Despite our nonstop globetrotting lifestyles, which regularly whisk us away to drive the planet's coolest, most exotic cars, the fact is, none of us can actually afford that bottle of Chateau Margaux served during the press dinner, much less the car we're there to test. Because under our Nordstrom Rack sport coats, we're journalists, not hedge-fund managers. Somewhere on the 405 freeway as we head home from our Walter Mitty day jobs, our horse-drawn carriages poof into mice and pumpkins. Or more accurately, into regular-people cars. And sometimes actually into a Camry, the seminal sedan of modern America.
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