When I first saw your picture from the Paris auto show, my heart fluttered. What’s a beautiful piece of metal like you doing in a city like that, I thought.
Then at the Detroit show, I got my first chance to touch your cool aluminum skin; I shivered.
Then came the day your owners gave me the keyfob to your heart.
One glorious week: Just you and me—and a couple of pesky passengers who wanted to talk over your delicate rumble whispering in my ear. We became one on the open road. When I drove you, it felt like you were reading my mind, only faster.
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