Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren - Sweet Jesus, if you love me...
''You ready?'' Bradford asks and slams the accelerator. Tires squeal. In 3.8 seconds, we pass 60 m.p.h. In 11 seconds, we're doing 120, all 617 horses of the handmade V-8 engine cranking. No whistling or shaking. But the ride is loud and raw. At 150, the engine is a primal roar and my back is pressed flat against the black leather seat. At 175, the peripheral world blurs, and my lungs are in my throat. ''Easy, isn't it?'' Bradford shouts, his hands loose on the steering wheel, as the needle hits 180.
I am sooooooo ready.
3 comments:
Ah, the dreams of a waking man....But all is not lost yet, Spd; bidding doesn't end until tonight.
Seconded...and let's just pray it isn't another kitten purring in his driveway, instead:)
No kittens!
Post a Comment