ADRENALINE RUSH
There’s a Pagani Huayra Roadster sitting out in the early morning sun awaiting me. Crouched like an enormous, midnight blue cicada, silent and still in the Napa Valley mist. Dew glimmering on herringbone-patterned carbon fiber coachwork. Elegant lines easy on the eye belying the power that obviously lies beneath. Ready to spring forward into the wind. Ready to fly. There’s no signature symphony from her wings and vents yet as she rests in a peaceful slumber. But when she fires up, every petrolhead for miles around will know and be beckoned by her siren call. A symphony crescendoing to philharmonic levels when she’s in full flight. A steampunk cacophony complete with timpani, tuba, horns, drums and whistling flutes, which reverberates your internal organs and resonates in your soul.
An otherworldly creature; sounding like Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang tuned by Beelzebub with bespoke parts from Back
