I suppose if I wasn’t so lazy, I’d have more of these great Pantera days.
It’s nuts. I walk into my garage and stare at my cat 10 times a day. I think about it all thru the day and night, planning this or that fix and thinking about new mods - the never ending joy of owning a Pantera.
What I don’t do often enough though, is just get in it and ride.
There always some dumb excuse. It’s too clean. It might rain. It’s too cold. I don’t wanna park it. I don’t wanna hassle with all the questions. Too much traffic. Too much trouble. And so on. So I walk right by that gleaming cat, climb into my SUV and lazily go about my day.
Today, like most other days, I woke up and lay in bed watching the sun blasting thru the blinds. I knew it was a beautiful day outside and the cat was begging to stretch her legs. But no. I just lay there. Hours later, with some errands to do I decided WTF. Today I need to stop being so lazy and have some fun. I put on my skinny shoes, grabbed my stuff, hooked up the battery and climbed in. Immediately, I was in another world.
I pumped the throttle a few times and turned the key. She barked to life and I slowly backed out into the sunlight. Yeah, baby! I don’t why I keep putting this off. Kick me.
After a few minutes warming up, I started out. The locals waved and hollered. The kids turned to see what was making all that noise. A local city service truck pulled behind me, then onto the sidewalk beside me to get a better look. I pulled over and invited them to have a look. It was a big moment for them (ok, for me too) as I revealed the engine bay and they got out their phones and started shooting pics and sending them to their friends.
I cruised to the local hardware store to pick up a few things. When I got back, the car was surrounded. I answered the usual “Lambo, how fast, what year, how much” questions, then growled away and stopped at a Starbucks for an espresso. I sat out in the sun watching as the crowd gathered and listening to their crazy comments as they gawked at the car. What a riot. But one comment was special. Some dude was explaining to his friends, as they are crawled around the car, “…original? hell no, it’s a kit car - there’s nothing original anymore.”
So I finished my espresso, strolled over, climbed in and fired her up. As this group came running over I told him, loud enough for all his friends to hear, that this original was born in Modena in 1982.
I found some open roads and thrilled countless chasers, grinners, wavers and smilers. And myself. Ah, the glory of that powertrain, responding to the slightest pressure on the accelerator. I was on my way to visit my son and took the winding road into the mountains and the high rent district. Here, every garage has a Posrche, Lambo or F-car.
You know how you can drive around all day and can never find anyone to race with?
“No, I don’t really have that problem,” says my wife.
Anyhow, I don’t know if it bugs you, but it kills me. You come up beside some hot ride at a light and there's some teenage girl looking in her mirror, putting on makeup. Or it’s some doctor’s wife in a $400k killer. Or some non-car guy, whose banker told him to buy a Ferrari, is totally unaware of me beside him, or the fun he can have if he ever put his foot to the floor or got off his cell phone.
Well, maybe today things would be different.
As I cruised up the hill I saw a 430 Spyder leaving a Shell station (just like the F1 guys) and turn onto the road in front of me. He stopped at a light and I came up beside him. He was a super cool yuppie type with a suntan and torn t-shirt. Maybe, I’d get lucky.
He looks over and says “Jalpa?”
Oh yeah.
“Lemme hear your motor,” he says, and then winds up the F-car to about 12k.
“Pretty cool sound,” I said. And, honestly, it was a really nice whine.
I watched the cars around us give us lots of room, as kids in the back seats squished up to their windows waiting to see what would happen.
The F-car dude was on my left, with traffic in front of him 20 yards away. I could see him looking and thinking he could cut around in front of me at will, so as the light turned green, instead of having some wanker plow me into a big repair job, I hesitated long enough to let him go right in front of me and tear off ahead. The next light was just a block away.
As I slid up on his right I only saw the big yellow shield to my left and heard his engine screaming. The road ahead was clear.
“Lot’s of tickets here,” I yelled. Having had much first hand experience in just this spot.
“F&#k the tickets,” he replied.
As the light went green I hammered the big Cleveland, feathering my way, as the car twisted, straining for traction out of first gear. No more prancing horse, just a bit of red falling away beside me. And a lot of high pitched noise.
I shifted into second and could see no red at all. As I clicked into third I glanced in my mirror and saw him plowing through the dust and smoke. I guessed we were at about 110 mph on this quiet, heavily policed road.
I lifted and cut right toward a side street as he screamed past me. Wild to see him go by, barely in control. This brief explosion of mad Italians echoed off the hilltop homes on both sides of the street - and I had no desire to be anywhere near this guy when he (or we) got stopped - 110 mph in a 30 kph school zone. Life imprisonment for sure.
I quietly waited for the dust to settle and with a crazy grin on my face gurgled on my way to see my son.
“What’s so funny," he said as I walked in. I was totally unaware that I was actually laughing out loud.
“Just a fun day in the Pant,” I replied.
No kidding.
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