Someone Built a True-Scale LEGO Velociraptor Skeleton and I Can’t Wait To Buy One

Jurassic Park lied to you. The velociraptors that terrorized a kitchen full of children and hunted Jeff Goldblum through tall grass were modeled after Deinonychus, a considerably larger North American cousin, because the filmmakers thought the real animal’s name sounded cooler than its actual dimensions warranted. The real Velociraptor mongoliensis stood about 1.6 feet at the hip and weighed roughly as much as a medium-sized dog. Formidable, certainly, but built to the scale of a farmyard bird rather than an apex predator capable of coordinated ambushes.

Which is exactly what makes this LEGO Ideas submission by creator Terraxz so interesting. Built to true scale from paleontological measurements of a juvenile V. mongoliensis specimen, the model sits at approximately 120 cm long and 40 cm tall on a museum-style display stand. It has the ribcage, the vertebrae, the sickle claw, the whole skeleton rendered in tan brick. LEGO has been on a fossil skeleton tear lately, but nobody has attempted one at actual 1:1 scale until now.

Designer: Terraxz

LEGO’s Dinosaur Fossils line began as a fan submission that became the 910-piece Ideas set 21320, featuring T. rex, Triceratops, and Pteranodon skeletons at 1:32 scale. LEGO then escalated with the Jurassic World set 76968, a 3,145-piece T. rex skeleton stretching over 105 cm at 1:12 scale, which launched in March 2025 and immediately became the largest Jurassic World set the company had ever produced. Every iteration in this lineage has been a scaled-down representation, a display piece calibrated for shelf real estate rather than scientific fidelity. Terraxz is doing something structurally different: the model matches the actual size of the animal it depicts, which reframes the whole exercise from decorative object to physical argument about what the creature actually was.

Look at the skull closeup and you can see individual tooth rows built from stacked brick elements, fenestrae represented as open negative space through clever plate offsetting, and a jawline that actually captures the elongated low-profile snout that distinguishes V. mongoliensis from the broader-headed Hollywood version. The spine runs in a proper S-curve, the tail extends horizontally as it should for a bipedal theropod using it as a counterbalance, and the legs are proportioned correctly for an animal that stood 0.5 meters at the hip rather than eye level. The black display armature borrows the same museum-mount language as LEGO’s official sets, with cross-braced vertical supports that would look at home in any natural history gallery.

A fully adult V. mongoliensis reaches around 1.8 to 2 meters in length, which would push this build into genuinely unwieldy display territory. Choosing a juvenile specimen is a calibrated decision that keeps the model physically manageable while maintaining the true-scale claim, and it maps to real fossil record data: a complete juvenile skeleton described from the Djadochta Formation gives the builder a legitimate scientific reference point rather than an averaged extrapolation. Terraxz has a catalog of related MOCs on Rebrickable, including a true-scale V. mongoliensis skull, so this submission is the culmination of an ongoing paleontology project rather than a standalone pitch.

LEGO Ideas requires 10,000 supporter votes within the submission window for a design to enter official review, and Terraxz currently sits at just over 1,000 with 605 days remaining. That’s enough time to accrue the votes needed to turn this into a retail set. I’m pretty sure that a whole bunch of people beyond
paleontologists would like a to-scale velociraptor skeleton adorning their bedroom or hallway. The submission is live on the LEGO Ideas website, and it takes about thirty seconds to cast your vote, so what exactly are you waiting for?

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Nintendo Patented a Dual-Screen Switch and Never Made It. Here’s What It Looked Like.

Nintendo had a choice when designing the Switch 2. They could iterate on the formula that made the original a cultural phenomenon, refining the single-screen hybrid into a faster, sharper, better version of itself. Or they could reach back into their own history, pull out the design philosophy that once made the DS family the best-selling handheld hardware line of all time, and merge two eras of thinking into something genuinely new. They picked the first path. Designer Juan Manuel Guerrero just sketched out the second.

The concept arrives as a series of beautifully lit 3D renders: a folding Nintendo Switch with dual screens, a hinge running through the center of the body, and Joy-Cons in the familiar blue-red split attached to either end. The renders carry the finish of product photography, which makes it genuinely easy to forget this never shipped. Closed, it looks like a sleek, pocket-ready device with a tighter footprint than the original Switch. Open, it recalls something older and warmer, the quiet satisfaction of flipping a DS open on a long car ride, except now the screens are large, the controllers are proper, and the whole thing feels built for today. The proportions are deliberate, the design choices are considered, and the whole thing wears its Nintendo identity without apology.

Designer: Juan Manuel Guerrero

The Nintendo DS sat at 154.02 million lifetime units for years, the gold standard for Nintendo hardware, until the Switch finally crept past it in early 2026 with 155.37 million. Two hardware generations, both cultural touchstones, separated by fewer than two million units across a combined history of roughly three decades. The closeness of that race matters. The DS built those numbers on a genuine design idea, a spatial logic where two screens gave developers room for two distinct kinds of information at once, and players responded to that for fifteen years. Guerrero’s concept asks whether the Switch era ever had to leave that behind.

Phantom Hourglass let you draw on the bottom screen to annotate your own maps and solve puzzles, an idea original enough to win awards at the time. Pokemon Diamond and Pearl split the party menu from the battlefield, giving battles a spatial clarity the GBA never had room for. GTA: Chinatown Wars ran the full city map on the lower display and handed the top panel entirely to the action. These were designs built entirely around the format, dependent on the split in a way that made them fall apart on a single screen. That vocabulary has been sitting idle for the better part of a decade.

Samsung’s Galaxy Z Fold 6 runs a 7.6-inch interior display and represents the sixth generation of the company working foldable hardware into something genuinely reliable. Motorola, OnePlus, Google, and Huawei all have competitive entries in the space. Display durability and hinge reliability have been largely solved through successive product generations and real commercial pressure. A dual-screen Switch in 2025 wouldn’t be asking anyone to invent something new; the foldable category has already done the hard engineering work. Guerrero’s concept asks someone to point that already-mature technology at a gaming audience.

The DS touchscreen read as a toy gimmick in 2004. The Wii’s motion controls got laughed at before that console sold 101 million units. The Switch itself looked like a confused category play until it climbed past 155 million units and became Nintendo’s best-selling platform ever. That history of moves that look sideways before they land is the context Guerrero’s concept actually lives in. The foldable technology exists, the Joy-Con design language holds across both halves of the fold, and the IP is coherent. Someone drew it. Now it’s genuinely difficult to look at the Switch 2 without wondering what the other path could have looked like.

