I’d give my left arm, my right leg, and both of my testicles to drive the 2008 Lamborghini Reventon. My pet car for 2007 was the Lamborghini Murciélago, which I used to whoop ass in Need For Speed: Most Wanted and Need For Speed: Carbon (although I would never use a Murciélago for a Canyon Duel: I use my trusty Nissan Skyline for that). Lamborghini has a special place in my heart. I won’t say that exact same line to a girl or to my own mother, but I would say it about Lamborghini.
Like any man, I have a particular fascination for cars: I literally wept seeing the new Subaru Impreza looking like a damned station wagon for a soccer mom. Back when I was in Subic Bay, the highlight of my trip was not the sight of dolphins at Ocean Adventure, but a Lotus Elisé and a Ferrari Testarossa parked next to each other. When customs officials wrecked a smuggled Porsche 911 Carrera under a mechanical shovel, I literally wanted to throw feces at the Bureau of Customs and hijack the beautiful car, spiriting it away to the highway that is freedom.
Not to sound racist or anything, but I have the urge to be a black rapper and fill the garages of my diamond-studded gold-plated mansion with Bugatti Veyron’s, Lincoln Continental’s, and BMW’s from every era. But those are pipe dreams: driving experiences left on cursor keys on keyboards.