If Top Gear in its golden era was about turning car reviews into epic mythology, then the 2009 Middle East Special (full title: Top Gear: Three Wise Men Go to Bethlehem ) is the series' most unexpectedly heartfelt gospel.
The premise was quintessential Clarkson, Hammond, and May: to prove that modern cars had lost their rugged souls, they would drive three cheap, two-seat roadsters from the northern tip of Iraq to the birthplace of Jesus. Their chariots? A deliberately tragic trio of £3,500 convertibles: an Oxford-beige Fiat Barchetta (Clarkson), a hideously "chameleon" purple Mazda MX-5 (Hammond), and a perpetually leaking BMW Z3 (May). top gear specials middle east
Defeated, they park their battered, leaking, smoking convertibles in a deserted car park. In a moment of quiet, unscripted magic, they realize the irony: three wise men, led by a sat-nav, only to end up sleeping in the back of a Mazda MX-5 and a Fiat Barchetta. If Top Gear in its golden era was
Clarkson looks to the sky. "There's no room at the inn," he says. "But we've got a stable." He gestures to his oil-stained Fiat. The camera pans up to a star. It is absurd, pathetic, and deeply, strangely beautiful. A deliberately tragic trio of £3,500 convertibles: an
The brilliance of the episode lies in its tonal juggling act. One moment, you are weeping with laughter as James May’s BMW bursts into flames for the third time, forcing him to extinguish it with a bottle of water and sheer resignation. The next, you are genuinely nervous as the trio, dressed in cheap velvet robes they bought from a market, are stopped by armed police while trying to find a Nativity scene.
It remains the definitive Top Gear special because it understood that the best journeys aren’t about the cars. They are about the men inside them, trying to find a little bit of peace—and a working fuel pump—at the end of the world.
If Top Gear in its golden era was about turning car reviews into epic mythology, then the 2009 Middle East Special (full title: Top Gear: Three Wise Men Go to Bethlehem ) is the series' most unexpectedly heartfelt gospel.
The premise was quintessential Clarkson, Hammond, and May: to prove that modern cars had lost their rugged souls, they would drive three cheap, two-seat roadsters from the northern tip of Iraq to the birthplace of Jesus. Their chariots? A deliberately tragic trio of £3,500 convertibles: an Oxford-beige Fiat Barchetta (Clarkson), a hideously "chameleon" purple Mazda MX-5 (Hammond), and a perpetually leaking BMW Z3 (May).
Defeated, they park their battered, leaking, smoking convertibles in a deserted car park. In a moment of quiet, unscripted magic, they realize the irony: three wise men, led by a sat-nav, only to end up sleeping in the back of a Mazda MX-5 and a Fiat Barchetta.
Clarkson looks to the sky. "There's no room at the inn," he says. "But we've got a stable." He gestures to his oil-stained Fiat. The camera pans up to a star. It is absurd, pathetic, and deeply, strangely beautiful.
The brilliance of the episode lies in its tonal juggling act. One moment, you are weeping with laughter as James May’s BMW bursts into flames for the third time, forcing him to extinguish it with a bottle of water and sheer resignation. The next, you are genuinely nervous as the trio, dressed in cheap velvet robes they bought from a market, are stopped by armed police while trying to find a Nativity scene.
It remains the definitive Top Gear special because it understood that the best journeys aren’t about the cars. They are about the men inside them, trying to find a little bit of peace—and a working fuel pump—at the end of the world.
