A fairly absurd Saturday in anyone's book… The day started at 5:30 am, groggy but willing, knowing that I was digging out a driving hat and scarf to hop in a Rolls Royce Phantom Drophead Coupe (mouthful!) to head to Cars and Coffee. I've gone to C&C in some random stuff, but this one takes the win. It seriously is a land yacht, complete with teak deck on the back. It was such a laugh to drive it and was every single bit as detailed as luxurious as I hoped it would be. I did manage to find a wobbly air vent control on the passenger side and a few BMW components, but other than that, my biggest issue was continually forgetting it had suicide doors!
After C&C we ended up at a ride and drive hosted by Ferrari of Newport Beach at Pelican Hill. The FF is a little bit of an enigma to me and is certainly their most polarizing offering in recent memory. I have such a weak spot for three specific cars: The Shelby Daytona Coupe, the BMW Z3 M Coupe and the Datsun 240Z. The Ferrari FF has, to me, taken all of them and Ferarrified them - it looks killer. Personally I don't think it is likely to be many people's first Ferrari, it's a little too removed from the poster car that so many of us have in our head, but spectacular nonetheless. I don't foresee many backyard bbq, bravado filled conversations where guys speculate about one day owning a Ferrari FF: the lusted, rip-snorting, mind blowing 458 it is not, but I do believe it will become the second in many collections. It's a heck of an alternative to a Panamera Turbo for the wife if you are a 458 owner already...
Somehow the day wasn't done yet. On returning from Pelican Hill, I had the opportunity to drive the poster from MY college dorm, the V12 Lamborghini Murcialago. The icon, the heavyweight, the car that at 11 years old still looks like it was designed yesterday, and the car that every time I see it, still makes me shake my head a little.
However, the Murcie (in this case a MATTE red one) could be compared to scoring a date with Kate Upton and then finding out she farts at dinner, has absurdly big hands and a small cocaine addiction. Let me explain: I'm 6'3 and don't fit, I can't steer it properly because my hand gets jammed between my leg and the pedal box is vehemently against Nike Dunks unless you like something I termed accellebraking. Oh, and it hates to turn where you want it to, a scary predicament when the owner is sitting beside you! I was starting to feel like the Murcie was better enjoyed as a bystander simply appreciating the aural/visual spectacle from the outside.
BUT, as Kate was about to get left at the dinner table after first course, the world was miraculously righted and she stood up and did the Cat Daddy. I forced the grumpy brute of a V12 up off the sofa and asked it to sing. It really is a bit of a lazy motor until forcibly poked, but OH MY GOD when it wakes up. HELLO supercar, hello poster, hello noise you tried to make when you were 12, hello screaming horses and wailing banshees, hello Thor throwing rocks at thunder and hello Zeus beating mountainsides with trees. I'm getting chills thinking of the noise right now. Pacific Coast Highway, I am Murcielago - hear me roar.
Poster status confirmed.
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