I was relaxing. Just cruising down the freeway into the setting sun in a 2006 Aston Martin DB9 Volante. I was enjoying the cool evening air and the wind running through my (short) hair when not surprisingly, my car shook while being passed by the screaming baritone sound of a Ferrari F430 Spider followed up with the low, eardrum bursting roar of the passing five hundred and fifty horsepower Ford GT. Two seconds later, I witnessed one of the most uncanny moments in my entire thirty-five years on this Earth. While executing a pass of a slower vehicle that was squatting in the left lane, the driver of the Ford GT (still accelerating) over-corrected while re-entering the “fast” lane causing a massive chain reaction that I’ll not soon forget.

How did I get here? How did I end up driving a $175,000 luxury convertible instead of my truck? It all began with an article that I read in a car magazine. “Feel like a million bucks for $995″, it read. “Wow, that sounds interesting”, I thought. “I feel at least a hundred thousand shy of that right now.” So I read more. “…a company that provides a day of driving in a million dollars worth of exotic cars for $995.”, “For that amount, you get to drive a Ferrari F430, as well as these special machines: an Aston Martin DB9 Volante, a Bentley Continental GT, a Corvette Z06, a Ford GT, and a Lamborghini Gallardo”. I went to the company’s website in a futile attempt to locate an event within driving distance. There were several events closer than six hours away, but every single one was already full. I signed up for their email information list and promptly forgot about it.

Fast forward four months (a week and a half ago). After waking up, I grabbed a mug of fresh coffee and per my normal morning routine, went into my home office to check my email. There was an email in my inbox from the Exotic Car Company (not their real name). “Oh yeah, I forgot about that”, I thought. The important part of the email read, “Oct 6th – Phoenix, AZ – still available”. After discussing it with Jamey, I went to their website and signed up.

I was instructed via email to show up at a swanky resort ten minutes from my house at noon two days later. When I arrived, I was full of nervous excitement. They made an imprint of my credit card, took notice of my driver’s license, presented me with a waiver of liability to sign, and informed me that there is a five thousand dollar deductible for any damage that I cause to the vehicles. “Okay! Where do I sign again?”, I said excitedly before walking over to the lunch buffet and making myself a sandwich.

With lunch in hand, I approached an almost full table of other participants and asked for permission to sit down before introducing myself. They were a good group of guys; two local residents (one from Chandler and the other from Goodyear), two other men who were from Calgary, and another who visits often from Pittsburgh. While eating our lunch and waiting almost two hours for the introductory briefing to begin, we discussed work and family, quickly followed by car stories. I felt most comfortable with the locals, Don and Craig (not their real names). Don said that he has some amateur racing experience and visits the local track almost monthly. When the briefing began, I sat with them again.

The briefing was given by a representative of the company, and a professional racecar driver, of European descent (let’s call him Jean Claude) who would be leading our excursion in the form of a rented Pontiac Grand Prix. The main purpose of the briefing was to tell us the rules. They were:

• No burnouts.
• No disabling of the traction/stability control.
• No Speeding/Obey the speed limits.
• Do not pass the pace car.
• If someone gets a ticket/has an accident/has a breakdown, everyone else should stay with the group and not stop. The chase car would stop and assist anyone who needed it.
• No racing or aggressive driving.

In the same briefing, Jean Claude piped up and said that speeding they can explain to the police, but racing will get the vehicles impounded. I cocked my head to the side in bewilderment when he said this, because not even five minutes earlier they pointed out the “No speeding” rule. In any case, they asked for questions after the briefing, there were none, and we adjourned to the cars.

I started out as a passenger in a red with white racing stripes 2006 Ford GT with the aforementioned Craig at the wheel. The operator of the Exotic Car Company came by and gave Craig some pointers before we left the parking lot. He said that someone had been involved in an accident in this same car because they power-shifted it from first to second gears and spun it into a wall or something. So, basically, don’t do that. Secondly, the “check engine” light was on, but it was erroneous, so just to ignore that. Lastly, he pointed out that the speedometer no longer worked. While almost reclining (the default seating position) in the passenger seat, I thought to myself “what a piece of crap”. Then I said it aloud. Craig hit the starter button and we were off.

