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The Drive
It was the year 1965, and I had just been completed. I was in Rome about to be tested for the first time. Although I did not know it at the time, this was a world-renowned test track, and only Ferraris were ever tested here. I was about to have the time of my life.
“Testing, Testing” Announcer.


“Car 409342, get ready.” Announcer.
“Go!” Announcer.

“Rooooom, Roooom RAAAAAAAAAAAAAh!”
I sped at the speed of light around the track. I was doing tricks that I did not even know were possible. The driver handled me like a beauty. At 120 mph, I was a bullet out of a gun speeding so fast that I couldn’t even see the surroundings.
“Brake on three drivers” Loudspeaker
“One, Two, Three”
“Braaaaaaaaakkkkkkeeeee.”
With all my might I braked as hard as I could and was a Ferris wheel, spinning and sliding all over the place. When I finally stopped, I heard the driver mumble, “I love my job,” as he drove me back inside
Driver “This car is a keeper. It’s going to America next week.”
Don “Okay, drive it into the shipping crate”


It had been two months since I had experienced the heavenly feeling of sunlight. For weeks, I had been rocking around like a baby in a cradle. I was aching to feel the asphalt of the roads once again. Finally, I felt the ship come to a screeching halt. I waited a couple of minutes and realized that workers were strapping things to my crate. Suddenly, I felt a crane lift me off the ship and into the heavens. Next, I was gently placed onto a dock. The workers scrambled to pry my crate open. Then I was loaded into a truck and driven to a new location. I wondered to myself, why would another vehicle drive me, when I can drive myself?





















As the truck approached our stop, I was unloaded and pushed into a super sheik showroom. The sign read “UPTOWN SPORTS CARS MANHATTAN” I was surrounded by other cars like Bentleys, Maseratis, and Lamborghinis. The exquisite super shiny floor was like a mirror and reflected my cherry red racing paintjob perfectly. Now, all I had to do was to be purchased by the right person.
One day, a city slicker walked into the showroom, with a wad of cash in his pocket, which were taller, then my rims, and began talking to the dealer. He pointed to me. The dealer then exchanged me for the wad of cash. Then, a group of workers pushed me through the back alley, handed the man the keys and we drove off.

As we were driving, I was all ears, listening to my new owner talking on the phone. His name was Scott and he was a wealthy car enthusiast. He had a wife named Kate, and two children. He also owned a private racetrack in Buffalo, New York. As soon as I saw his house, I was in awe. I thought to myself, I must have cost an arm and a leg. Then, I saw Scott get out and open the garage. I was transfixed by the chrome floor. He drove me up into the garage and walked into his house. From then on, I knew that I had found a good owner. That day I felt like the best car in the world.


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