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Killscreen’s N64 Funtastic-inspired Translucent Blue PS5 Controller Is Pure 1999 Nostalgia

The N64 Funtastic series was Nintendo’s most chaotic design decision, and that’s a compliment. Launched in 1999, the translucent controllers and consoles arrived at the tail end of a broader cultural moment: Apple had just cracked open the iMac G3’s candy-colored shell and shown the world that visible circuitry could be beautiful, and the consumer electronics industry was scrambling to catch up. Nintendo’s version came in six flavors, including Ice Blue, a saturated cyan-teal that looked like it had been poured directly from a Jolly Rancher mold. The controllers were transparent all the way through, which meant you could see every lever, spring, and pivot point in the mechanism. That was the whole point. Showing the guts was the product.

Killscreen, the Florida-based controller studio that has built its entire catalog on surgical retro revisionism, has now transplanted that exact aesthetic onto a PS5 DualSense. The Funtastic Ice Blue/Clear is a limited-edition PS5 controller with an Ice Blue translucent front shell and a crystal-clear back exposing the circuit board, wiring, and battery assembly beneath. It is native PS5 hardware, with wireless connectivity, haptic feedback, and adaptive triggers all intact. The base price is $139, with optional Omron hair triggers, mechanical face buttons, and GuliKit TMR thumbsticks available as upgrades.

Designer: Killscreen

Killscreen co-founder Erik Consorsha is upfront about the fundamental absurdity here: “There’s something slightly wrong about putting a Funtastic-style translucent controller on modern hardware. That’s exactly why we did it.” That instinct for productive wrongness is the throughline in everything Killscreen has released. The CubeSense put GameCube colorways and C-stick nubs on a DualSense. The 1080-R matched, with forensic precision, the exact gray of a factory-sealed 1995 PS1 controller, cracking one open just to get the color right. Each release is a deliberate category violation: taking an aesthetic that belonged to one console, one era, one design culture, and suturing it onto hardware from a completely different lineage. The Funtastic Ice Blue/Clear does the same thing, except the donor and recipient have never shared a design language in their lives.

The original Ice Blue N64 Funtastic controller sits next to the Killscreen version in the press photos, and the color match is uncomfortably close. What the image also captures is 25 years of ergonomic progress in a single frame: the N64’s trident silhouette, one of the most geometrically baffling controllers ever mass-produced, against the DualSense’s precisely contoured twin-grip body. Same shade, completely different idea of what a human hand needs. The face buttons on the Killscreen controller are bright primary yellow, blue, and green, pulled from the N64’s own candy palette rather than PlayStation’s iconic shape symbols, and on a Sony controller body they read as genuinely disorienting in the best possible way.

The 1999 Nintendo controllers were a single homogeneous translucent color all the way through: same Ice Blue from the front plate to the grip tips to every molded ridge. Killscreen splits the register three ways: Ice Blue translucent on the front half, crystal-clear on the rear panel, and matte gray on the trigger caps, thumbstick tops, and d-pad. That tripartite material logic is more visually considered than anything Nintendo attempted in 1999. The clear back is where the real design confidence lives: you can see the circuit board, the wiring harness in yellow and red, the USB-C port, and a Killscreen “Human Machine Interface” label on the main board. The internals are the display object.

The upgrade options change the character of the controller considerably. The base $139 configuration retains the stock DualSense trigger mechanism with adaptive resistance. Adding Omron hair triggers for $20 converts those into short-travel tactile clicks at around 2mm of travel, eliminating progressive resistance entirely in favor of on/off precision. Mechanical face buttons at another $20 swap the rubber membrane pads for microswitches, producing crisp tactile feedback more commonly associated with high-end mechanical keyboards. The GuliKit TMR thumbsticks at $39 use tunnel magnetoresistance sensors instead of traditional potentiometers, which means no contact wear and no drift. Fully specced, the controller lands at $208.

Killscreen assembles and tests every unit in-house in Florida, and the run is genuinely limited, consistent with how every prior drop has gone. The Funtastic Ice Blue/Clear is compatible with PS5 and PC. If the CubeSense and 1080-R are any indication, this one will be gone before most people finish debating whether they need it.

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This $37.5 Clip-On EDC Flashlight Does Something a $200 Olight Still Cannot… Measure Distances

The humble flashlight is older than you probably think. The first handheld electric torch was patented in 1899, and for the better part of 127 years, the core concept barely changed: battery, bulb, switch, done. LED technology gave it a serious brightness upgrade. Rechargeable cells made it more practical. But the fundamental experience of using a flashlight, including that moment of blind faith when you click it on and hope the battery cooperated, stayed remarkably unchanged. Until now, apparently.

GODYGA (pronounced Go-dee-ga) has taken the flashlight’s first real swing at becoming a smart device with the TorchEye X1, a clip-on EDC light that combines a full-color smart display, precise battery management, and a laser distance measurement tool in a package that fits on a jacket lapel. It looks like something a concept designer dreamed up after spending too long staring at luxury dive watches. It also genuinely works.

Designer: GODYGA

Click Here to Buy Now: TorchEye X1 – $39.99 $49.99 ($10 off, use coupon code “YANKOGDX1”) | TorchEye X0 – $30.59 $35.99 ($5.40 off, use coupon code “YANKOGDX0”). Hurry, deal ends in 48-hours!

The laser distance measurement is where the TorchEye X1 separates itself from your average EDC flashlight. It fires a red beam that measures distances up to 20 meters with ±1/8 inch accuracy at 20 readings per second. That’s 20 measurements in a single second. For context, a standard tape measure requires two hands, an extra person ideally, and at least one moment of mild frustration. The TorchEye? You point, you press, and the number appears on the display before you’ve had time to question your life choices. Whether you’re figuring out if that new sectional sofa will actually fit in your living room, hanging a gallery wall without eyeballing it for the fifth time, or sizing up a workspace, this is the kind of tool that quietly earns its place in your pocket. It works best indoors on lighter surfaces, a white wall reads brilliantly, while darker or highly textured surfaces outdoors will give it a harder time, so keep expectations calibrated accordingly. There’s also a front and rear reference point mode, useful depending on whether you want to measure from the tip of the device or the back.

TorchEye X1 laser version

Flashlights have never told you anything. You click one on, it works or it doesn’t, and the only feedback is the slow dimming that tells you the battery gave up three days ago. The TorchEye’s full circular smart screen changes that entirely, displaying exact battery percentage, real-time runtime estimates per brightness mode, and a charging countdown when it’s plugged in. The screen wraps around the front face of the body and it’s genuinely striking to look at, drawing obvious visual inspiration from the dial of a luxury watch. That rotating green bezel isn’t decorative either. It clicks through brightness modes with satisfying haptic feedback, the kind of tactile interaction that makes cheap flashlight buttons feel embarrassing by comparison.

Charging is via USB-C, and you can run it straight from your phone using the included USB-C to USB-C cable. The more interesting detail is what happens when you plug it in. Most high-lumen flashlights require anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes of charging before they’ll unlock turbo mode. The TorchEye hits its full 500 lumens the instant power is connected, zero delay, which is actually meaningful in an emergency rather than just a spec sheet flex. The battery system also lets you run the light while it charges, so a dead battery doesn’t strand you in the dark while you wait.

