KIDS ARE KIDS the world over—they love to run and yell and play in the sun. The difference is where it happens. Children at a school in Bethlehem take recess behind thick walls to protect them from gunfire, while youngsters in Tokyo amuse themselves on a rooftop seven stories up. Playgrounds vary by location and circumstance, but play remains the same.
ONE SUNNY DAY last week, I drove from my office in San Francisco over the Bay Bridge, down Interstate 880 and into a parking lot at the defunct Alameda Naval Air Station. I was late, so I wasn’t exactly driving cautiously. I weaved through traffic going 15 mph over the speed limit, alternating between tailgating and passing cars on the right. Because I didn’t know where I was going and didn’t take the time to plug the address in the car’s nav system, I had my eyes glued to my phone for much of the trip.
THE KILLERS ROLLED slowly down the narrow alley, three men jammed onto a single motorcycle. It was a little after 11 am on July 31, 2013, the sun beating down on the low, modest residential buildings lining a back street in the Indian farming village of Raipur. Faint smells of cooking spices, dust, and sewage seasoned the air. The men stopped the bike in front of the orange door of a two-story brick-and-plaster house. Two of them dismounted, eased open the unlocked door, and slipped into the darkened bedroom on the other side. White kerchiefs covered their lower faces. One of them carried a pistol.
THE VANQUISH IS Aston Martin’s flagship grand tourer, and though it is gorgeous, it hasn’t changed much since Ian Callum designed the first generation in 2001. Now Henrik Fisker, who followed Callum as design director at Aston Martin before founding his own company, has given the Vanquish a muscular update—and a completely new way of interacting with the interior.