My friend, Michael, owns what is perhaps the coolest car in the world. The only improvements I can think of for it would be a deafening stereo system with a CD player, satellite radio and tons of huge-ass speakers/a subwoofer/et cetera ad infinitum and perhaps a gash through the floor for easy trash or urine disposal or for use as a vomit hole if driving while extremely intoxicated.
I had the pleasure of whizzing around at 12 miles to the gallon in this primo machino Friday afternoon to get to and from Art School Confidential, a film that truly had the potential to be half as great as this car but missed it by a few thousand points.
Though Michael is spoiled by a sweet medium-grey Jaguar and two Lexuses (Lexusi?), this is, by far, his favorite vehicle in the fleet. I get hot just catching a tiny whiff of its immense and awesome stench.
Michael on the phone with the woman who keeps him in cool cars
One-point-something thousand pounds of metallic bliss
This five-speed can punch it. I am forever encouraging Michael to speed to my heart's content
Two symbols of opulence - the Porsche crest and the optional bronze faux-rust applique
The lap of luxury
It just needs to be detailed...
...or perhaps just a good dusting?
Why would anyone even want to keep an eye on the losers pulling up the rear?
You can tell old money paid for these wheels