TorchEye X0 Non-laser version

The design philosophy borrows heavily from luxury watchmaking. The rotating green bezel gives satisfying haptic click feedback as you cycle through light modes, making the whole interaction feel considered and premium rather than plasticky. The front-facing button placement is intentional too. Because the TorchEye is designed primarily to be clipped onto a jacket, backpack strap, or cap brim for hands-free use, putting the controls on the front face means they’re always reachable with a single thumb, no awkward side-button fishing required. It’s one of those small ergonomic decisions that only becomes obvious once you’ve used a light that got it wrong.

Seven brightness modes on the white LED, running from Moonlight all the way up to 500 lumens with a 120-meter throw, cover essentially every situation you’d reach for a pocket light. The red LED adds a low-impact visibility option for night walks, map reading, or any context where torching someone’s retinas with 500 lumens would be socially unacceptable. The built-in 18-hole golf stroke counter lives quietly inside the interface, accessible with a short press to count strokes and a long press to advance holes, with bezel rotation letting you review the front or back nine. If golf means nothing to you, it switches off and disappears entirely.

For carrying options, GODYGA gives you three: the clip for clothing and bags, a magnetic base for sticking it to any metal surface, and a lanyard loop for wrist or bag attachment. And tucked inside the interface, almost as a delightful easter egg, is a built-in 18-hole golf stroke counter. Short press counts strokes, long press advances holes, bezel rotation lets you review front and back nine. Golfers will love it. Everyone else can turn it off and forget it exists.

The TorchEye X1, the version with laser distance measurement, is priced at $39.99 on Amazon. If the distance tool isn’t something you’ll reach for regularly, the TorchEye X0 carries all the same smart screen and lighting features for $30.59. Both are worth every dollar for what they pack in. GODYGA has built something that makes the humble pocket flashlight feel genuinely exciting again, which brings us full circle to that 1899 patent, and the very long time it took for someone to finally do this.

Click Here to Buy Now: TorchEye X1 – $39.99 $49.99 ($10 off, use coupon code “YANKOGDX1”) | TorchEye X0 – $30.59 $35.99 ($5.40 off, use coupon code “YANKOGDX0”). Hurry, deal ends in 48-hours!

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Google Pixel 11 Pro Fold Leaks Early With a Familiar Design and One Noticeable Change

The Google Pixel 11 Pro Fold is shaping up to be exactly the phone you already know, made marginally better in the ways that are easiest to improve. CAD-based renders obtained by Android Headlines in partnership with OnLeaks offer what appears to be the first real look at the device, and they suggest Google’s foldable trajectory for 2026 is exactly what the last two years implied: the formula is set, and the job now is refinement. The front reportedly looks functionally identical to the Pixel 10 Pro Fold, same corner curvature, same hole-punch placement in the top-right of the cover display, same uniform raised bezels that double as protection for the inner screen. From the outside, you could be forgiven for not noticing the difference at all.

Flip it over and you’ll notice one fairly minor design change that differentiates this Fold from its predecessor. The camera island appears to have been reworked so the LED flash and microphone share the upper pill-shaped cutout with one of the rear lenses, rather than sitting awkwardly adjacent to everything else. The result looks like a cleaner, more coherent module, one designed with intent rather than assembled around constraints. Camera bumps are the first thing people actually see on a folded phone sitting on a table, so even a subtle improvement registers. Google reportedly kept the flat backplate, centered logo, and aluminum frame, which means the overall silhouette reads as a modest update rather than a rethink.

Designer: OnLeaks for AndroidHeadline

Based on CAD measurements, the Pixel 11 Pro Fold would drop from 10.8mm to 10.1mm folded, and from 5.2mm to 4.8mm unfolded, while height and unfolded width stay exactly the same at 155.2 x 150.4mm. Several Android foldables are already sitting below 9mm folded, so even if these numbers hold, the Pixel would still have ground to make up against its direct competition. That said, 0.7mm less in your pocket is 0.7mm less, and the projected unfolded profile at 4.8mm would be genuinely slim for a device with this much glass in it. The thinning happens entirely in depth, which means the familiar footprint would stay intact for existing Pixel Fold users considering an upgrade.

The Tensor G6 is expected as the headline spec upgrade, reportedly manufactured by TSMC on a 3nm process and possibly running a 7-core configuration, though that last detail is particularly unverified. The more interesting rumored hardware story is the cameras. The Pixel 10 Pro Fold shipped with a setup that sat below the Pixel 10 Pro in several respects, including an inferior ultrawide, which was a strange position for a $1,799 device. Google is rumored to be course-correcting here, possibly borrowing hardware from the Pixel 10 Pro lineup, though no confirmed specs have surfaced. The pressure is real regardless, given where Samsung and others have pushed foldable camera systems over the last cycle.

Google’s internal roadmap had reportedly targeted $1,500 for the Pixel 11 Pro Fold, but tariffs and rising memory costs have apparently complicated that figure considerably. The Pixel 10 Pro Fold launched at $1,799, and if current market conditions hold, the new model could land at or above that number. The Galaxy Z Fold 7 sits at $1,999 and the new Motorola Razr Fold is at EUR 1,999, so premium foldables have settled into a price tier that treats four figures as a floor. Battery, display sizes, IP68 resistance, Pixelsnap and Qi2 wireless charging are all expected to carry over, meaning there are no obvious additions to justify a steep price increase, just refinements. August 2026 is the rumored launch window, consistent with Google’s last two announcement cycles.

The Pixel 10a reportedly followed the Pixel 9a playbook with minor tweaks, and the Galaxy S26 Ultra’s biggest change was its display. Incremental releases have become the dominant mode across flagship Android, and if these leaks are accurate, the Pixel 11 Pro Fold fits that rhythm without apology. Whether that reads as frustrating or reassuring probably depends on how you felt about the Pixel 10 Pro Fold, because this device looks built squarely for people who wanted that phone to be slightly thinner with a better camera story.

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This Ergonomic Mouse Tracks Your Heart Rate, Telling You To Take A Break Before You Experience Burnout

Imagine if your mouse was also your stress ball. Okay, not exactly, but while a stress ball helps you calm your nerves after a rather cortisol-filled day, the CalmiX mouse helps you keep track of your stress levels by packing a heart rate monitor right inside the mouse. Designed with sensors along the mouse’s ergonomic body, this part-peripheral-part-health-device keeps track of your heart rate, displaying it on a tiny screen on the side.

