My Night with an Exotic Part 3

So here I am, in the middle of the biggest cockfight I’ve ever been involved in. What is it about? Honestly, not a whole lot. The old guy in the Corvette is upset that I disrupted his hard work by just pulling up.

But grandpa just doesn’t understand what a Corvette stands for. Next time you’re at a parking lot and see someone pull up in one, watch him carefully.

Step 1 will be to exit the car.

Step 2 will be to lock it / arm the security system.

Step 3 will be while walking to the store, he will slightly turn and look at his own car while heading up. Yes, he needs to stare at it; just to be sure his car is still cool. But you’re a lemming. There, I said it. It’s like standing in front of a mirror for an extended period of time to just look at yourself and admire how you look.

(Personal note: ZR1s do not apply, those are great.)

I’m of the opinion that there exists around 40 years of motoring heritage to tap, a wide variety of makes and models that could be had. A used Ferrari 348 is comparable in price but has a distinct character. The same applies with a Dodge Viper, you don’t see as many on the road and for good reason: They scare people! And that’s good!

Now I’m sure there are a lot of cool Corvette owners and those rules don’t apply to all. So if you are a cool Corvette owner, I apologize. If you’re under the age of 35 and own a Corvette, then this obviously doesn’t apply. If you’re over the age of 35, own a Corvette and try to pick up girls at club, I personally think you’re a dick. Pretty simple and clear in my mind.

This guy is a dick.

I thought BMW owners were bad, but this is a whole new level. Speaking of which, next time you notice someone riding your bumper on the highway, changing lanes without signaling, or random acceleration/braking, chances are it’s a BMW.

But back to the action, we’re face to face; like Timberlake/Samberg in Mother Lover, except I’m the only cool guy there. Even though it isn’t my car, I have pride in it. I’m also extremely opinionated.

Our disagreement gets a little out of hand and the girls that were present break things up. Two of them return to the club but the other goes with me to get some food. There’s this Greek-ish place nearby. I learned a lesson that night. Most girls like seeing you not back down, but when you take it too far, they will leave.

We sit down outside and have a small conversation. I decide to leave shortly after. At this point, I’m getting a little frustrated. I find that I’m overly concerned about the safety of the car and it’s preventing me from having fun. And by fun, I mean alcohol. I had strict rules placed upon me that I couldn’t have any alcohol at all, same with no hanky panky inside the car. Buzz kill, I know. But how often do you get a chance like this?

Strategy change.

Having the car front and centre is creating some uneasiness for me. I need to kick back a bit and have more fun. Off to Toronto I go. This time, I’m going to taxi it, leave the car at my place and rely on my skills.

Along the way I’m driving up the QEW. There’s a decent amount of traffic considering the time, but it’s pretty nice outside. I’m cruising along doing about 110-115 kph. I can’t really tell. The speedometer goes up to 325ish and the distance between 100 and 140 is like 60-65 in any other car. Crazy.

Suddenly, this black Escalade pulls up beside me. The windows are tinted and they are sporting quite the interesting chrome rims. I’m just thinking “Oh great, what now?” but that’s because I’m a jackass.

Yes a jackass, not a dick and not a douche. That is reserved for Corvette and BMW owners. Me? I own a Sunfire. Do you have a problem with that? Really? Do you? Because I do. I hate that car, right now more than ever. I’ve now experienced something that will likely never happen again.

So the Escalade passenger rolls down their window, mine are already down. It’s a little cold but it’s the only way I can hear the engine. I get asked to slow down. It’s picture time! I do a slight gang sign because I’m a geek. It’s not like the picture will even turn out.

Next up is a red Honda Civic doing about 140, drives right past me and slams on his brakes. Yeah, real smart. Picture time again! It’s getting a little tedious at this point. But I pretend to smile and be a nice guy. Odd. I think it was at this point I began to understand why most Ferrari owners act like they do. It’s the same dog and pony show, over and over again. It breaks you down.

I finally arrive in my parking garage and I have some fun making sure the car will not bottom out. It’s a tight fit in the spot as well. Almost an 18-point turn to get it in, but I manage it without incident.

I head upstairs and get changed. The car makes you sweat a little more than usual, it’s mentally taxing paying attention to every small nook and cranny on the road, to the cars beside you and keeping an eye on your speed, which is very hard.

So I head out to a local club and what happens next is nothing short of surprising.

Related posts:

1. My Night with an Exotic (Full version) Let me begin this article with one undeniable fact:...
2. My Night with an Exotic Part 2 When I last left you all, I was pulled...
3. My Night with an Exotic Part 4 After an extensive conversation with the taxi driver, I...
4. My Night with an Exotic Part 1 Let me begin this article with one undeniable fact:...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.