Friday, January 3, 2014

I Get My Dream Ride...For A Few Minutes

I am often asked, if money were no object, what one car would I want.  I can think of a few, starting with a '63 Corvette split window.  Maybe a '65 Cobra; a real Cobra, not one of the kit car replicas.   A Plymouth Prowler, a very underrated car.  Maybe throw in a Viper for good measure.  But if I had to pick one car for everyday personal use it would be the Cadillac CTS-V.

The CTS-V has it all.  Luxury, power, world class handling; it is a world class car without an out of this world price tag.  Yes, it's upward of 60K, but compare that to some German and Italian cars in the same arena and that price tag looks like chump change.  The car has all the luxury you would expect from a Cadillac and it's stuffed with a 556 hp engine.  It will go 0-60 in 4 seconds.  It's a muscle car with sports car handling dressed as a luxury coupe.

The reason I bring this up is that until last Monday I had never actually seen a CTS-V on the road.  In magazines, videos and one on the floor at an indoor car show, but never in motion on the road.  Lots of CTS models, but never the V version.  Monday morning I'm driving on a major thoroughfare in my community when I see a CTS in my rear view mirror.  It was only when he passed me that I saw the V with the red slash on the rear deck.  Triple black, even sitting still it looked like it was in motion.

I fell in behind it just so I could keep looking at it.  When the driver turned into a small shopping center, I followed.  Looking back, what I did next seems crazy.  When the driver parked I parked a lane across facing the Caddy.  If a woman had stepped out I would have just gone home.  But the driver was a man in his 50's and after he got out I approached him with a big, friendly smile and my hands in clear view.  I told him what a beautiful car he had and that it was the first one I had seen on the street.  That I knew a lot about the car's specs probably put him at ease.  I just kept babbling about the engine, the suspension, the flat out speed.   I told him I just wanted to get a close up look and he said that was fine.

After talking for a few minutes, what happened next still seems surreal.  The guy said to a complete stranger "Want to drive it?"  I was dumbfounded.  After mumbling something about not wanting to inconvenience him, he says "Let's just take it around the lot".  That's when I started to wonder if he was going to kidnap me.  I mean, who lets a stranger drive their car?  Well, this guy did.  We took one lap around the lot with me at the wheel.  No punching the gas, no slalom around the light poles.  Just a 10-15 mph lap of the lot.

I thanked him profusely, we shook hands and went our separate ways, each with a great story to tell their wives that night.  Car guys understand other car guys.

12 comments:

The Big Guy said...

Let me tell you what your mother would tell you: You're lucky you're not dead.

bill said...

Just the sort of thing I, myself have probably done too often.

fleshpot said...

A brief love affair but worth the time.

Anonymous said...

Did you swallow?

Ide

Grumpy said...

I wouldn't be dead because I was locked and loaded. So there. In IL I'd be dead.

WTF? Who gave Ide this URL? Now I have to change it.

Anonymous said...

Maybe you and Big Ben can go out cruising for girls that dont want to sleep with either of you. We all know he doesnt care, he will still make it happen.

Seal

Anonymous said...

Fake Ide is a non ELITE Ide. There can only be one. That comment isn't riddled with enough racist/anti-semetic insults to have my validation.

FYI, Grump, your link is plastered on G$'s front page. The internet isn't hard.

Ide

Anonymous said...

Yea that isnt the REAL Seal either, but sounds very close to something I would say...

Seal

GMoney said...

I figured that your dream car would be a hearse.

bill said...

I was never mechanical minded but depended on guys like you, during my car buying years.

Sherry said...

Idiot.

kden said...

And you think my stalking of John Hillstrand is weird.