Would such a device be even remotely useful? Well, designer Julius Münzenmaier notes that 41% of employees worldwide feel some sort of stress. Even in the EU, with their worker-friendly office setups, around 27% of people say they feel some sort of stress while working. That’s where something like the CalmiX comes in. Designed as an entry for the RIMOWA Design Prize, Calmix is an ergonomic mouse that also doubles as a fitness wearable. I use the term wearable extremely loosely here, because you don’t really wear a mouse, but your hands rest on it for such long sessions it might as well just be as good as one.

Designer: Julius Münzenmaier

The CalmiX’s design looks a lot like Logitech’s MX Master 3s, complete with the form factor, buttons on the side, and the scroll wheel just above the thumb-rest. The two notable differences are that this one lacks a main scroll wheel, replacing it with a haptic scroll surface on the top, and packs a tiny display on the side, right beside the lateral wheel. Equipped with high-precision sensors and a low-energy processor crunching data from said sensors, the CalmiX tries to be a productivity device that also keeps you in the loop regarding your stress levels at work.

The mouse lets you know your heart rate in real-time, allowing you to sense spikes in tension or stress while work. While the mouse won’t do anything to calm you down, it does let you know when to step back and maybe take a break from work. Stress is a silent killer and there’s really no shortage of it at work, what with AI taking over and layoffs just being the new norm. If you’re going to spend 10 hours in front of a screen, CalmiX makes sure that most of those hours aren’t spent in pangs of anxiety.

It wouldn’t really be a smart device without an app to go with it. There’s a CalmiX app envisioned to work alongside the mouse, capturing historical data on your heart rate throughout the day, presenting it on a dashboard for you to look at how your body reacts to stress. You can use the dashboard to “Track real-time stress, spot daily patterns, get personalized micro-breaks and breathing exercises, receive smart pause reminders, and view summary reports to optimize your workflow,” Julius mentions.

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Microsoft Broke the Only Thing That Actually Mattered

Any tech nerd knows the unspoken contract that comes with being the only tech-literate person in the family. You get texts when someone’s laptop is slow, called over during the holidays to fix the router, and consulted every eighteen months when someone needs a new phone or computer. For years, the laptop question had a clean, confident answer: a Windows machine. Cheap entry points, massive software compatibility, games that actually run, no walled gardens, no ecosystem hostage situations, and enough flexibility that even a non-technical person could figure out the basics without feeling like they’d violated a terms of service agreement. But the last time someone asked me what laptop to get, I paused. For a good minute I asked myself, should I even recommend Windows anymore?

That pause is new, and it carries weight that no benchmark score or spec sheet can explain. The designated family tech person has historically been one of the most reliable organic distribution channels Windows ever had, recommending the same platform generation after generation because it worked, it was accessible, and there was nothing obviously better for normal people at a reasonable price. When that person hesitates, the platform has a problem. Microsoft built an empire on being the obvious, low-friction answer to the laptop question, and somewhere between Windows 10 and the Copilot era, they stopped protecting that position. And with Apple dropping a $599 MacBook just last week, that position seems even more in danger.

2024 CrowdStrike Outage

The OS that holds civilization together

Windows runs somewhere between 72 and 73 percent of the world’s desktops, and while that’s an impressive monopoly, it completely ignores the critical systems where Windows is actually even more prevalent and essential. Hospital admission systems, ATM networks, military command infrastructure, government offices, court systems, school networks, and banking operations across virtually every country on earth run on Windows. These institutions did not choose Windows out of preference; they are locked in through decades of infrastructure investment, software dependencies, and training costs that make switching systemically impractical at scale. The July 2024 CrowdStrike incident put a specific number on what this dependency looks like under pressure: one faulty content update to a single Windows security tool simultaneously bricked approximately 8.5 million machines, grounded over 8,500 flights globally, knocked hospital systems offline across multiple countries, and disabled 911 call centers across several US states. One third-party software layer, one bad update, and the operational skeleton of modern civic life visibly buckled.

That is the platform Microsoft has been treating as a vehicle for AI feature experiments. Recall, the AI tool Microsoft attempted to ship as part of Windows 11, worked by screenshotting the user’s screen every few seconds and storing those images locally to build a searchable timeline of everything they had ever done on the machine. Security researchers flagged it almost immediately as a catastrophic privacy liability: a permanent, silent, queryable record of every document, message, and webpage the screen had ever displayed. Microsoft paused the rollout after a fierce public backlash, but the revealing fact is that Recall cleared internal review in the first place. The teams approving that feature were not thinking about hospital clerks processing patient records, lawyers working with privileged communications, or government employees handling sensitive data. They were building a keynote demo.

The market is responding accordingly

Microsoft ended official Windows 10 support in October 2025, cutting off security patches for what was still the most widely used version of the OS. Months of upgrade campaigns, notification banners, and every available form of institutional pressure followed. The result: as of December 2025, Windows 10 sits at 44.68% market share and actually gained users after support ended, while Windows 11 dropped from 55.18% in October to 50.73% in December, shedding over four percentage points in two months while the officially dead OS clawed back ground. People are choosing to run a security-vulnerable, unsupported operating system rather than upgrade to the one Microsoft actively maintains, and that is not technophobia or inertia. It is a calculated judgment, made by millions of users independently, that the known risks of the old version beat the unknown risks of moving to the new one.

The TPM 2.0 hardware requirement blocked installation on millions of perfectly functional machines with no meaningful performance justification for everyday users, which meant the upgrade conversation started with resentment before it ever got to features. First-boot setup funnels new users toward a Microsoft account, with the offline bypass buried past the point where most non-technical people will ever find it. OneDrive integration sits deep enough in the OS that users regularly discover their Desktop files have been syncing to the cloud without understanding when or how they agreed to that. A fresh Windows 11 install in 2026 ships with TikTok, Instagram, Disney+, and a collection of Microsoft’s own unfinished apps pre-pinned to the Start menu, none of them arriving with any user consent. Copilot, which no consumer demand survey had identified as a priority, now appears in the OS sidebar, the taskbar, and since 2024, as a dedicated hardware key on new laptops, occupying real estate where a key with actual utility used to live.

Running alongside all of that is a separate update quality crisis that has been building its own track record. A January 2026 security update caused boot failures on certain Windows 11 machines, with Microsoft eventually tracing the issue to a botched December 2025 update that had left affected devices in what they diplomatically described as an “improper state.” An October 2025 security update broke VPN networking for enterprise users running OpenVPN and Cisco Secure Client, a bug that carried through the December patch cycle without a clean resolution. Security updates, the category Microsoft explicitly tells users they cannot afford to skip, became a threat to system stability in their own right. When the patch and the problem are indistinguishable from each other, the trust issue has moved well past inconvenience.

A modified version of a comic by Manu Cornet

Nadella is a great CEO. Just not for desktop operating systems.

