Tonight I made a mistake: I rode in a car with considerably more power than my beloved Bonneville. Which automobile was guilty of subverting my vehicular morals? None other than a bright red 2000 Trans Am Firehawk. When the 5.7L v-8 comes to life, you know you’re dealing with something special. The motor purrs like a kitten at idle, gradually growing to a fortissimo cougar scream at redline. And the acceleration? Kevin, my Brother who bought the car, was kind enough to take me for a ride which included several spirited runs to the happy side of 80 mph. The feeling was incredible. Downshift. Gas. Backside glued solidly to seat. Lurch forward slightly as we approach redline and shift. More gas. Repeat as necessary for an on-demand endorphin rush.

Why was it a mistake? It was a mistake because everything else feels woefully underpowered now. As a result, I find myself lusting after fast cars (more than usual, that is). I feel that I must have a fast sports car. I’m sure the urge will subside in a few days. Until then, I’ll hear that engine in my dreams.