I've never been much turned on my cars- expensive, limited, tuned, matte; just don't care.
Ferraris, Lambos & SLRs, pointlessly revving their engines at traffic lights annoy me to the point of eye-rolling, demonstratively shaking my head and throwing disapproving looks around. I just can't help myself. There is something so arrogant about drivers feeling the need to showcase the horsepower of their engines at the most pathetic of opportunities.
But there is one mouthwatering exception. The Aston Martin DBS. My god it's beautiful. Quite honestly, I am sold on the aesthetics and styling alone. Sleek, sexy, kinda mean looking. It's just plain bad. And obviously I'm so enamoured that performance is the last thing on my mind. Although I'm reliably informed it's great.
My next door neighbour just got a new one in a sumptuous metallic green. I keep telling him that the colour washes him out and clashes terribly with his hair. He has remained unmoved. Wonder what he'll do when he hears that the "debt collection agency" have appointed me as their "representative" to enforce their security?
But on a serious note.. once I am working and provided I don't blow the amount of the Greek budget deficit on shoes, dresses and handbags (a frightening possibility), this will be the baby in my garage. A few years to wait, but it will happen.