Satya Nadella took Microsoft’s stock from roughly $35 in 2014 to over $400 at its peak, killed the Nokia disaster before it could fully metastasize, repositioned the entire company around cloud infrastructure, and placed an early bet on OpenAI when AI was still considered expensive academic theater. Azure’s consistent 30%-plus year-over-year growth commands complete executive attention and pulls the best engineering talent in the building toward it like gravity. By any honest standard corporate metric, Nadella’s Microsoft is a legitimate turnaround story, and the shareholder returns are not fabricated. But Nadella is a cloud and enterprise person at his core, and consumer Windows is a mature product in a saturated market, which in corporate strategy language translates cleanly to “managed asset.” The product that generates excitement gets the architects and the product visionaries; the one that just needs to keep working gets whoever is left after that allocation is done.

Paul Thurrott, who has covered Microsoft longer than most of the current Windows team has worked there, documented what that organizational reality looks like in practice. He wrote that Microsoft “relegated Windows to a backwater world led by B-teamers as the brightest minds at the company moved onto more lucrative career opportunities in Azure and AI.” That is an organizational autopsy, not editorial frustration, and it explains the product trajectory better than any feature changelog can. The talent followed the money and the excitement, and what remained shipped a redesigned Start menu nobody requested, a Copilot key nobody asked for, and a feature that the security community identified as dangerous within hours of its public announcement. The B-team does not ship bad decisions out of malice; they ship them because nobody senior enough to stop them is paying attention.

This pattern has a name

Nadella did not invent this behavioral tendency; it recurs reliably enough across modern tech to qualify as its own CEO archetype. Elon Musk built Tesla into the most culturally significant car company on earth, then spent the better part of two years fixated on Twitter, rebranding it to X, eliminating roughly 80% of staff, and torching advertiser relationships that took years to build, while Tesla’s stock dropped roughly 40% in the first quarter of 2025 alone. Now, he’s discontinued two Tesla models permanently while focusing efforts on an extremely polarizing AI chatbot. Mark Zuckerberg committed somewhere between $40 and $50 billion to the metaverse between 2021 and 2023, a virtual world that peaked at approximately 300,000 daily active users on Meta Horizon Worlds, before quietly pivoting to AI and becoming a public figure most associated with jiu-jitsu tournaments. The pattern is consistent enough to have a shape: a CEO builds something genuinely dominant, gets pulled toward the next big technological narrative, and hands the original product to the maintenance crew while energy and capital chase the new story. The difference with Nadella is the scale of what he handed off.

What separates his case from Musk and Zuckerberg is that he did not get distracted from Windows. He consciously stripped it for parts. Azure and AI received the budget, the senior talent pipeline, and the executive attention. Windows received the downstream output of that redistribution: mandatory AI integrations nobody requested, hardware specifications designed around Microsoft’s AI keynote roadmap rather than user needs, and a product direction driven more by investor narrative than by any user research that has ever been made public. The ordinary people buying $400 laptops are absorbing the cost of that sacrifice. The shareholders benefiting from Azure’s quarterly growth numbers are not.

Enshittification, documented

Cory Doctorow’s enshittification framework describes a platform lifecycle: start good for users, degrade toward serving business partners, then degrade further to extract maximum value for shareholders at everyone else’s expense. Windows 11 maps cleanly onto the third stage. The Start menu was rebuilt from scratch for the Windows 11 launch, stripping out Live Tiles that users had configured over years and replacing them with a static grid that is less functional and harder to customize, with no usability gain justifying the regression. Drag-and-drop onto taskbar applications was removed entirely at launch and only partially restored after months of sustained community pressure. Windows 11 originally shipped without the ability to right-click the taskbar to open Task Manager, a function that had existed since Windows NT 4.0 in 1996, and whose removal was not a redesign decision so much as evidence that nobody tested the product against the habits of actual users.

Control Panel, introduced in 1985, and the modern Settings app, first introduced in 2012 with Windows 8, still coexist in parallel inside Windows 11 in 2026. Basic system configuration requires jumping between both because neither is complete on its own, and the logic governing which settings live in which interface has never been consistently explained or resolved. Thirteen years of two competing tools sharing the same OS, and Microsoft never cared enough about the end-user experience to finish the job. This is not a legacy oversight or a technical debt problem that nobody knows how to solve. It is a choice, visible in its incompleteness, that reveals how little Windows product ownership has mattered to anyone with the authority to demand better.

Where this leaves ordinary people

Windows remains the most practical OS for most consumers, and that matters because it means there is no clean exit for the people being failed by it. MacOS is polished and stable but paternalistic by design: Apple creates deliberate friction around installing software from outside its ecosystem, the interface carries a genuine learning curve for anyone transitioning from Windows, and a MacBook Air M4 starts at $1,099 against a capable Windows laptop at around $400. Sure you can buy the $599 MacBook Neo too, but it’s genuinely less of a laptop and more of a netbook. The price difference between a regular MacBook and a similarly spec’d Windows laptop is not marginal in most of the world, particularly in the markets where Windows adoption is highest. Linux is genuinely improving year over year and deserves acknowledgment for it, but recommending Ubuntu to a non-technical family member invites more trouble than relief. The alternatives exist, but they serve a different user than the one who has to ask for a laptop recommendation.

A regular person can still buy an affordable Windows machine, install whatever software they want, run games across a hardware range that nothing else matches, plug in any peripheral without a compatibility interrogation, and operate without being treated as a security risk for opening a file from outside a curated store. Microsoft is eroding that value proposition methodically, one forced integration at a time, but the erosion has not yet reached full collapse. As of early 2026, reporting suggests Microsoft is pulling back from the AI-everywhere approach in Windows and refocusing on core stability, with Paul Thurrott describing the shift as “something happened,” which from a journalist who has spent years documenting Windows’ decline with the exhausted precision of someone watching a building settle incorrectly reads as cautious acknowledgment rather than optimism. Whether that represents genuine reprioritization or noise management ahead of a Windows 12 announcement nobody has officially confirmed is the question worth watching.

Rebuilding trust after Recall, after a year of destabilizing updates, after years of treating the world’s most consequential operating system as a demo environment for products the market never asked for, takes considerably longer than a few stable patches and a tonal reset in engineering blog posts. The millions of people still on Windows 10, knowingly running an unsupported OS past its expiration date, made a rational call: the known risks of yesterday’s software beat the unpredictable risks of an OS whose roadmap is driven by whatever Microsoft needs to show investors next quarter. That is not the normal frustration cycle where users grumble and eventually upgrade. It is a trust deficit built through years of consistent bad decisions, and a few good patch cycles will not close it. The easiest tech recommendation in the world has become a pause, and the people responsible for that pause are too deep in Azure dashboards to understand what it actually costs.

The post Microsoft Broke the Only Thing That Actually Mattered first appeared on Yanko Design.

