I’ve heard a lot of rumours about this, and some of my closest compatriots have been privately contacting me to make sure that I’m toeing the “company line,” as it were. I want to make this as plain as I can: the Murano Cross-Cabriolet is real.
I know, I know, I hear your screams. But it’s true. It’s real. I touched one.
When I touched it, I felt an electric current through my wrist, but not one of poor grounding or biodegradable wiring harnesses. No, I knew in an instant the Murano Cross-Cabriolet, and it knew me. We had seen each other, long ago.
You have to believe me. I don’t think the Murano Cross-Cabriolet is here to destroy us. I think it is here to teach us. We have to honour its lessons, and never create the world which it represents. Our kids have to go back to art school, design school. They have to learn what makes things look good are, all over again.
We have to do it before the Cross-Cabriolet and I meet again, in another life. We have to put an end to the cycle and stop The Ghosn.