Coming out of the curve at 50 mph, pulling a strong quarter-G in the lateral with just enough body lean to see my driverside mirror go parallel to the road markings... Supple. I bludgeon the throttle, 220 lb-ft of centimetric onces rustles the loose change in the tray. The downshift quietly arrives afterward... The ol’ buttershift, baby.
The Korean V6 garbles as the needle sticks to 3,500 rpm. Mute. Mummur. Mumble. Moan! That’s the one!! It’s at 4,500 rpm when it happens, heavy with the weight of waiting..
..the Amanti came on cam...
“Power. Power. POWWAHH!!” I yell out and the engine yells right back! As I approach 5,500 rpm I think to myself, “Ive been on throttle for at least 20 seconds now. This must be 110 mph!”
Ludicrous speed is every speed in an Amanti.
The scenery around me is a blur, spiraling, swirling as if the world is being slurped through a celestial straw. I am in the center of a Capri Sun pouch. Squeeze me.
I look down at the tach. The engine is now arriving at 6,200 rpm. Hmm, that’s not adding up since I have yet to upshift. I look down at the speedometer. I mean really look at the speedo. The needle appears to be tickling 79 mph. Traffic to my left is passing me on the 75 mph interstate.
It was at that moment I realized that perhaps my grandmother and myself being on the same medication wasn’t as great of a windfall as I had first believed...
*On a serious note though, the sensation of speed in the Amanti is the complete opposite of modern cars. There are hundreds of small instances where I believe I need to slow down just to look down and see that I havent even reached the speed limit. I love it!