Microsoft Broke the Only Thing That Actually Mattered

Any tech nerd knows the unspoken contract that comes with being the only tech-literate person in the family. You get texts when someone’s laptop is slow, called over during the holidays to fix the router, and consulted every eighteen months when someone needs a new phone or computer. For years, the laptop question had a clean, confident answer: a Windows machine. Cheap entry points, massive software compatibility, games that actually run, no walled gardens, no ecosystem hostage situations, and enough flexibility that even a non-technical person could figure out the basics without feeling like they’d violated a terms of service agreement. But the last time someone asked me what laptop to get, I paused. For a good minute I asked myself, should I even recommend Windows anymore?

That pause is new, and it carries weight that no benchmark score or spec sheet can explain. The designated family tech person has historically been one of the most reliable organic distribution channels Windows ever had, recommending the same platform generation after generation because it worked, it was accessible, and there was nothing obviously better for normal people at a reasonable price. When that person hesitates, the platform has a problem. Microsoft built an empire on being the obvious, low-friction answer to the laptop question, and somewhere between Windows 10 and the Copilot era, they stopped protecting that position. And with Apple dropping a $599 MacBook just last week, that position seems even more in danger.

2024 CrowdStrike Outage

The OS that holds civilization together

Windows runs somewhere between 72 and 73 percent of the world’s desktops, and while that’s an impressive monopoly, it completely ignores the critical systems where Windows is actually even more prevalent and essential. Hospital admission systems, ATM networks, military command infrastructure, government offices, court systems, school networks, and banking operations across virtually every country on earth run on Windows. These institutions did not choose Windows out of preference; they are locked in through decades of infrastructure investment, software dependencies, and training costs that make switching systemically impractical at scale. The July 2024 CrowdStrike incident put a specific number on what this dependency looks like under pressure: one faulty content update to a single Windows security tool simultaneously bricked approximately 8.5 million machines, grounded over 8,500 flights globally, knocked hospital systems offline across multiple countries, and disabled 911 call centers across several US states. One third-party software layer, one bad update, and the operational skeleton of modern civic life visibly buckled.

That is the platform Microsoft has been treating as a vehicle for AI feature experiments. Recall, the AI tool Microsoft attempted to ship as part of Windows 11, worked by screenshotting the user’s screen every few seconds and storing those images locally to build a searchable timeline of everything they had ever done on the machine. Security researchers flagged it almost immediately as a catastrophic privacy liability: a permanent, silent, queryable record of every document, message, and webpage the screen had ever displayed. Microsoft paused the rollout after a fierce public backlash, but the revealing fact is that Recall cleared internal review in the first place. The teams approving that feature were not thinking about hospital clerks processing patient records, lawyers working with privileged communications, or government employees handling sensitive data. They were building a keynote demo.

The market is responding accordingly

Microsoft ended official Windows 10 support in October 2025, cutting off security patches for what was still the most widely used version of the OS. Months of upgrade campaigns, notification banners, and every available form of institutional pressure followed. The result: as of December 2025, Windows 10 sits at 44.68% market share and actually gained users after support ended, while Windows 11 dropped from 55.18% in October to 50.73% in December, shedding over four percentage points in two months while the officially dead OS clawed back ground. People are choosing to run a security-vulnerable, unsupported operating system rather than upgrade to the one Microsoft actively maintains, and that is not technophobia or inertia. It is a calculated judgment, made by millions of users independently, that the known risks of the old version beat the unknown risks of moving to the new one.

The TPM 2.0 hardware requirement blocked installation on millions of perfectly functional machines with no meaningful performance justification for everyday users, which meant the upgrade conversation started with resentment before it ever got to features. First-boot setup funnels new users toward a Microsoft account, with the offline bypass buried past the point where most non-technical people will ever find it. OneDrive integration sits deep enough in the OS that users regularly discover their Desktop files have been syncing to the cloud without understanding when or how they agreed to that. A fresh Windows 11 install in 2026 ships with TikTok, Instagram, Disney+, and a collection of Microsoft’s own unfinished apps pre-pinned to the Start menu, none of them arriving with any user consent. Copilot, which no consumer demand survey had identified as a priority, now appears in the OS sidebar, the taskbar, and since 2024, as a dedicated hardware key on new laptops, occupying real estate where a key with actual utility used to live.

Running alongside all of that is a separate update quality crisis that has been building its own track record. A January 2026 security update caused boot failures on certain Windows 11 machines, with Microsoft eventually tracing the issue to a botched December 2025 update that had left affected devices in what they diplomatically described as an “improper state.” An October 2025 security update broke VPN networking for enterprise users running OpenVPN and Cisco Secure Client, a bug that carried through the December patch cycle without a clean resolution. Security updates, the category Microsoft explicitly tells users they cannot afford to skip, became a threat to system stability in their own right. When the patch and the problem are indistinguishable from each other, the trust issue has moved well past inconvenience.

A modified version of a comic by Manu Cornet

Nadella is a great CEO. Just not for desktop operating systems.

Satya Nadella took Microsoft’s stock from roughly $35 in 2014 to over $400 at its peak, killed the Nokia disaster before it could fully metastasize, repositioned the entire company around cloud infrastructure, and placed an early bet on OpenAI when AI was still considered expensive academic theater. Azure’s consistent 30%-plus year-over-year growth commands complete executive attention and pulls the best engineering talent in the building toward it like gravity. By any honest standard corporate metric, Nadella’s Microsoft is a legitimate turnaround story, and the shareholder returns are not fabricated. But Nadella is a cloud and enterprise person at his core, and consumer Windows is a mature product in a saturated market, which in corporate strategy language translates cleanly to “managed asset.” The product that generates excitement gets the architects and the product visionaries; the one that just needs to keep working gets whoever is left after that allocation is done.

Paul Thurrott, who has covered Microsoft longer than most of the current Windows team has worked there, documented what that organizational reality looks like in practice. He wrote that Microsoft “relegated Windows to a backwater world led by B-teamers as the brightest minds at the company moved onto more lucrative career opportunities in Azure and AI.” That is an organizational autopsy, not editorial frustration, and it explains the product trajectory better than any feature changelog can. The talent followed the money and the excitement, and what remained shipped a redesigned Start menu nobody requested, a Copilot key nobody asked for, and a feature that the security community identified as dangerous within hours of its public announcement. The B-team does not ship bad decisions out of malice; they ship them because nobody senior enough to stop them is paying attention.

