Auto Mania

Call me Red. Thank you kind Sir for choosing me. I bet my cousin Spider couldn’t handle the lingering mist of pollution above the chimney skies of the capital. And thank God, you are the one who’s driving me. Remember earlier this morning around the Puncak downhills? You knew exactly how to time my almost uncontrollable downshift with this monster engine God has given me. Twitchy, people asked? For some yes, but not for you able Sir. I need more drivers like you. For power is in my DNA, I had to proudly represent the town of Modena, where my founder was born. Even when the new lines of evo-s are churning up, yet you still choose me: The perfect stimuli to start-off this week. But I have to warn you Sir: Traffic is being served right up - for this IS Monday morning. Sir, you just passed 8000, we will hit the red line soon, slow down your horses! Not that I mind…

I know you wouldn’t loose your cool Sir. It has been raining outrageously since this morning. Traffic is everywhere this evening. But then again traffic is the pulse of Jakarta or any other megapolitan. Without this we may end up dead. How did your meetings go Sir? I bet the day at the office was actually good this Tuesday. You look content. Of course you would, I am enveloping you in a very sumptuous nappa, warmed you a bit in this rainy day to the perfect temperature of your command, and you even did a little head-banging to the rhythm of drum & bass I have on your playlist. Oh No! Sir, there are other ways to get to the gym. Don’t! Sir, the flood is about half a meter! Sir, are you crazy!! Gosh. Ok, I’ll shud-up. Don’t give me that smirk Sir! I knew I can handle a wee bit more water-play, for my name wouldn’t be Range Sport. Didn’t like the “older” Rover? Hated the “married with two kids” Discovery? Bah, sometimes I just don’t understand these younger generations of landed gentries.

Generally people would think of Wednesdays as the dullest day of the week. But if you still had to go through Wednesday, you might as well do it with a little style. My name is Number 0045. For AMG only cloned 3000 of me per-annum, you forced your way to get me earlier this year. And you did specifically choose that number, for I know, you regard the number 9 as the highest in its rank. Ah, my perforated sport seats, my 482 mm light–alloy wheels with a firmer gripping wider tires, how about those large air inlets and those heavenly quadruple chromed oval exhausts? There is no four-door coupe as mean as me (well, remind me to kill M6 soon). Park me there Sir, yes, right in front of the club doors, I wasn't made for regular parking lots nor grubby basements. I know that look you gave people while disembarking the cabin, a proud owner of a CLS 55.

Another day is dawning. It’s early. Have you even slept yet? Where to Sir? Oh, Bogor? Ok. Another golf morning with the “boys”? The route against the morning traffic was pretty empty. Oh, yea, I may be big, but I am not clumsy. Feel the road. Feel me Sir. Push me harder. Yeah, like that, I have a lot of love to give under the hood. Come on, you can push me more. Just 80% will do lah, my torq caps is “only” 630 N.m. You didn’t get this 6.2 lt v.8 for nothing no? Oh come on I am more equipped than your other “Italian lovers” in safety precaution standards. Crumple zones? Three points seat-belts? Collapsible steering column? Strengthened cell? ESP, DSC, TC and what nots? ABS? Sandwich platform? Pre-safe 2002? Of course you knew it. I am built only for the Sonderklasse, a very special class of people. Those Germans shorten me for an S-Class. As you of are a connoisseur Sir, lovingly you call me W221. But of course you sent me to AMG tuning first as usual. Didn’t even need my newborn emblem, the S 63. Cuz what’s inside that matters eh?

Friday is what I call a super-ego day. Where the super-egos are exhibiting their powers and might (in the form of their super-cars) to the world of -well, the same pool of other-super-egos I presumed. Of course you didn’t wanna look “shabby-chic” dear Sir. You want hard-core attention and I… am your perfect penis extension for the night. Like the true bull of a devil, my name derived from. Twenty-three strokes of sword-blades didn’t kill me back in Cordoba bullring in 1879.Go ahead, swing my door open, these gull-wings of pure evil will flip those rich bastards back to hell. One warning tho. I don’t think the Sudirman-Thamrin strip will be equipped to handle 300 mph in any condition. But of course for the super-egos there lies the challenge no? Even the super-heroes in Batman Begins and Transporter agreed on this. But of course, I am extremely bat friendly: Murcielago, look me up in any Spanish dictionary. Now, are you ready? Write your wills first, sign your waivers off, and you may floor me to the limit. Oh I am so evil. You’ll see how my 6.5 V12 engine of an LP640 will raise your adrenalin rush to a whole new level. Not bad for a son of a Diablo.

Buon giorno. Mi chiami Enzo. I provide sweet rides, and I really mean that! Ken Okuyama pimped up this Berlinetta at Pininfarina. Hey, stop calling me F60! My younger siblings will be inaugurated soon for the special anniversary, not just yet tho. However, I will be your best friend on this very beautiful Saturday... Vroom… vroom… Call me again in about 3 hours, my master demands his joyride! Now, now... Leave him alone will you? He needs a little solitude with me, number 396, the fourth of the last Enzo-s to be built ever.

Wild weekend is almost over. Let’s go back to some sense of normalcy. NOT. Nice isn’t it? Feel my tractions darling. This bucket is supporting every move you make, no? How about that 3.7 seconds you just did to reach 100 kmph? Fun right? This turbocharger wasn’t made for the faint hearted. Sure its high-rev power would fit a larger charger. But if we can fit it here for your enjoyment? I’m sure you wouldn't mind. Talk about that flexibility factor. Ahh, just like the sudden burst of wasabi in your mouth with that tuna sashimi. Wanna push me harder? Motor Trend did it not too long ago in 3.2 secs! Just flip to the triptronic S transmission. I promise you, I wont blow-up. That’s what these water-cooled engines are built for. Internally, I am aka 997, the variant. But why complicate matters? Let them be jealous. How many of them will even be allowed to test-drive a 911 Turbo?

Seven hot cars for seven different days. And all these times, all I wanted was just to spend a little time with you everyday, just like them. They could feel the way you handle them, the way you take them slow while enjoying the sunset, the way you ride them full-throttle in a fury of pure driving passion. They felt needed, they felt cherished.

Argh, the agony, if only I can morph myself into a special auto.

Your not-too-secret admirer,



Prof. Utonium.
Head of R&D
Cooper S. Mini Div.