Bill Comes Up With Greatest Metaphor For Ferrari Ownership

If you want to get to the metaphor right away, and it is classic, go to the bottom of the post because I first have to relate the experience that led to this revelation. Some of you may recall the time I ran my 400A through the car wash at the Shell station and was nonplussed to discover the plugs fouled due to water encroaching through the louvers in the hood. I believe I endured several comments here in the nature of 'you idiot' and 'are you nuts.' To my credit,the lesson was not lost, as ever-since I have taken care to cover these louvers during periodic sponge-offs. Anyway, it was time for a full detailing, so I took the car to a high-end garage that,while not handling Ferrari, gets a lot of nice cars. During a meeting of the minds outside the service department, I told the owner, his assistant,and the owner's leering son, let's call him Darrell Jr. (pseudonym), to cover the louvers at all costs. In retrospect, I realize they were not listening because the Ferrari was having an effect on them similar to a viewing of Anna Nicole Smith at her best in the nude. When I called yesterday to see if Anna Nicole was ready, I was informed that, no, L.J. HAD NOT STARTED ON IT YET. Can you feel the tragedy unfold? That's right, Darrell Jr. got pulled off the job and L.J. felt up Anna Nicole without covering her louvers.
So there I go again, up and down the Interstate, up and down the Interstate, trying to get the ******* plugs to be nice and clean themselves. At the end of this torture, the car is running at about 95 percent which as Ferrari owners we all know is equivalent to 0 percent. Still,I maintained some degree of equlibrium , and went out this morning to run it again, but as most of you have guessed by now, it was too late. So offended was the vehicle at having its plugs watered by L.J., that the gear shift lever won't budge from park. After calling my Ferrari mechanic and being instructed to get the bezel off the console, peer down into the teeming mechanical hell beneath and try to figure out how to 'disengage the teeth,' I broke one of the plastic clips on the bezel, finally got it off, and, donning protective goggles, peered into that horror of wire, grease, nicely cast metal parts and, it must be said, a cobweb or two. That's when I started laughing. That's when the metaphor struck. I called the mechanic back and said 'Jimmy, we all know this is too much for me. We both knew before we started talking 'bezels' and 'linkages' that you'd have to come out to the house and do this. But I have realized one thing, and you can tell your prospective customers considering buying a Ferrari what it's really like to own one, how the pleasure and the misery and the thrill and the struggle combine into one unified exerience: It's like trying to land Moby Dick.' Best regards, Capt. Ahab

 

Another excellent metaphor. The struggle is the thing.