Cars Are Women

Entry posted by caldrail March 22, 2009

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I've decided cars are female. They just are. most are frumps unfortunately. Some are reliable, others not. Some have interesting personalities, many simply don't talk to you or keep on nagging because you left the bootlid up.

Then there's cars like Ferrari. Curvaceous redheads with tight leather, vivacious, demanding. You just know she's going to be trouble but you can't help yourself.

I say this because going through some old papers I discovered my report from a racing school where I drove F355's at Thruxton circuit. Now that takes me back. It was the first time I'd driven a real Ferrari. I was expecting it to be a real beast, twice the power of anything I'd driven previously, and my brain was telling me to take care.

You might not be suprised, but the tasty redhead won my heart in the first ten seconds. She beguiled me with all her italian charms. She was doing strange things to my anatomy, but luckily the lady owner who instructed us plebs in the driving of cars that cost more than my home had seen it all before.

You see, german cars are a bit cold. Very good, but like female scientists with whips. "You vill take zat bend faster Caldrail *crack*". You come to a bend and you wonder 'Can I go round it a little quicker?'. To your delight, you can. Then the same thing happens again, up until the point you realise you really have exceeded what the laws of physics allow. Ooops... Close your eyes Caldrail...

But Ferrari? She snorts in disdain at your sensible driving and starts stroking your ego. "Go on Caldrail-a, I want-a to see you drive-a!". The woman was insatiable. And I didn't mind in the slightest. As it turned out, she was a pussy cat. She handled almost the same as my long-serving Toyota MR2 (albeit considerably faster). There was that momentthe instructor told me to go for it, to drive a hot lap. I floored the accelerator and the car went light, lifting on its wheels and sudden;y this well mannered and sophisticated lady was lap dancing in front of me in a wild frenzy... *dribble*

That was a fun day. Thing was though, I went back to work the following day and a workmate approached me. "So you need to take a day off to get a haircut do you?" He asked me with obvious contempt.

"No." I answered, "I take a day off to go flying in the morning and drive Ferrari's on a race track in the afternoon".

"Oh." He said, "Your day was better than mine."

Yep.

Conundrum of the Week

Ferrari's are red, fast, powerful icons of motoring. Symbols of excess, tempting you to break speed limits, behave like arrogant playboys, and earn more money than you could possibly spend. Cars that evoke passion, cars that make you choose between them and your partner, cars that change you from ordinary caring sharing Joe Bloggs to greedy, demanding, sexually jaded Schumacher Junior.

So why did the Pope bless Ferrari?