This is an obviously hypothetical question because, well. . . I mean, look at us. But let’s say you had the choice of a night of bumpin’ uglies with the one person in the public eye that really gets your motor started, or spending a day driving the car that stalks your dreams, and taunts you with its un-obtainability. Faced with that conundrum, which would you choose?
I bet Jennifer Aniston can really get it on. I also jones for some seat time in the center-position pilot’s chair of a McLaren F1. Being VERY married, my choice is simple; if it came down to being more than just. . . with the former Friends star, or emptying a tank or two in the formerly fastest production car on the planet, I’m afraid that Jennifer would have to go it alone, and my carbon foot print would be thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis big. Booya.
But what about you, would you pick George Clooney over a Cobra? Angelina Jolie over a Lamborghini Jota? Do you have an agreement with your significant other that, in the event that certain celebs throw themselves at you, you are A-Okay for launch, the mutual approval being based on the utter absurdity of the event’s possibility quotient? Do you have such an agreement with your car? Unless it’s somebody like the petri dish that is Courtney Love, there shouldn’t be any lasting physical effects of a celebrity tryst, and likewise, a day behind the wheel of a dream ride won’t make it physically impossible to re-enter your daily driver. Emotionally however, such a event can have life-altering repercussions. Say you spend the day carving up canyons in a 458 Italia, how would that drive feel the next time you did it in your Cobalt or Camry?
By the same thought, let’s say you and Marisa Tomei find yourselves sharing the last motel room available after your bus breaks down in a blizzard, and the only way to stay warm is to spoon together naked, to share body heat. One thing naturally leads to another, and pretty soon you’re opening the window to cool the room down and prevent the plastic ice bucket from melting. I’m not saying Ms. Tomei has any kind of superhuman sexual powers, I’m only implying that it looks to me as though she might. After such an Oscar® winning performance, regular, non-celebrity gettin’ busy might also not continue to hold the same appeal.
So, what’ll it be, the ultimate sex, or the ultimate car? Move over, I’ll drive, or bend over, I’ll drive? Which is it, sex with your dream, or driving it?
Image sources: [ Motorcrave.com, Jaunted.com]
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