors in my world are a necessity, not adrenaline fuel. Yet, here I was, in EagleRider’s Los Angeles headquarters, outfitted with a helmet and protective jacket, ready to ride three days across the Golden State and into Arizona and then Las Vegas, all in a Polaris Slingshot SL.

“It’s a rite of passage to ride across America on two wheels,” EagleRider co-founder Chris McIntyre tells our huddled group before we embark. The way McIntyre speaks has an infectious, evangelizing tinge to it, and by the time he describes motorcycle riding as being as American as “apple pie,” I realize I've not only drunk the KoolAid, I've tasted every last drop. I actually wouldn’t be on two wheels this trip (no motorcycle license to my name), but no worry. Instead, I was presented with this... thing called a Polaris Slingshot SL, a low-slung red-and-black beast exploding with sharp angles and a Transformers-like profile. As I hopped in place with excitement like a toddler fresh off a candy binge, I thought: For once in my life, I’m excited to drive.

Slipping into the driver’s seat of a Slingshot, for lack of a more complex description, simply makes one feel cool. It’s a go-kart on steroids, created, it seems, with the primary intention of turning heads. With 173 horsepower, three wheels, bucket seats, and open-air sides, it’s not quite a car, not quite a motorcycle; it's basically the DMZ of motor vehicles. I pop the radio on to Daft Punk’s “Get Lucky,” don my sleek, black helmet, and start the Slingshot to a satisfying rumble. Sitting in what looked like a weekender Batmobile and wearing an array of tailored armor had the unintended side effect of letting my inner badass shine through, and I was ready to let this newly found alter ego rip it on the road.

Okay, so I had to slog through a few hours of L.A. traffic first, but even at a crawl, it was hard to not be aware I was living a Mad Max fantasy. Other drivers gawked, passersby tugged on friends' shirts and pointed. The Slingshot is an event, and not just for the driver. Eventually, buildings and people peeled away to open fields and, free from peacocking, I was able to get a feel for my relationship with the drive. Highways slimmed to two lanes, hillsides exploded with yellow flowers, and palm trees gave way to pine as we began to climb through the San Bernardino mountains. What would have been mundane in a car now felt like living in a video game. Zippy, hairpin turns with all the sense of tangled cables were a rush to take; I loved bursting through low-lying clouds, the altitude's chill on my hands. It was at once a sensory overload and a centering experience. Architect Antoine Predock once said, "The connection to place, to the land, the wind, the sun, stars, the moon... it sounds romantic, but it's true—the visceral experience of motion, of moving through time on some amazing machine—a few cars touch on it, but not too many compared to motorcycles." Or, you know, pseudo-Batmobiles. I was starting to get it.

We swept up through iconically retro Palm Springs, through Joshua Tree and the desperado-like names of its sightseeing stops (Fried Liver Wash, Hall of Horrors), and down through Arizona en route to our end point in Las Vegas. There was an afternoon in the forgotten gold rush town of Oatman, and a stretch of driving on historic Route 66. It all felt otherworldly, especially given the juxtaposition of my future-forward ride with the dusty classicism of our stops.

I saw the terrain of the Southwest in a completely new way and caved to the romanticism. I enjoyed the roar of the engine on barren roads that hugged cliff sides; I drank in the scenery. The overripe peach tones of plateaus, chalky greens of rolling brush, and gnarly, Dr. Seuss-like profiles of desert trees stretched out for miles, without a single man-made building in sight. On these back roads, there is the sense of being able to see the whole of the world stretched out before you, and driving it in a Slingshot, with its openness, its ferocity, and, perhaps most importantly, its demand for attention (no checking makeup or taking phone calls the way you would in a car), there's a definite Zen-ness attained.

The arrival in Las Vegas that marked the end of our journey was bittersweet. I had to give up the Slingshot for an Uber, an airplane, my car back home—boxes in which to sit and waste time in order to get somewhere else. EagleRider and my trusty Slingshot had shown me that the way you get somewhere can be just as joyous as the arrival. In other words, when you’re going 90 miles per hour in a sleek roadster that would be at home on an action movie set, it truly is about the journey, not the destination.

Based in Los Angeles with multiple locations across the United States, EagleRider is the world leader in motorcycle rentals and tours. With a fleet that includes brands like Harley-Davidson, Indian, BMW, Honda, and Polaris, EagleRider creates unique experiential tours for all kinds of adventure seekers. The Polaris Slingshot SL is available for rent at all EagleRider locations.

