I dreamt I was driving down my street a little too fast, and suddenly I ran over a whole bunch of babies. I wasn't driving my regular Toyota Tercel, I was driving an unfamiliar car, a red sports car.
This car was loaded. Macked-out. It had a booming stereo, 7-speed manual transmission, deluxe interior with ultra-comfy bucket seats, fat tires, and some kind of a honey of an engine under that hood. I don't know what make or model it was, but its gleaming midnight-red body was muscular yet curvaceous. It had swoopy lines and sharp angles, reminiscent of a cross between a Corvette Stingray, the early Dodge Viper, and the Mach-5. It even had control buttons on the steering wheel, somewhat similar to the layout on the Mach-5! But these buttons didn't control any special arsenal of weapons and gadgets. Just the normal functions of a sports car.
I tell you, I have never in real life sat in the pilot seat of a machine like that and thrilled to the ROAR of the engine, as I idly gunned it. It had a whole different sound and feel to any other car that I've ever driven. Probably because it isn't a car that exists in reality, but the thrill of it sure felt real. This wasn't one of those cars that insulates you from the feel of the road. This was a car that puts you in tune with the thrum and vibration and pulse of its tires and chassis and engine, a car that makes you part of itself; as you rocket down the road, savoring every pitch, swoop, and turn, feeling the vibration of the pavement as the tread of your four wheels grips it and hurls it behind you!!!!
One sweet ride, man.
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