The Open Road
I got your "zoom zoom" right here, baby.Ah, joy. There's really nothing quite like the rush of an empty stretch of curvy turnpike, a full tank of gas and not fighting the delicious urge to push that pedal floor-ward and sweet-talk your ride into burning some hot asphalt.
Superfly won't be pleased to hear it, but his little-old-lady-car responded enthusiastically when I revved her horses and asked her nicely if she wouldn't mind terribly if I rocketed down the highway for a hot minute. We both had a mighty fine time of it and no harm, no foul.
I love cars, I love driving and I love driving cars really fast. In an interview with a Formula One racer back in the early '90s, I picked up some exceptionally valuable tips on driving fast in any car, in any kind of traffic or road condition. Just this week I interviewed a racing instructor for Corvette. He invited me to the next sold-out course in Bowling Green, Ky. All together now: "HELL YES!"
Hours later I'm still flush with the restorative power of an adrenalized 90 mph burst of speed and muscle at the wheel of my Superfly boyfriend's middle-aged Nissan Sentra. She is a distance driver, never letting us down when we trek up-and-down the eastern seaboard, but her 150 hp is rarely tested by Mr. Cruise Control at 60 mph.
C'mon now, even the primest and sturdiest of girls needs to cut loose once in awhile!
People, treat your cars with respect. Change the oil and take it for scheduled maintenance. Keep it clean, inside and out. Don't drink and drive. And for the love of MOPAR holiness, take that baby out on the open road once in awhile and cut her loose!
posted by Trouble @ 1:33 PM
2 Comments:
It did SO go past 90. And she rocked that bitch, too.
As for the hp of your car, I must have looked up the wrong year. Why you gotta be all uppity?
LOL...all I know is that my last car, a '97 Audi A4 Quattro, managed to hit 145 of its 160mph speedometer when I first got her and track-tested her. But I've been known -- fortunately or otherwise -- to experience the "wow, how fast was I actually going, officer" phenomenon every now and again. On a road trip in a Mercedes convertible, I somehow managed, in very loose traffic on I-95 (in broad daylight), to hit 90mph as I careened over a hill, only to see Joey Bag O'Donuts facing me on the other side about a half-mile away. He must have been sleeping or taken with the sheer brazen globes I'd displayed, because he didn't move, but I learned my lesson -- follow the red vette whilst exceeding the speedlimit by 35 or more mph :)
I miss racing on a semi-regular basis; the owner of the track on which I used to race upped and moved to Delray, so the only chance I'll ever get to get behind the wheel of a McLaren F1 is to fly first with two wings; the four-wheel variety of flying will have to wait :)
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