Driving away.
Driving through Providence in slow traffic yesterday, I came up behind a Lamborghini Murcielago edging his way along. I didn't have a camera, but would have shot a movie if I did. The Lambo was snarling nicely, and leaping ahead in little spurts as traffic allowed.
I leapt, too, staying, well, not on his tail, but as close as wariness about tail-ending 200,000 bucks worth of fragile aluminum and carbon fibre allowed.
Along with leaps forward, the Lambo was making sudden bobs and weaves, kind of like a drunken sailor on his way back to the ship. When the street widened as it headed up College Hill, traffic thinned and sped up.
Winter takes a heavy toll of the streets in cash strapped Providence. Potholes erupt, manhole covers sink, such repair patches as actually get made quickly revert to strip mines
We snarled up the hill -- well, the Lambo snarled, the Audi, awed by its glam cousin, kept pretty quiet. And Betty and I witnessed a dramatic demonstration of lightning-swift steering response.
Following other traffic, the Lamborghini got virtually no warning of upcoming pitfalls.
Back and forth the steel grey bolide snapped, dodging left, zinging right; swerving to straddle that manhole, leaping right to avoid this Texas-sized pothole; jerking left, right, left through a trio of raised patches. Never leaving his lane, the driver was flicking through instant lefts and rights and getting a response from the car that was amazing to watch.
Obviously, with the Lambo's maybe two inches of ground clearance, a manhole cover depressed by two inches means expensive scraping noises. Serious potholes, the ones with sharp edges and China-seeking depths with which our streets are amply endowed, could mean a broken wheel or a major oil spill.
After a mile or so, the Lambo swung off onto a smooth side street up an even steeper hill. With a shout of "Free at last!" it disappeared singing a siren song of climbing revs,
Lewis
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