This pattern has a name

Nadella did not invent this behavioral tendency; it recurs reliably enough across modern tech to qualify as its own CEO archetype. Elon Musk built Tesla into the most culturally significant car company on earth, then spent the better part of two years fixated on Twitter, rebranding it to X, eliminating roughly 80% of staff, and torching advertiser relationships that took years to build, while Tesla’s stock dropped roughly 40% in the first quarter of 2025 alone. Now, he’s discontinued two Tesla models permanently while focusing efforts on an extremely polarizing AI chatbot. Mark Zuckerberg committed somewhere between $40 and $50 billion to the metaverse between 2021 and 2023, a virtual world that peaked at approximately 300,000 daily active users on Meta Horizon Worlds, before quietly pivoting to AI and becoming a public figure most associated with jiu-jitsu tournaments. The pattern is consistent enough to have a shape: a CEO builds something genuinely dominant, gets pulled toward the next big technological narrative, and hands the original product to the maintenance crew while energy and capital chase the new story. The difference with Nadella is the scale of what he handed off.

What separates his case from Musk and Zuckerberg is that he did not get distracted from Windows. He consciously stripped it for parts. Azure and AI received the budget, the senior talent pipeline, and the executive attention. Windows received the downstream output of that redistribution: mandatory AI integrations nobody requested, hardware specifications designed around Microsoft’s AI keynote roadmap rather than user needs, and a product direction driven more by investor narrative than by any user research that has ever been made public. The ordinary people buying $400 laptops are absorbing the cost of that sacrifice. The shareholders benefiting from Azure’s quarterly growth numbers are not.

Enshittification, documented

Cory Doctorow’s enshittification framework describes a platform lifecycle: start good for users, degrade toward serving business partners, then degrade further to extract maximum value for shareholders at everyone else’s expense. Windows 11 maps cleanly onto the third stage. The Start menu was rebuilt from scratch for the Windows 11 launch, stripping out Live Tiles that users had configured over years and replacing them with a static grid that is less functional and harder to customize, with no usability gain justifying the regression. Drag-and-drop onto taskbar applications was removed entirely at launch and only partially restored after months of sustained community pressure. Windows 11 originally shipped without the ability to right-click the taskbar to open Task Manager, a function that had existed since Windows NT 4.0 in 1996, and whose removal was not a redesign decision so much as evidence that nobody tested the product against the habits of actual users.

Control Panel, introduced in 1985, and the modern Settings app, first introduced in 2012 with Windows 8, still coexist in parallel inside Windows 11 in 2026. Basic system configuration requires jumping between both because neither is complete on its own, and the logic governing which settings live in which interface has never been consistently explained or resolved. Thirteen years of two competing tools sharing the same OS, and Microsoft never cared enough about the end-user experience to finish the job. This is not a legacy oversight or a technical debt problem that nobody knows how to solve. It is a choice, visible in its incompleteness, that reveals how little Windows product ownership has mattered to anyone with the authority to demand better.

Where this leaves ordinary people

Windows remains the most practical OS for most consumers, and that matters because it means there is no clean exit for the people being failed by it. MacOS is polished and stable but paternalistic by design: Apple creates deliberate friction around installing software from outside its ecosystem, the interface carries a genuine learning curve for anyone transitioning from Windows, and a MacBook Air M4 starts at $1,099 against a capable Windows laptop at around $400. Sure you can buy the $599 MacBook Neo too, but it’s genuinely less of a laptop and more of a netbook. The price difference between a regular MacBook and a similarly spec’d Windows laptop is not marginal in most of the world, particularly in the markets where Windows adoption is highest. Linux is genuinely improving year over year and deserves acknowledgment for it, but recommending Ubuntu to a non-technical family member invites more trouble than relief. The alternatives exist, but they serve a different user than the one who has to ask for a laptop recommendation.

A regular person can still buy an affordable Windows machine, install whatever software they want, run games across a hardware range that nothing else matches, plug in any peripheral without a compatibility interrogation, and operate without being treated as a security risk for opening a file from outside a curated store. Microsoft is eroding that value proposition methodically, one forced integration at a time, but the erosion has not yet reached full collapse. As of early 2026, reporting suggests Microsoft is pulling back from the AI-everywhere approach in Windows and refocusing on core stability, with Paul Thurrott describing the shift as “something happened,” which from a journalist who has spent years documenting Windows’ decline with the exhausted precision of someone watching a building settle incorrectly reads as cautious acknowledgment rather than optimism. Whether that represents genuine reprioritization or noise management ahead of a Windows 12 announcement nobody has officially confirmed is the question worth watching.

Rebuilding trust after Recall, after a year of destabilizing updates, after years of treating the world’s most consequential operating system as a demo environment for products the market never asked for, takes considerably longer than a few stable patches and a tonal reset in engineering blog posts. The millions of people still on Windows 10, knowingly running an unsupported OS past its expiration date, made a rational call: the known risks of yesterday’s software beat the unpredictable risks of an OS whose roadmap is driven by whatever Microsoft needs to show investors next quarter. That is not the normal frustration cycle where users grumble and eventually upgrade. It is a trust deficit built through years of consistent bad decisions, and a few good patch cycles will not close it. The easiest tech recommendation in the world has become a pause, and the people responsible for that pause are too deep in Azure dashboards to understand what it actually costs.

The post Microsoft Broke the Only Thing That Actually Mattered first appeared on Yanko Design.

Alpine’s Wildest F1 Concept Car Concept Uses a Magnetic Levitation Cockpit to Protect Its Driver

If Alpine’s 2026 season is about consolidation, about switching to Mercedes power units and clawing back from last place in the Constructors’ Championship, then HakHyeon Lee’s Alpine Horizon concept is the opposite impulse entirely. This is a designer throwing Alpine’s arrow logo onto a closed-cockpit hypercar with a magnetically levitating driver pod, wire-tethered to a chassis that borrows its DNA from Le Mans prototypes rather than anything on the F1 grid. Pierre Gasly and Franco Colapinto are busy trying to drag the real Alpine up the standings, but Lee’s concept lives in a universe where the brand already won everything and started experimenting with physics.

Alpine confirmed in February that it will withdraw from the World Endurance Championship’s Hypercar class after this season, ending a program that includes the A424’s maiden victory at Fuji in 2025. The historic Viry-Chatillon facility, home to Renault’s F1 engines for nearly 50 years, faces an uncertain future now that both the power unit program and the WEC effort are winding down. Lee’s Horizon arrives against that backdrop, a vision of Alpine as an endurance powerhouse while the real endurance team prepares for its final campaign with Charles Milesi, Ferdinand Habsburg, and Antonio Felix da Costa carrying the flag one last time.

Designer: HakHyeon Lee

The centerpiece of the Horizon is its magnetic levitation cockpit, and the idea is genuinely ambitious. Lee proposes using electromagnetic repulsion between rails on the chassis frame and magnetic devices in the cockpit pod to physically lift the driver compartment off the car’s body. The claimed benefit is a ride that absorbs sudden acceleration forces and jump sections in ways conventional suspension cannot, essentially decoupling the driver’s experience from the violence at the contact patches below. High-strength wire tethers prevent the cockpit from separating entirely, acting as a mechanical leash for what is otherwise a floating capsule.

