Greasy Hamburger

Turning slowly, hardly unable to believe what I was seeing. I let it fill my senses with awe. There is sat, grumbling, inches from the ground, perfect and beautiful: a Ferrari Tesstarossa. Now you may say to me, as many have, big deal? It’s just a car, dude. No. It’s no just a car. A Ferrari isn’r just a car. The difference between a car and a Ferrari is monumental. Ferrari’s are the physical incarnation of dreams: perfect and amazing and untouchable. The fact that so few people can own them and the odds of coming into possession of enough money to buy one are so slim, only increase a Ferrari’s allure and mystique. Owning one is like joining an elite club whose members are the patent leather and Ray-Ban clad rich and famous. This moment, me standing on the curb with my mouth hanging open, is when I decided that I would own one-that someday I would join those distinguished ranks. I ran out into the street, over the median and into stopped traffic and stood directly behind it. It was intoxicating. The legendary silver horse of Ferrari gleamed in the night as the lights from the car behind me struck it. I looked up to see the driver of the Ferrari eyeing me in the rear view mirror. “What in the hell is he doing?” But as an owner, you are required to expect this sort of reaction. The traffic light up ahead turned green. The Ferrari pulled away, singing like an electric mixer. It took a left at the light and disappeared. I wiped my sweating hands on my shirt and closed my mouth. My sister was staring at me from her post at the counter. I looked at her in shock. “Did you, did you see that?” The guy at the counter and the cook were all smiles. I walked back to them in a daze. “A Tesstarossa, yeah?” asked the cook. “Yep, I’m pretty sure it was. That was nice.” Wow; a Tesstarossa. Then, I had no clue as to what kind it was. All I knew is that it was something very special. The sights, smells and sounds that I experienced that night will remain with me forever. It was my first encounter with the exotic. Seeing my first Ferrari has impacted me more than any other single random event in my entire life. It is that first Ferrari, out of the millions of dollars worth of Italian super car that I have seen, which has impacted me the most. It realigned my perceptions about my life and caused cars to become a major part of my life. For that, I would like to thank the mysterious driver of that Tesstarossa who drove through on that warm summer night in Lake George-you have changed me. But it is the cook behind that greasy hamburger stand who persuaded me to buy one of his dripping patties that I want to thank the most. Without that cook, whose face and name I can’t remember, Ferraris may never have come into my life.