Sometimes this blog feels like a small child that has been left in the basement to play with fireworks, explosives, power tools and firearms - so much potential but oh so neglected.
I had the absolute sheer joy of piloting a fuck off bad boy vehicle at the weekend. Due to a trusting and benevolent employer who is having a few license issues I was allowed to swipe his black brand spanking new bad boy Audi RS4 convertible to head up the hunter valley for the weekend with my significant other.
For those not in the know this car is the thinking mans muscle car. Where your average bogan gets wet for a shitty commodore with a V8 or a boring vintage Mustang your modern existential contrarian gets a jolt of visceral joy from the RS4. Driving this biatch with the top down, fat bass heavy tunes blaring on a Saturday arvo in the sunshine was pure egomaniacal rev head joy. This car eats up the road like Roseanne Barr with the munchies and sticks to the tarmac like its on rails. The best part of the whole deal is the roar the finely tuned v8 makes when you (carefully) floor it in sports mode out of the lights or onto the motorway. The sound of those 8 cylinders purring makes you feel like Audi have captured and shackled eight of those dragons from lord of the rings and stuffed them under the hood and they are not happy about it. Driving this car has ruined me for life as its unlikely I can get one any time soon being that its worth about a third of the price of my house.
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