Photo by PHIVES Photography
Photo by JP Yim/Getty Images

Sounds fake, but okay

In a new interview for Australian Vogue, Kendall Jenner makes the claim that being associated with the Kardashian name was a setback in her modeling career. Hmmm, that's funny, because power and influence usually works in their holder's favor.

In the interview, Jenner addresses skeptics who doubted that she would make it as a professional model. "A lot of people assumed that because I came from a 'name' that it was a lot easier for me to get to where I got, but actually it's the completely opposite," she says.

"I've always been the person to prove [critics] wrong, even when I was younger," she says. "I've always been a hard worker: that's in my blood. My parents raised me and my little sister to be that way and the rest of my sisters, too." In the profile, it's revealed that Jenner used to attend castings "simply as 'K' or 'Kendall' to distinguish herself from her famous family."

But keeping her name off her portfolio wasn't going to fool anyone, really. Her face has been on television for years, and it seems unlikely that a casting agent wouldn't know who she was even if Kendall didn't come out and say it. Perhaps Jenner was more closely examined and more readily criticized by people who doubted her, but I'm not sure I believe that she had a harder time gaining a modeling platform or booking big jobs, even if she didn't use her last name.

After all, Jenner was likely able to get into those big casting rooms right away because of her family's connections, and she was able to devote her time to pursuing that career because of the wealth they have. She would've had a much harder time making a name for herself if she didn't come from an influential family. She probably wouldn't get to be so selective about which shows she walks, and she definitely wouldn't be the highest paid model in the world.

Screenshot via Hulu

Introspection is not a bad thing

In Look Back at It, we revisit pop culture gems of the past and see if they're still relevant and worthy of their designated icon status in our now wildly different world.

"It just seems like you agree to have a certain personality or something, for no reason. Just to make things easier for everyone. But when you think about it, I mean, how do you know it's even you?"

Iconic '90s show My So-Called Life is filled with existential questions and observations like this, with many, if not all of them, voiced by high school sophomore Angela Chase (Claire Danes). They're delivered with a familiarly annoyed tone, as if Angela can't believe things are the way they are, and that they're unlikely to change.

Angela lives with her parents and sister in a comfortable home in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and spends her time navigating the social scene of Liberty High School. She's undergoing a big change, having switched friend groups and fallen in with a cooler crew, namely Rayanne Graff (A.J. Langer) and Rickie Vasquez (Wilson Cruz). Thanks to them, Angela dyed her hair from blonde to a "Crimson Glow," and is encouraged to indulge in her obsession with Jordan Catalano (a pre-Gucci Jared Leto), the kind of guy who's constantly applying Visine and has a limited chance of actively graduating.

From the first moment of the first episode, Angela's voice is pure, unadulterated teen angst. The melodrama can, when watching as an adult, feel like it's too much. And then there's other times, like when Angela talks about the agony of Sunday evenings, that it feels unnerving to relate so much to a 15-year-old:

"There's something about Sunday night that really makes you want to kill yourself, especially if you've just been totally made a fool of by the only person you'll ever love, and you have a geometry midterm on Monday, which you still haven't studied for because you can't, because Brian Krakow has your textbook, and you're too embarrassed to even deal with it. And your little sister's completely finished with her homework, which is just, like, so simple and mindless a child could do it. And that creepy 60 Minutes watch that sounds like your whole life ticking away."

Angela is nothing if not an over-thinker, preoccupied with very teenage problems like zits and gossip and who to talk to at parties; her thoughts on the most simple of relationships are extreme, like when she thinks about how she felt before she became friends with Rayanne and Rickie: "it seemed like if I didn't, I would die or something."

Sometimes, her melodrama feels suffocating—particularly when related to Jordan Catalano (it's imperative to say both his names). Angela wonders: "Huge events take place on this earth every day. Earthquakes, hurricanes... even glaciers move. So why couldn't he just look at me?"

As an adult, it's easy to think that, of course, Jordan should look at her: She's smart, witty, open-hearted, pretty, has good taste in music. But then, there's no way to make sense of how crushes work. As a sophomore in high school, I also pined after guys who I felt were out of my league, and after the only girls who were out... but who were dating each other. My thoughts probably (definitely) sounded a lot like Angela's, and I was similarly dissatisfied with my life.

At the time, that dissatisfaction felt oppressive—and I wouldn't want to relive it entirely. But that introspection was also what saved me. By questioning what was around me and interrogating how I really felt, I was able to reject the trappings of my conservative town, figure out my own politics, and accept my own queerness. My teenage dissatisfaction with the way things actually are made me grow as a person, and it shaped me into who I am. Thinking about Angela now, and how her angst fueled her, reminds me that I should also let myself indulge in some teen angst—even as an adult.

