While engaged in an intense game of poker the other evening my opponent, with a glint in his eye, asked whether I would be betting the Bugatti. He was referring to the stunning 2014 Super Sport that rests in the supercar section of my garage. The two vehicles I was willing to forfeit had been narrowed down to the stunning Bugatti or the sweet 1936 Auburn Boat Tail Speedster. The Auburn is raspberry and chrome and smacks of royalty. The Bugatti is – what else? – black. I went with the Bugatti.
Of course, neither of these vehicles is real. Or, more accurately, both are very much in existence, they just don’t happen to have my name on the title. Nor are they in my possession or my driveway or even, perhaps, anywhere in the entire state of Oregon. As far as my reality goes they exist – in a stable of rare, classic, and supercars to rival Jay Leno’s – only in my imagination.
In the real world I am a loyal Ford fan and Jeep enthusiast. Both brands meet and exceed a variety of my needs including those having to do with fun and aesthetics. But in my mind my vehicular appreciation runs to the antique, the utilitarian, the exotic.
Consider the highlights of my … er… collection: A 1948 Ford F-1 truck, its sweeping curves and gleaming art deco grille the epitome of quiet class. Then there’s the beastly 1996 Double Cab UNIMOG with camper, for when a girl needs to traverse the kind of terrain that doesn’t offer a Marriot. And the crown jewel: a 2015 Pagani Zonda R, matte black with gold striping, all fierceness and brawn, looking like it might reach speeds fast enough to fly.
As fate would have it my pair of aces won the hand and my opponent’s Guerilla, a custom Harley Davidson sportster, a bike that, much like him, manages to be long and languid while also screaming muscle and meaning business. A twitch tugged at his otherwise stony poker face as he considered the loss to his fantasy garage. He needn’t worry about the bike. I’ll take good care of it.