War, Ballet & Divorce

The Problem with Owning a Hypercar

♔ ‘One press of the throttle and your chiropractor gets a new kitchen.’

The Moment of Madness

You’d promised yourself “no more toys.” Then an Italian V12 on YouTube backfired like a cannon, and you were calling your dealer before the music finished.

The Arrival

It turned up on a low-loader with more velvet protection than your wife’s jewellery. The exhaust notes alone caused a Labrador three doors down to leap into a pond.

The First Drive

With great power comes great impracticality. The second gear felt illegal. The third should have come with a helicopter escort. And it was still in comfort mode.

(Read On…..)

Arrival

I just took delivery of the hypercar. It’s red, furious, and mainly made of elements from the periodic table you can’t pronounce. The first drive was… biblical.

Can’t park it. Can’t insure it. Can’t go over speed bumps unless I send a scouting party.

But by God, it’s fast.

Is it worth it? Full story in today’s column.

The Brutal Truth

It doesn’t fit in any car park. Insurance required a small fortune and a blood sample. A chip in the paint meant three men in carbon-fibre aprons flew in from Modena.

The Reality Check

You start using the Range Rover again. It has CarPlay. And doors that shut properly. The hypercar? It becomes a static sculpture in a dehumidified garage.

The Final Word

You love it. But you’re not in love with it.

♔ ‘It sounds like war, handles like ballet, and costs like divorce.’