What you are looking at now is a picture of a Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder that was parked nearby. The sky has been weeping wet snow for the last few days and the driving weather is miserable.
Some non-stereotypical Lamborghini owner decided this was the perfect time to test out the Gallardo.
I can say this officially now: This is by far the most beautiful car I have ever seen up close. I love the Gallardo like the supercar it is, but I had the strangest experience when I saw it. After leaving work, I looked up across the street and it felt as if I was punched in the chest. The clouds hung low in the sky and I navigated the snow to get closer, looking around to see if the owner was nearby or if I was hallucinating from slipping and hitting my head on the concrete.
My phone was out and in camera mode quickly. After about twenty photos, a lady who had come over to get into her white sedan (parked dangerously close to the front of the Lamborghini) asked me, in half amusement and half concern, what I was doing. I replied respectfully, enlightening her that this is a 300,000$ (So I stretched the truth a little... wouldn't you?) piece of automotive art. She replied matter-of-factly "Oh wow, well to think I almost bumped it." and simply got in her car and left.
That did not deter me from my cathartic joy. I looked through every duct, read every letter on the P-Zero tires, and got up close and personal with the oval exhaust tips. It was like seeing a hero that you had only read about, and he was going to go ahead and let you look over his suit personally. I was enthralled.
And then I didn't want to leave. I found myself stuck in place.
That's what this car does to you. It draws you in and makes you gawk at it while hopping around with your phone like some tourist at Disneyland. Then, when you have other things to do, your feet won't carry you away. I wanted to just be seen standing by it. I didn't care if people thought I owned it or if they thought I was trying to steal it. I just wanted agreement that what I was doing was right: that this really was something that special. Being the snowy, sloppy day it was, no one did. It felt strange, being that close to something that I know had such high potential capabilities as a machine. I really felt like there was nothing better in the world than to try and get closer, spend more time, and just drink in this vehicle more while I imagine what driving it must have felt like.
After about "four times longer than anyone should have stayed by that car", I had to tear myself away from it, but it's still in my mind, keeping my thoughts standing at that curb all day. On the walk back, everything else on the road just looked like a lump of car. One discolored lump after another, indistinguishable from the next. That hasn't happened to me before.
Who owns this? Why were they driving it in the snow? Why a convertible? What kind of person decides to do that, on P-Zero tires, no less? Who was wealthy enough to buy it, and then decide to park it on the street like that, in several inches of water? It was like stumbling upon Automotive Shangri-La to find it completely abandoned with only traces of what must have been a truly wild experience.
So there you have it, without any explanation, a wet Gallardo.
This has made my rather melancholy week much better.