Word: bmw
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...even luxurious Mercedes-Benz. The latest manifestation of Honda's vaulting ambitions is its bold entry into the U.S. luxury-car market. Well established in the so-called yuppie market with its comfortable Accord, the company takes aim with its latest entry, the Acura, at such upscale trademarks as BMW and Saab...
...appeal is similarly diverse. New Age is the perfect music for washing one's BMW, which accounts for its stereotyping as yuppie Muzak. But, notes Hugh Ashcraft, owner of a record store in Charlotte, N.C., "we have a wide range of people buying this stuff. There's a good number of old hippies, and mothers and grandmothers." Jenny McEwen, a Charlotte nurse, listens to New Age music on Sunday nights because "it dissipates the dread of Monday mornings. I find myself actually looking forward to the week...
...technology at Siemens, the West German electronics giant, he had hired security guards, barred windows and installed alarms at his villa in Strasslach, south of Munich. Last week Beckurts, 56, lost his battle against ter rorism. On his way to work, Beckurts and the driver of his gray BMW limousine were killed 875 yards from his home when a hidden roadside bomb blew the vehicle across the road and into a fence. A letter filled with Marxist jargon was found near the blast, and identified those responsible for the attack as West Germany's Red Army Faction. The letter claimed...
...Molly's white BMW jackrabbits through the midday traffic as she drives from home to drop by her dad's luncheonette in Van Nuys. Bob's Snack Bar: "Where the Elite Meet to Eat." Ringwald, a burly, gray-bearded man, has been blind since he was ten; he took over the restaurant last year under a Government program to teach retail-management skills to the handicapped. Most days he is up at 5 and works in the shop until late afternoon. When Molly greets him, he stage-whispers, "I can't have you coming in like this. All my customers...
...BMW streaks across the Hollywood Hills toward the gigantic Tower Records store on Sunset Boulevard. Molly pops into the dashboard tape deck a cassette by her favorite Los Angeles band, the Rave-Ups. The glove compartment is so stuffed with tapes it won't close, and the back seat is littered with the plastic placentas of cassette containers. The bikers and pink-haired punkettes hanging out in front of Tower Records recognize Molly even before she parks, but the mode is cool: a slow nod, a thin smile and distance. In one corner of the store, David Lee Roth...