A show at the Corcoran Gallery in D.C. carrying the title Modernism: Designing a New World 1914-1939 is worth checking out simply because ... well, it's a show at the Corcoran, and the Corcoran, as everyone knows, is a splendid place to spend a few hours before heading over to Maya Lin's Vietnam Memorial and crying your eyes out.

But aside from the Corcoran's overall, routine excellence, there's also one very immediate reason -- one tactile, three-dimensional, sexy, nicely shining reason -- for visiting the gallery this summer: namely, the presence in the Modernism show of one of the rarest of all Modernist cars, the wondrous, dorsal-finned Czech Tatra T77.

As Michael Mraz wrote in a previous MV Motoring blog entry, after spending a little time in a Tatra on the Louis Vuitton Boheme Run:

"Tatra, named after the mountain range that divides Poland and Slovakia, was founded in 1850 as a wagon manufacturer. Following Mercedes-Benz and Peugot, it's arguably the third oldest automaker in the world, producing Central Europe's first automobile in 1897. Today the company is synonymous with its boldly modern designs from the mid 20th century -- many of the earlier models, especially the 77 introduced in 1934, resemble prehistoric beasts you'd expect to find on the ocean floor.

The 603 is best known for its Communist origins. In 1948 all Czech companies, including Tatra, were nationalized. To meet the upper ranks's desires, Tatra introduced its first luxury car in 1957: The 603 was a 6-seater limousine reserved for Communist dignitaries and Eastern European party heads. (A great history of the 603 can be found at this aficionado's site.) Fidel Castro had, and allegedly still owns, a white 603."

Dorsal fins. Mountain ranges. Commie bigwigs. Fidel behind the wheel. How could you not go see this thing in person?

Modernism: Designing a New World runs through July 29, 2007.

--BEN COSGROVE

For two weeks in April, the New York International Auto Show set up shop in Manhattan. In a city where the subway bench reigns over the driver's seat, this pocket of red-blooded Americana was a nation unto itself, an island within an island. As always, it was housed in the maligned Jacob Javits Convention Center -- an edifice squatting on the far western edge of the island and a sight more depressing than imposing -- and offered row upon row, floor upon floor of fuel-burnin', hood-slammin' vehicular pride.

I started my wanderings on the first floor, where production model Nissan Titans and Toyota Tundras with oversized tires gleamed in all their showroom glory, overshadowing smaller, more fuel-efficient models. Freed from the attention-grabbing ethanol cars and concept models upstairs (more on those later), they catered to the basest whims of the car customer -- size, horsepower, sweet rims. I was lucky enough to catch the "How to Load the Back of a Truck: Rules of the Load" information session, but missed out on the free hat. When the announcer asked, "Who's having fun? Anyone?" no one spoke up, and he didn't look too surprised.

I found the concept cars upstairs, all of them devoid of right angles -- a pre-req for any vaguely futuristic design, it seems. Seeing them on their giant rotating pedestals, I was reminded of kebabs at a falafel joint, but, unlike these cars, kebabs are conveniently available for purchase at a reasonable price. The Ford Airsteam, meant to evoke carefree trips to Yosemite with mom and dad, came complete with a lava lamp and all-red interior, a silver plated mash-up of clichés from various decades. Conscientiously placed beside the Hummers sat the Chevy Volt, which, by 2012, should promise 40 miles on one electric charge, or 640 miles with a tank of gas. Our host, happily rotating alongside her subject, couldn't offer a price, but promised that the "golden bowtie" on the hood (I eventually gleaned that she meant the famous Chevy logo) meant it wouldn't be out of reach. How did the crowd react to this promise of a green future for little green?

"Let's go to Bentleys," said a man to his wife. They voted with their feet.

Speaking of being out of reach, in strolling over to the elite brands -- Ferrari, Lamborghini, etc. -- I was deterred by waist-high glass pens, intended to keep the average Joes out among the domestics. A stern doorwoman at Aston Martin offered a kind explanation for the segregation: "Because we're an exclusive car company." Turns out to just get inside the pen, one needed an appointment or a deposit.

