Wikipedia defines the 4-53T as the single most delectable engine to ever be devised by human hands. I’m not one to argue, though I will get a little bit salty once that jerk bot reverts my edit again. You could say I had a long running love of the Detroits, but that love was about to be put to the test.

I had been invited by a shadowy benefactor - in fact, someone who sat on the board of directors of Seat Safety Switch International, but I don’t really go to the board meetings, whatever dad - to attend his private exhibit of his car collection. Who could pass up such an offer?


As my rotary-swapped Meyers Manx rumbled to a stop, its metalflake no longer shimmering with the augmenting vibrations of the twin Paxton blowers strapped to its rear flanks, I was already unbuckling my six-point restraints. I climbed out, my carbon-fiber-imitation three piece suit taut, its perfectly pressed pleats throwing the impression of enormous success and vast wealth.

The trip to the hangar entrance was short, and I met my host there. Behind him, I could make out under the dim shop light a cavalcade of delicious high-dollar Italian patina-in-waiting. I salivated, naturally, because that’s what you do.

He led me down the rows, making brief note of the weather and other small talk, before at last we arrived at something he considered “quite special.” I tried to remember his name, struggled to match his blurry, unrecognizable face to an office memory. With a practiced flourish, he reached back and pulled the dust cover off of an Alfa. But not just any Alfa. No, this was a Montreal. And it got better from there.

Dear Penthouse Magazine, I never thought it would happen to me, but holy shit some asshole swapped a Detroit Diesel turbo engine into a goddamn Alfa Romeo Montreal. And I could touch it. It was real. I gaped at him in wide-jawed awe.


“Tell you what,” he said, laughing, “I’ll give you the keys in exchange for 51% of the company.”

A lot of people in the business press have called me irresponsible, made fun of my madness, compared me to Carly Fiorina. I fell from my lofty heights as a titan of industry, put thousands out of work, destroyed the American economy and was bankrupted for my troubles. But that’s not the whole truth. I have a really awesome vintage Alfa with a semi-truck engine.