In one of the show's final episodes, Angela pauses to reflect on the value of her overthinking. She's ringing in the New Year with her friends and decides her resolution could be "to stop getting so caught up in my own thoughts, because I'm like way too introspective… I think." But she decides against that idea, because "what if not thinking turns me into this really shallow person?" Same, Angela. Same.

Courtesy of HBO

Thanks, I hate it

In an interview today with The Cut, Vanderpump Rules star Stassi Schroeder blessed readers with some of her thoughts on HBO's Game of Thrones, and since we can't get enough GoT talk, we were excited to see what Schroeder had to say.

And, in case you're wondering if Schroeder is a fan of GoT, don't: She's actually such a massive fan that she refers to her fans Khaleesis, and they call her Khaleesi right back. So!

Anyway, after the wide range of responses to Daenerys' fiery mayhem in the show's penultimate episode, The Cut wanted to check in to see how Schroeder was faring, and ask what she thought of it all. While Schroeder's opinion on Dany is mixed (she found the Dragon Queen's "crazy" actions to be relatable, but she didn't think it followed Dany's character arc), it wasn't, like, a bad opinion, just a bit muddled, if not so different than those of the majority of viewers.

Schroeder's real hot take, though—what we feel comfortable calling the worst GoT opinion we've heard—is about another character altogether: Arya Stark. Here's what Schroeder had to say about our favorite blacksmith-banging, Night King-killing, proposal-denying assassin in all the Seven Kingdoms: "Arya, I feel like she probably should have just married whats-his-name [Ed. note: Gendry! His name is Gendry!!]. What's wrong with being a lady and a badass at the same time? You don't have to choose just one."

And, like, sure, you don't have to choose just one, but Arya would never choose to be a lady. That's not her! So, if we're still talking about characters behaving inconsistently, Arya saying yes to a proposal (a rushed one at that) would have been absolutely bonkers. Arya's not about to change her entire personality just because some dude drops down on one knee and proposes, and to want her to do so would be like wanting Dany to act like a sheep, instead of a dragon.

All to say, you know nothing, Stassi Schroeder.

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hoto by Steve Jennings/Getty Images for Civic Entertainment Group

Our favorite grouchy girl died today

Today is a sad day, because it is the day Grumpy Cat died. Also known as my personal favorite feline celebrity, Grumpy Cat died from complications following a urinary tract infection. The super relatable cat—real name, Tardar Sauce—was only seven years old.

Grumpy Cat was first introduced to the world in 2011, back when LOLcats were everywhere. Grumpy Cat's downturned face (the result of feline dwarfism, according to her owners) was the subject of a huge amount of memes—she was even the 2013 Meme of the Year at the Webby Awards—and was the subject of her own Lifetime movie, in which she was voiced by the Grumpy Cat of actresses, Aubrey Plaza. But, though we loved her for the memes, we loved her even more because we related to her mood.

Grumpy Cat was so relatable because, like us, she was completely over everyone's bullshit. Unlike us, Grumpy Cat didn't hide her feelings with a smile. And while that was because Grumpy Cat literally couldn't do that, we like to think that she also just didn't want to do the emotional labor. Which is why, in honor of Grumpy Cat, have the courage to roll your eyes at someone today, instead of forcing a fake grin. And just think about how Grumpy Cat's probably frowning at us from some sort of kitty afterlife, utterly annoyed that everyone is mourning her death.

Screenshot via YouTube

And I need to see the rest ASAP

As excited as we already are for Olivia Wilde's directorial debut, Booksmart, to hit theaters next week, we just got even more desperate to see it. Why? Well, the first six minutes of the film were just released, and every minute is incredible.

The film opens on Molly (Beanie Feldstein) meditating and listening to a motivational tape telling her she's better than everyone else, and to "fuck those losers." Her room is decorated with pictures of Michelle Obama and RBG, so we know her head is in the right place. We learn she's the class president when she arrives at school with her best friend, Amy (Kaitlyn Dever).

It's there that we get a glimpse of the social hierarchy in which Molly and Amy exist—but somewhere down near the bottom, way below the popular kids, the theater nerds, the stoners, and even the annoying class clown.

The film officially hits theaters on May 23, but Annapurna Pictures is holding advanced screenings across the country today, May 17—we're actually holding two of them! So, if you're in L.A. or New York, check them out.

But also, you can watch the first six minutes of the film, below, and prepare yourself to watch the whole movie in a week.

BOOKSMART | Uncut First 6 Minutes