The autobahn stretches out before me, an invitation to spread my wings and fly. My driver seems a bit anxious at first, but soon, in the spirit of the moment, has my accelerator on the floor and my engine singing in operatic synchronicity. He is alert for any possibility. This is the autobahn, after all.

In my rear view mirror, I see headlights approach rapidly. They flash 3 times. Slower cars are moving aside. I signal a lane change and scoot over out of the way.

The newcomer is a blue Porsche Panamera, an opulent four-passenger sports sedan with a 500-hp V8 engine. It passes me like I am standing still and I am doing more than 140. My driver makes a face. He’s not ashamed of me, his new generation Beetle, but I can tell that his heart just flew up the road with the Porsche. I try to keep up but I cannot.

Rain is falling ahead. We slow down to below 100, as the wipers kick in.

By the side of the road is the Panamera, hood up, steam rising. Guess I’m not such a bad car after all.


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