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You’ve probably seen those skinny, anorexic girls on the internet say, “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.”
Well, I’d like to paraphrase and repurpose that very misguided axiom.
For reference, let me paint the picture. Sun just about setting, top down, and the cool winter air nipping down my neck. I’d just joined the highway. A few slower cars litter the lanes, but it’s by no means busy. Stuck in second - the S2000 has extraordinarily high per-gear speeds - I eventually spot a gap and floor it. I hook third, and ride the wave of noise from the rushing window and and rotating pistons, all the way to the redline.
It’s then that I thought about the words those skinny girls use, but added some motoring context. Nothing looks as good as 9000RPM feels.
I’m far more practical with certain parts of my motoring taste. I don’t give a hoot about a car’s looks, really. I didn’t mind the aggressive styling of the R34 Skyline GTR. The awkward proportions of the Z3 M Coupé. The wings and slits of the Gumpert Apollo.
“Those cars are so ugly,” I hear some people say.
Well, buddy, once you’re behind the wheel it doesn’t really matter. And in case you think I care about interior finishes: those also don’t matter when you’re enjoying the drive.
It’s just by pure coincidence that, very often, the glorious soundtracks produced by some special engines emanate from perfectly-sculpted fenders and flared arches. The RX7. The S2000. Pick any Italian…
So, if it comes down to lusty curves with damped grabhandles, or a mechanical masterpiece with piston personality, the latter takes precedence for me every single time.
The big big green machine from Jeep. Does it clean up properly or is it just for plugging mud?
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