If I owned a 599 GTB Fiorano

Redhead that breathes fire. From Testarossa to Fiorano. Ferrari's been coming up with new breed of thoroughbreds from its stables year on year. Just saw one on TV. The 599 Gran Turismo Berlinetta Fiorano or simply the 599 GTB Fiorano. So why am I writing about it? Am I an auto journo? Nope. Have I ever driven one of these? Nope. Have I ever even seen one in flesh? About some years back when I had been to Sydney, Australia, I had seen the F360 Maranello in an auto expo (see the pic). That's when I saw a Ferrari in flesh and blood for the first time. But what about 599 GTB? Umm.. nope. So why waste my time on it? I don't know. Ever since I got my Mattel 1:18 scale model of the legendary Lamborghini Countach (I've never seen a car like that since), I started following cars. Mind you, those were the days when there were no good and affordable car mags in India. With my meagre pocket money, I could not even afford those cool posters in Archie's. For a long time, my schoolmates used to think that Ferrari and Lamborghini were names invented by my imagination. No kidding.

I like cars. Period. People have given me names which were not so flattering behind my back for being a car nut. But then that's part of growing up. Their growing up, I mean. Anyways, for a car nut I'm a pretty lousy driver. My driving skills swerve from ultra careful to a downright angry road-rager which causes me to do silly things. I'm trying to downplay the road rage part these days. I did talk about how to avoid road rage previously in one of my posts about coming back home. One day, if I end up owning a car that is now just a poster in my room, for real, then I'll have to be careful not to ding it. So bye-bye road rage.

Back to where I was. Truth be told, I might never ever drive a super car and might not even know how its insides look like, but from what little I've seen of the Fiorano, it is a work of art and then some. Every handbuilt piece really stands out in flamboyance that is typical of anything Italian. And it has a mighty heart (and brains), which is a 6 liter (5999 cc) engine. Huge. Massive. For a berlinetta, I mean a two-seater. Nice. Well, that's exactly why its a supercar and is so mighty exclusive. The more I read about it, the more I like it. Can't imagine what'd happen if I saw it for real. Probably, I'll go on a bank-robbing spree till I get enough hard cash to book one or get booked by the Policia in the process. I will certainly think up of something. Probably, I would form a team of suave heistmeisters a la Danny Ocean (of the Ocean's Eleven fame) and rob some Casinos. Probably.

But what would I do if I actually had enough to buy one and actually bought one? Tough question (I'm finding my own questions difficult to answer today. Strange but not unusual. I normally didn't have answers to the Math quizzes I used to take in school and college.). Would I drive one right out of the Fiorano test track? I would. But only after my hands stopped shaking. That would take one whole hour to happen. And in the meantime, if didn't drop the keys in my excitement (hope it comes with a wallet key option), I certainly would. Butterfingers! And then once I finally drove it home to its humongous garage (here, I'm stretching my imagination. A guy who can buy a car like that should have a humongous garage.) in a chateau in France, I'd pull a chair and sit beside it and watch the beauty for a long long time. Einstein explained his Theory of relativity like this: spend hours of time chatting with a beautiful girl and it'd be like time flew and you'd be left wondering where all that time went. However, spend time with something you are least interested in and even seconds would seem like hours. In my case, those hours in the garage would be the Einstein's example of the one with the beautiful girl. I'd fly the best gas/petrol from wherever they make the best gas/petrol and use it. I'd buy the best coolant and engine oil in the world for those 12 cylinders. I've heard that there's this guy who charges 5000 pound sterling (per wash) for washing cars and he does only supercars for rich clientele. I'd hire him to clean mine. What else? Oh yes! once a month when the weather's right and the roads were driveable (which is between 1 am and 4 am here) I'd wake up in the middle of the night and take it out for a spin. Or once every summer I would fly it out to Nurburgring and drive round the track a dozen times, each and every day of that summer. Or I'd ship it in my 90-foot custom yacht (another small stretch of my imagination) to Monaco and go for a drive in the Alps around the Principality's Casino Royale. Well, that's what life in the fast lane's all about. And once every year when Scuderia Ferrari came up with a new model, I'd reserve one for my stables. Champagne wishes and caviar dreams. Sigh! But one thing's for sure, if I owned a car like that, I wouldn't be writing this post. I simply wouldn't have the time to sit on my futon and type away my imagination. Enough.

Ever since the Renaissance happened, Italians have become highly expressive about their art and engineering (and of course, football). Good for them. And good for us. All those supercars they make let you dream about your career. With just a simple dream to own one, you end up working that much harder (I don't know if its working in my case). Otherwise, questions like "What makes me get up and go to work everyday?" plague me every now and then. And every now and then I get this vision and the answer flashes, "Son, for the very reason that some day you've gotta own one of those beauties. Or maybe several of them." Some day. That's gonna be One mighty fine day.