Of course, my visit was not a total wash. The BMWs and Saabs impressed, as did the $450,000 Mercedes SLR, certainly the last sports car one would ever need -- or for 99 percent of us, be able to afford. As I wasn't purchasing any of these fine specimens, a good minute of so in the cabin did wonders for the ego. As far as egos go, perhaps the Ford Shelby GT500 will revive the flagging company's self-esteem. (Something needs to.) Volvo had an eye-catching 1927 PV4 Jakob, something Al Capone's Swedish partner might have driven. And the New York State Troopers were seen happily recruiting fresh blood, with the aide of their black-and-purple Chevy Tahoe. But I wasn't looking for a career change. All in all, an eventful day, but after briefly giving some thought to braving Jeep's strange and pointless obstacle course, I was happy to be back on city streets.

Unfortunately, cabs were scarce there in the wastelands of the far west side, and bus service was sketchy, at best. If only I had taken a car …

-- NICK MOSQUERA

There are car auctions, and then there are car auctions, and the upcoming auction at the Larz Anderson Auto Museum in Brookline, Mass., featuring vehicles from the The Frank Cooke Collection, is of the sort that makes avid collectors reach for their drool cups.

Cooke (1913-2005) was an optical engineering genius who worked on projects like NASA's Galileo probe and the Hubble telescope. His love of all things mechanical -- and especially his love of cars -- led him to create the legendary Vintage Garage at North Brookfield, "a true Aladdin's Cave reflecting the eclectic tastes of its owner," according to Malcolm Barber, CEO of the Bonhams & Butterfields auction house. On April 21, Bonhams and the Larz Anderson Museum will put on the block dozens of Mercedes-Benzes, Caddies, Pierce Arrows, Packards, Rolls-Royces (Cooke's special passion), and the show stopper -- one of the first three 1926 Type 39A supercharged Grand Prix Bugatti racing two-seaters (pictured).

As the Bonhams catalog has it: "The works team deployed by the world-famous Molsheim factory represented the creme de la creme during Bugatti's heyday in the 1920s. These cars established the halo under which Mr. Bugatti developed ingenious variations upon the basic high-performance theme to encourage enthusiastic private owners to step up to his sales counter and invest in Le Pur Sang -- 'The Pure Bloodline.' It is the works cars, driven by Bugatti's greatest drivers, upon which the Bugatti legend is based. Without doubt, it was in 1926 that Ettore Bugatti truly found his feet as a high-performance motor car manufacturer of International stature."

No doubt true, and impressive. But the real appeal of this car, and of so many others in the Cooke collection, is simply that they're sexy as hell.

The 39A is expected to fetch somewhere between $1.3 and $1.6 million, and frankly, we can't really think of too many better ways to spend a million-and-a-half bucks.

-- BEN COSGROVE

Consider, for a moment, the phenomenon of the entertainment personality that, over the years, traverses the cardinal stages of recognition -- star, has-been, punch line, and improbable comeback kid -- in the public's fickle imagination.

Burt Reynolds fits the bill. Mickey Rourke, of course. Travolta was there for a while, but has somehow slipped back into the "punch line" category with his recent efforts. But the newest member of the club is perhaps the most unexpected of them all, and certainly the one that has aged the best: KITT, from the hit 1980s TV show, Knight Rider. The modified, black, and highly verbal '82 Pontiac Trans Am is back in the news, and back in our hearts, now that it (he?) is up for sale at a Dublin, Calif., auto dealership for a mere $149,995.

Officially named the "Knight Industries Two Thousand" but forever KITT to its fans, the car evokes memories of a simpler world where wonderfully cheesy dialog, awful acting, and even worse special effects actually constituted entertainment.

We're still waiting, of course, for KITT's cheeky, crime-fighting partner in the show, David "I tore down the Berlin wall with my music, damn you!" Hasselhoff, to make the leap from weirdly uncharismatic, huge-in-Europe, slightly laughable celeb to rehabilitated icon, with maybe a role in an earnestly hipper-than-thou Robert Rodriguez flick to cement the deal -- but, really, we're not holding our breath.

--BEN COSGROVE