Wednesday, February 24, 2016

     “Ma Joie” means “My Joy.” Mr. Wonderful chose that name for his license plate. Absolument pas—ce n’était pas pour moi. C’était pour la bagnole. Nope, the JOY wasn’t about me; it was about his Porsche Boxster—the love of his life (Il s’appelle Marcel) That’s ok. I am happy to take second place as long as I get to ride in it top down (mine or Joy’s) and can occasionally drive it. (That’s only if I’m home in less than 20 minutes, and I don’t drive it on any main streets.)

     When I gave Mr. W. his Christmas gift, he was mildly excited, but when I saw the look on his face as he walked off the track, I knew that it was money well spent. 

     “The Porsche Driving Experience” is a driver’s school for little boys in little cars who want to go zoom zoom. Their friends at home don’t care that they learn about how to handle the vehicle going around cones or skidding across a span of wet cement. All they will want to know is “How fast did you go?” After careening around the curves of the Autobahn at 150 mph with yours truly hanging on for my life a couple of years ago, he has nothing left to prove. 80-100 mph is child’s play (appropriate for the male children involved here).

     I stood above in the gourmet restaurant (before it opened) and tried to take as many photos as possible of the carrot-sized red Boxster below as it sailed around the rain-drenched track. It was like watching a cartoon—so much testosterone—so little sunshine. 

     After the driving event itself, due to the rain, the staff offered Mr. Wonderful a free 30-minute thrill on a road-course simulator. Mr. Wonderful took off his jacket and shoes and climbed into the pretend car. I left and waited upstairs while he maneuvered and perspired his way around the virtual track pretending to be Roger Penski. He emerged from the simulator smiling and hyped.

     We debated about spending  a small fortune on the gourmet lunch in the fancy dining room, but I said, “We have to do the whole thing.” So up we climbed to the cocktail-lounge-type ultra-modern dining room where we proceeded to go cheap and order just the first course. The bill was only $47, but that included tip. (See menu)

     All in all, it was a wonderful experience for the hubby, and I felt very pleased that I gave him a gift of memory and excitement he will never forget.

     I was very disappointed, however, that I couldn’t justify buying the Porsche racing bear at $270. I need a new blouse, after all.

P.S.  Notice that driving instructor next to Mr.W. was all of 22 years old, complete with zits. Notice also that Mr. W's eyes appear to be closed. Hmm.