My Night with an Exotic Part 1

Let me begin this article with one undeniable fact: The Internet makes the world a small place.

We’ve all heard stories and first person accounts from journalists and people from a variety of professions about their experiences in the latest wave of supercars. It may range from a Zonda, to a Ferrari, to a Lamborghini.

But what happens when a normal, average guy gets behind the wheel of one of these supercars?

What happens when a dream becomes a reality?

That was my experience only a few weeks ago. My friend allowed me the use of his Ferrari 360 Modena for one night and one night alone. I vowed to take proper care of the car, and if anything happened, I’d be responsible. It was a dream, and one that I’ll be eternally grateful for.

One night in June. My night with an exotic. Oh what a night.

It began with picking up the car; I looked at it in complete disbelief. It’s one where you see the car quite often, but when you know it is your turn to drive, all bets are off.

It takes quite a while to warm up, you have to wait for the coolant temperature to reach operating range, but that takes a few minutes. It’s the oil temperature that takes a while.

While that’s taking place, I take a moment to look at the steering wheel. The prancing horse is dead centre and the thought of the motoring heritage floods through my mind. It evokes memories of F1 past, the great races and a logo that everyone recognizes.

Regardless of what people say, most people will recognize a red Ferrari. An Aston will peak the interests of James Bond fans, or people who know their cars. A Lamborghini just looks bonkers and draws a lot of attention. But a Ferrari?

That’s something special.

And here I am, sitting behind the wheel of one of those special cars.

The oil temperature is ready and I can set off but I don’t. Why? Partially fear. Yes, I’m not afraid to admit that I was… afraid. I’m not really sure why that is, maybe it’s because it isn’t my car and I’m afraid of breaking it. But I blip the throttle and hear the engine scream.

Those thoughts of being afraid? Gone. Replaced with a pure excitement level, ready to begin that night on the town. But for good measure, I let out a few more screams generated by the glorious V8 engine sitting behind me.

I open up the window and wave goodbye to my friends. I started to drive but realized soon after that I hadn’t decided where to go. You have one night to live the life of a playboy. Where do you go at a time like this?

The gas station.

The tank can use a topping before I go much further. I pull into the gas station, Shell of course. The car needs premium fuel, minimum of 91 octane and trust me on this one: It’s a big tank.

$80 later (not even a full tank, there was gas still in it) and I’m good to go. Except for the fact that every person that pulls in either needs a picture, or the need to talk to me about the car.

I’m pretty well versed in all the specs so I can properly represent what the car is. The most often question? “How much did it cost?”

Given that I’m not the owner, the only response was “Over $250,000 when new.” The utter look of shock is presented immediately. But I continue on my business. I check the tire pressure, might as well since I’m here.

Now is gut check moment. The car is ready, I’m ready, there’s enough gas to last me the night. Where do I go now?

I figure I’ll head towards the highways and decide when I hit the on-ramps. Do I head East or West? Toronto, or Hamilton?

I pull out of the gas station and give the car a little extra bit of oomph. A giant smile comes to my face, but that’s gone shortly.

Why?

The police are behind me. With their lights on.

The police officer asks for my license, registration, insurance, etc. It isn’t my car though, what do I say?

“Is this car yours?”

“Nope, it’s a friends.”

I thought for sure I’d be arrested. That my one night would be cut short, the cell phones would go off and the keys handed back to the owner.

I’m literally shaking in my seat as the police officer leaves. It can’t end before the night even begins. Not tonight. Any night but tonight.

Uggghhh…

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