RYAN LYNHAM IS ALSO A MAN

The Woman in the Yellow Ferrari

I am leaving work on a sunny afternoon. I leave the parking lot with the usual bow to local law by entertaining the idea of a stop at the stop sign, then pull out into the always-barren cul-de-sac, thinking of possibly taking a walk with my wife and daughter through our neighborhood, and potato chips.

And then, just as I kindle the idea of whether it is clever or devious for Utz to invent a barbecue chip called “Maui”, I am staring into a pair of very expensive-looking sunglasses perched on the very lugubrious expression of a woman wrapped tightly in a very yellow Ferrari 360 Modena.

The woman and her artwork on wheels jerk to a halt to avoid collision. Adrenaline. I stare. Drive! Move, you sod! I resume cognitive stability and step on the pedal, moving forward as she follows behind me. Too many thoughts to finish race through my mind:

What kind of money does…Who is…Around here…?

Then thoughts swing toward the man-competitive side: something about how I’m probably a better driver; I’m still driving a stick and she’s in an automatic; a feeling of superiority about her not having any cup holders, then the realization that I don’t either; laughing (inside, of course - one never laughs out loud at the driver of one of these automobiles) at how for so much less money I can fit several more persons and things in my car, then the realization that she could buy 20 of my car if she wanted…

But all these sobering realizations are not enough to stop the adrenaline searing through my bloodstream. I am man! I am fast! I am Bobby Rahal, just in a 1992 Integra with a 1.8 liter four-cylinder at 250,000 miles! I run gears high and long before shifting! I downshift at every stop sign! Skill! Manliness!

I listen to that sweet, slow Honda four-cylinder scream its love song as I drive the fastest 30 MPH home I have ever driven.

“But - but whatever happened to the woman?” you demand, impatient to hear how the tale ends.

“Ah, yes - the woman in the yellow Ferrari!” I reply. “She turned right at the light.”