Ode to the Maaz

When I was in high school, my best friend’s step mother drove a 6 speed, twin turbo, V8, two door Masserati. It lingered on the edge of our grasp for 2 long years. Finally, when I was a senior, The back window popped out while she was going down the Atlantic City parkway. You can only fix that in Philadelphia. So, she drove back, dropped it off at the shop, and went to Atlantic City in the Jag. Not before giving us a half hour lecture about our future conduct when we picked up the car. “Honestly, We know how important your leather and Walnut trimmed interior, 300HP, FLAME RED MOONROOF ROCKET SHIP…. Er, that is to say… we wouldn’t do anything to your car… straight home, no problem.”
It’s really an experience to ride in an exotic sports car. Most of the cars you and I are likely to drive in our lifetimes are just a series of compromises between price, performance, and a bunch of corporate decisions. Even a sport Mustang or Camaro has felt the pinch. A Masserati is something else entirely. It has almost no compromises. It’s a tiger with a haircut. Torque and Horsepower aren’t just merging into heavy traffic. They’re firm hands that grasp you and pull you a few inches off the ground. Each progression through the gears is a smooth hop forward and up. The back squats at first, lifts the car, and then floats back down in the next gear change. The turbos are crescendos in the hop. It’s the feeling of compressed physical memory. It’s the blind curve on a water slide.
Of course it cost a small fortune and was put together like a cheap suit. When was the last time you heard of a back window just “popping out” on the highway?
I’m convinced to this day that it was worth every penny. Metaphors and descriptions are almost meaningless. It’s a physical memory. It’s something that I highly recommend at least once.