So recently I was fortunate enough to have gotten my hands on a couple of fairly powerful cars with which to have a play around with. What I normally use to potter around Brisbane with is a car that made 91 horsepower when it rolled off the production line. But that was 1989, 16 years and many moons ago. In the time since, the horses have grown old and battle-weary, sick and maimed. And when I put my foot down, I'm pretty sure there are gaps in the ranks of those 91 eager stallions to launch me toward the horizon.
Not so the MX-5. With nearly double the horsepower, all young and willing, we set off for the most challenging curvy bits of mountain road I could find within reasonable travelling distance. Stuff, you say then, that Initial-D stories are made of.
Not quite.
By the end of the day I'd managed to drift the car around hairpins twice, but lost control of it thrice, and nearly smacked it into a tree once. I'd taken it to 150km/h, I've gone into blind single lane bends without braking, without knowing what's around the bend, and at that point of time, it just didn't register. It was just so intense - you get behind the wheel, prod the throttle, and suddenly you're riding a snowball that's gaining mass and momentum as it makes its way down the slopes. Only that you know that the snowball is going to smack into something large and immovable at the bottom of the slopes. Inevitably.
And so, after the third off, I'd had enough. The car'd probably left me behind 5 minutes up the road things were happening so fast, and I needed to stop to catch up. Its one of the few times I'd cheerfully admit that my abilities are meagre, and I'd lacked the judgement and gotten in way over my head.
Now, there's a registered letter waiting for me at the post office. It might be a traffic offence summons. I've survived the car, but maybe, just maybe, there was a hidden speed camera I'd failed to see.
