A month or so ago I had the pleasure of riding in a Porsche for the first time. And by pleasure I mean a heart-stopping-wet-yourself-and-not-feel-bad-about-doing-so-because-at-least-you-know-you-are-still-alive sort-of pleasure.
Some of you who have heard this story already may be wondering why I waited this long to write about this experience. My reasons are two-fold:
1. During our two-mile drive the Porsche reached such a high rate of speed that we actually travelled back in time and rather than accept a ride back to the present I decided a walk back would be more conducive to my health.
2. I finally reached a point where I no longer jam my foot down on an imaginary brake every time I think about it
The driver (who shall remain nameless in the interest of keeping my job) of this particular Porsche is not a reckless driver who drives fast just to drive fast. Instead he drives fast in an attempt to make his passengers (or perhaps just me) cry. Of course I admit some fault in this incident as I made a remark about getting whiplash from the car driving at the speed of 2980 mph for one block before his anti-neck brakes kicked in at each red light we hit. His solution for keeping me from getting whiplash was to drive even faster so that we no longer had to stop at red lights (or see them for that matter). This did indeed work as I did not get whiplash. The heart-attack, however, he could not prevent. Luckily for me the one benefit of riding in a car that is traveling faster than the speed of light is that such things as heart attacks are rendered impotent due to the aforementioned time travel.
Upon arriving safely at our destination I gained an appreciation for unconsciousness. Also I was thankful for life and all of the unexpected travels back in time that one experiences.
In the final analysis, I’m glad that I got to ride in a Porsche as I can now add to my bucket-list: never ride in a Porsche again.