The car I was promised was something little like a Kia or a Toyota. The car I got was a friggin huge and dark and impressive Dodge Charger! I have always wanted a Dodge Charger, seriously. It's not a wimpy car. It is a CAR. It defines "Muscle Car." Lots of noise, lots of power, no finesse, little class. Who cares. It goes really fast.
Some cars are peppy, they move when you put your foot down. Some cars are even peppier, they just move out there like a rocket. The Dodge Charger is not like that. When you put your food on the accelerator, first it growls. Loudly. Then it shoots away from you like a high school kid on crack. As quickly as possible, it is gone. But wait, not really gone because you are still there, sort of in control.
It has been a very, very long time since I have played with a car like this. On the freeway today (out to Sacramento to take Mom to the doctor's, a story for tomorrow) it put every other car to shame. I heeded my friend Tom's advice and used cruise control when I could but there were times when that was not possible. There were times when that car had to be played. And I played it. Hard. It loved it and so did I.
Seriously, new cars are always peppy. This Dodge Charger had 35,000 miles on it and it could hit 60 in about two seconds. Muscle car, yes! Flex it and bring it on and I loved it. I wanted to drive this car to Los Angeles but that ain't happening. But I will take it out to the coast this weekend and I hope I can make it work for me. As I said, it growls. And that's a good thing.
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