My ability to lust set in at an early age – 7 maybe. It started with seeing something I’d never seen before on a poster at the book fair. Then there were conversations with the other boys around the lunch table. Of course one of them claimed he had seen one in real life. But, yeah right. The week before he said his uncle was Marc Summers.
One day I knew I would see one for real. I knew this because I was willing to do whatever it took. I was obsessed. Never before had I seen something that made me so tingly to stare at. I discovered something that gave me a reason to live – a reason to press on through the trials of elementary life. I discovered the Lamborghini Countach LP 5000.
The monster erasers, the Mad Libs, the Choose Your Own Adventure books – those were just decoy items. The only thing that really mattered at the book fair was the red Lamborghini parked in front of lightning poster. And the only other thing that mattered was getting it home unblemished. “Stop mom! I don’t want to unwrap it. It’s going to stay on the cardboard and stay shrink-wrapped. Forever”
Sorry girls, but you’ll just never understand the agony of being so close to something yet so far away. You’ll never know the excitement of doors that opened like the wings of an angel. You’ll never know the pleasure of shutting your eyes and imaging yourself stepping out of your very own shiny red spaceship-looking sports car. So many surfaces. So many vents and right angles. At the time, there was nothing more beautiful.
Finally, in middle school it happened. I saw one up close. It only lasted a brief moment, because we were merely driving the speed limit as it zoomed by. It wasn’t red, or even gold like my favorite micro machine. It was yellow. But, it was real. And it was too late. I was 14 now, and I didn’t care. My obsession was over – thanks to the torn out centerfold Michael B had stashed away in his Parcheesi box.
11/09/2009
Seriously