Some ideas are so simple, so pure, so sublime that, when they arrive, it's a wonder no one thought of them before. Like dispensing dental floss from the cap of the toothpaste tube. Or selling ad space above men's urinals.

Or, as this site so wonderfully illustrates, celebrating the decades-long conflation of the automotive and female form through the immortal medium of advertising. (Yes, some people see this is as little more than the objectifcation of women. We don't disagree. Nor does it stop us from looking.)

The wonder of the site is that it travels through years and years of car ads, but never once takes its eye off of the message -- sex sells. Sometimes, as in this rather odd Triumph TR7 ad from the late 1970s, the message gets a bit garbled.

Is the woman hiding from the car? Is she waiting for it?  Is she playing a game?  Is she totally insane?

We're not qualified to judge. And, in fact, judgment doesn't enter into the equation. Instead, one simply scrolls through image after image of car and woman, car and woman and dog, car and woman and gun, until a Zen-like calm settles over the entire enterprise, and one begins to feel that the world has, finally, been reduced to its elements: steel-belted radials, a transmission that feels like butter, a groovy yellow outfit with even groovier yellow boots, and maybe a loaded 12-gauge shotgun for good measure.

--BEN COSGROVE

The 1966 Dart