From a safety perspective, the Horizon’s fully enclosed cockpit speaks to a debate that has followed Formula 1 since the Halo became mandatory in 2018. The FIA tested closed canopy designs before settling on the titanium Halo, and their reasoning came down to driver extraction: a closed cockpit with more structural complexity could trap a driver in a burning car. Romain Grosjean’s fiery 2020 Bahrain crash validated that thinking, with the Frenchman escaping largely unassisted while the Halo deflected the barrier from his head. But Lee’s Horizon sidesteps this entirely because closed cockpits are already standard in endurance racing, where LMDh and LMH cars run enclosed driver cells as a matter of course.

And that’s the critical distinction here. The Horizon shares almost nothing with a modern F1 car. Current F1 machines are narrow, open-wheeled, open-cockpit designs with exposed suspension and aggressive front wings dictated by FIA regulations. The Horizon sits low and wide with massive wheel arches that swallow the tires, a long rear overhang housing a substantial diffuser, and a front splitter that could double as a snowplow. Its silhouette reads as a Toyota GR010 or Porsche 963 cousin, filtered through Lee’s smooth, organic surfacing language where the canopy melts into the car’s spine without a single harsh panel gap.

Inside the cockpit, Lee imagines gimbal-mounted seats designed for what he calls “weightless racing,” working in concert with the floating pod to keep the driver’s body stable under extreme forces. It is a layered isolation system: the cockpit floats on magnets, the seat pivots on gimbals within it, and the driver theoretically experiences something closer to stillness while the car battles the track surface below. Batteries housed in the chassis power the entire magnetic levitation system, and cutaway views show them positioned low for center-of-gravity optimization.

Alpine’s real motorsport situation makes a concept like this hit differently. The F1 team finished dead last in the 2025 Constructors’ Championship, and Flavio Briatore’s stated ambition for 2026 is a modest climb to P6 on Mercedes customer power. The WEC team is running its farewell season before the Hypercar program shuts down permanently, with the Viry-Chatillon workforce of 300-plus employees facing reassignment or redundancy. Lee’s Horizon exists in none of that reality, and the gap between aspiration and circumstance is exactly what makes automotive concept design so compelling.

The post Alpine’s Wildest F1 Concept Car Concept Uses a Magnetic Levitation Cockpit to Protect Its Driver first appeared on Yanko Design.

This Custom BMW R 1300 R Superhooligan Pays Tribute To 50 Years Since Its First Daytona Victory

Fifty years ago this month, a team of engineers and riders rolled three air-cooled German boxer twins into Daytona’s paddock and lined them up against a field of screaming Japanese inline-fours that everyone assumed would bury them. Butler & Smith, BMW’s US importer at the time, had hired an aerospace engineer named Udo Gietl to prepare the R 90 S race bikes, a man who had previously worked for NASA and on Polaris submarines before turning his attention to motorcycle tuning. Gietl shortened the boxer’s horizontal cylinders to buy lean angle clearance, fitted titanium connecting rods, and replaced the stock twin rear shocks with a custom Koni monoshock adapted from a Formula 1 car.

What the bikes lacked in horsepower against the Kawasakis and Ducatis, they more than recovered in stability and handling. On March 6, 1976, Butler & Smith rider Steve McLaughlin crossed the line first in the inaugural AMA Superbike Championship Series race, with teammate Reg Pridmore a photo finish behind him. A third Butler & Smith bike, ridden by Gary Fisher, had led for several laps before a gearbox failure ended what would have been a storybook 1-2-3 sweep. BMW won that race, Pridmore won the championship at season’s end, and the Teutonic touring machine that Cycle World had nicknamed a “stone axe” had beaten the field at its own game.

Designer: BMW Motorrad

BMW Motorrad has now built the R 1300 R Superhooligan to mark that half-century anniversary, and if there is a more appropriate way to honor a chapter of racing history, it is hard to imagine what it would be. The one-off custom was assembled by a small internal team from the BMW Motorrad Custom Speed Shop, including designer Andreas Martin and color designer Theresa Stukenbrock, working from a stock R 1300 R as the foundation. The orange over carbon livery on the finished bike is an unmistakable nod to McLaughlin’s #83 R 90 S, with the race number itself relocated to a front number board mounted in place of a headlamp, a detail that communicates the build’s intent without any ambiguity.

The Ilmberger carbon bodywork wraps the boxer’s cylinders so completely that the motor reads almost like a monoblock, dissolving the traditional visual separation between engine and frame that defines most naked bikes. Blue-anodized fork legs on the extended Wilbers USD front end and matching blue frame rails on the aluminum rear subframe pull the accent color directly from McLaughlin’s 1976 livery, with additional blue brake calipers sourced from the BMW M 1000 RR superbike reinforcing the connection across the front axle.

The R 1300 R is already a serious machine in standard form, producing 145 hp and 110 lb-ft of torque from its 1,300 cc twin-cylinder boxer, but the Superhooligan’s performance upgrades go further than cosmetics. The Wilbers fork has been lengthened by 30 mm to increase lean angle clearance, a modification that directly echoes the cylinder-shortening work Gietl did to the original R 90 S for the same purpose. The M 1000 RR carbon front wheel improves steering response and reduces unsprung weight, while the Akrapovic titanium exhaust system with its carbon end silencer saves mass at the rear and adds the kind of mechanical bark that a build like this demands. CNC footpegs and fully adjustable Advik levers complete the track-ready ergonomic package. With all of it together, BMW rates the Superhooligan at 171 mph. There is no headlamp, which makes it ineligible for road registration, and while that is a minor tragedy, the bike was always going to the track rather than the street.

McLaughlin’s legacy extends well beyond that single Daytona photo finish. As the AMA’s riders’ representative through the early 1970s, he was the primary force behind getting Superbike racing elevated to national championship status in the United States, working alongside promoters and publishers to build the infrastructure that made the 1976 series possible. He later became the central figure in creating the World Superbike Championship, which launched in 1988 and remains one of motorcycle racing’s premier international series today. The AMA inducted him into its Hall of Fame, noting that without McLaughlin’s organizational work, the racing landscape the Superhooligan now celebrates might not have existed at all.

BMW Motorrad brand ambassador Nate Kern is racing the Superhooligan in round one of the Mission Foods Super Hooligan National Championship at Daytona this year, putting a competition-spec descendant of McLaughlin’s race-winning machine back on the same circuit where it all started. During the Daytona 200 weekend, the Superhooligan was displayed in the paddock alongside the original 1976 Butler & Smith R 90 S race bikes, with McLaughlin, Pridmore, Gietl, and Fisher’s daughters Heidi and Kimberly all present for the occasion. Few anniversaries in motorsport get marked with this much honesty.

The post This Custom BMW R 1300 R Superhooligan Pays Tribute To 50 Years Since Its First Daytona Victory first appeared on Yanko Design.