“I know there was another love before me, but I couldn’t have endured another after.
In fact, lately my feelings had cooled a bit. Last year we didn’t go on trips, races, or even simple walks. Maybe it was the fault of Covid, which didn’t allow us to participate in exciting events. But if I’m being honest, it was also my fault.
After seven years together, I started courting another thoroughbred who had aroused my interest for some time and I did everything to bring her into my stable, thinking she would replace her. Her silence for so many months had almost convinced me that I could do without her.
The newcomer had a boisterous voice, a rash temperament, truly exaggerated forms. In short, she had forcefully invaded our spaces. She, on the other hand, had remained in the shadows, waiting for my interest. Then unexpectedly a few days ago a passionate admirer came forward, declaring that his love for her dated back many years before I met her and that he would be happy to possess her.
After setting a date for a meeting, I began to think that she would need some care after months of almost abandonment. I opened the large doors and immediately the sun of the first almost spring day flooded the garage with light, making her shine in the darkness.
I leaned against her, and she lightly allowed herself to be pushed outside into the full light, as if she wanted to show off all her beauty under the slight veil of dust that covered her. I circle around her, first I touch her lightly, then I touch her, I look at her as if it were the first time, she is truly sexy.
I get into the driver’s seat, turn the ignition key, the electric pump begins to pulse, pushing the gasoline like a lifeblood, at first frantically, then slower and slower until it stops. The carburetor bowls are full. My finger lingers for a moment before pressing the engine start button, it’s the moment of greatest tension, the moment when you’ll know if she’ll accept your invitation or not. A roar, her voice.
I had forgotten how much I liked it. And so off we go. First, second, third, each gear change a new scream that rises higher and higher with increasing revs. Fourth, faster, faster and faster, I lower the passenger side aeroscreen to avoid its turbulence and remain in the aerodynamic cone of mine, I see on the dashboard the plaque that reminds me that my Jaguar XK 120 is the exact replica of the one that set the record of 144 miles per hour at Jabbeke in Belgium and then I floor the accelerator and she generously gives me even more. Fast, very fast, intoxicating. Behind the huge steering wheel the instruments seem to go crazy, the needles seem to want to fly out, the excitement of driving and the air of this February day that whips my face make me tremble. Up, up, even higher. That’s enough, you don’t need to prove any more, I understand the mistake I was about to make. Let’s go home.
We enter the courtyard and find the newcomer, the Lister Jaguar, waiting for us with a fierce look. She is a car, therefore a woman, and she seems annoyed to see me arrive with a radiant face together with the old lady of the house. I’m sorry if, when they’re alone, they exchange not entirely friendly compliments.
I don’t know which one I’ll dedicate more time to, but I know for sure that they’ll have to get used to living together because I won’t give up either of them.”