[Neat]

First memory of a vette was a 79 that my parents owned. The car was only a few years old in my earliest memories of it, and it was amazing looking. Two tone grey with the Rally wheels, it looked really sharp. Sometimes when I'd ride in it with my Dad he would say something to effect of, "Ready? It's time to turn on the turbo." Then he'd flip a switch on the dash, and a green light would come on. That meant it was time to party, and he'd floor the throttle. It turns out the "turbo" light was the rear window defroster, but as a kid that was the coolest thing.

Years later, when I was teenager, my Dad brought home the 91 ZR-1 I own now. Totally different kind of love affair to me. It was this amazing thing, nearly mythical in proportion. It was as if my Dad were Carl Denham and he had brought King Kong back from Skull island and stored him in the garage. The 8th wonder of the world resided in a medium sized garage in the middle of Nowhere, Montana. I'd try to talk about it to other kids, other kids who were into cars, and I just never could convey the absolute wonder that I felt the car deserved. In retrospect, my infatuation with the car was beyond what any reasonable person would have understood, but the immense stature of the car was absolutely real in my mind. To me, the ZR-1 in the garage was it, the Alpha and the Omega, this omnipotent thing of indescribable power and bravado. It was, without a doubt in my mind, the fastest car in the world. And God help you if you shared a class, a bus ride, a weekend, an evening, or any other amount of time with the 15 year old version of me and didn't wholeheartedly agree.