All six vehicles in our caravan made a quick stop for fuel nearby (where I noticed the gas gauge needed a percussive adjustment in order to operate properly) and we were off again. I found out three things in the next twenty minutes: one, The Ford GT is very fast. Two, it’s geared really tall. You can go more than sixty (I read later, since the speedometer didn’t work. But it was very apparent) miles per hour in first gear. Third, Craig was not too smooth operating the controls, but he was a really nice guy and fun to talk to (and someone with whom to giggle like a school girl while under hard acceleration). Soon, it was my turn at the wheel of the GT and Craig went off to drive the 2007 Corvette Z06.

Upon reflection, in the next twenty minutes, I may have inadvertently started the whole escalation of speed that played out over the course of the day. I know my driving limits and almost always stay within those parameters. So when I say that while still remaining behind the pace car and briefly had the GT wound out in third gear (approx. 120 MPH), there were no worries about being out of control. The GT was very cramped quarters inside, and the seating position was very reclined. I liked the light clutch and shifter, but it required a decent amount of concentration in order to find the proper gear with each change. During this time I surmised that Jean Claude was not terribly concerned about himself or any of us obeying the speed limit. I could tell this day was going to be ripping good fun.

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Before I knew it, it was my turn to be a passenger again. Riding with Craig for a second time, were were placed in a black-on-black 2006 Lamborghini Gallardo. I was happy to see that this particular example had the gated 6-speed manual instead of Lamborghini’s E-Gear sequential manual transmission as I’ve always wanted to try out a gated shifter in an Italian sports car. The first thing we noticed about this car is that when you get the revs somewhere up above four thousand, it’s loud. Loud in a good way. The engine note was much more pleasing and musical than I was expecting. For some reason, because I knew of Audi’s (Lamborghini’s current owner) involvement in this model, I was expecting the sounds emanating from the V-10 engine’s exhaust to sound less Italian; more German. It was pure Italian. With an all wheel drive system donated by Audi and five hundred horsepower, this car is exceedingly fast, especially from a dead stop.

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Almost careening into Fountain Hills from the north, it was a harrowing experience for me as Craig continued his hard-shifting ways, but doing it now in corners at triple digit speeds threatening to upset the line of the car. As we entered Fountain Hills, the caravan of expensive and outlandish vehicles loudly announced their presence with the howling, snorting, and popping of fifty-eight cylinders and 3,042 combined horsepower. Within a mile we attracted the attention of local law enforcement. As we drove slowly through town, the peace officer rolled up to each of us one-by-one to give a verbal warning. I don’t know what he said to the others, but as he trundled next to us, matching our slow speed, he said, “that’s a nice looking car, but you need to slow it down. People are complaining.” I’m still not quite sure who these people are. The telepathic? Nobody who heard us within his jurisdiction could’ve even dialed the phone before then!

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Our new friend stayed with us all the way through town. When we made our stop on the south end of town to swap drivers, he stopped at the far end of the parking lot in order to observe us. My turn in the Lambo. I pulled onto Shea Boulevard at the back of the group, directly followed by the police, and then the chase vehicle. We headed down the freeway towards the turn-off to go to Saguaro Lake, which is about an eight mile jaunt. After about a mile, the police officer, no longer able to hold off his urge, made an about face and headed back into town for some donuts. It was during this small stretch that I decided to explore fourth gear. The Gallardo is a great car and amazingly enough and against Lamborghini tradition seems to be assembled well.

Once again, it was my time to ride. This time with Craig driving the Bentley Continental GT. Our ride through the twisties in the Saguaro Lake area was relatively uneventful except that I was a little overheated and Craig was jerking the car around the corners rather than smoothly carving them. With all this ancillary movement, I was beginning to feel motion sick. Luckily we stopped before I felt too sick.

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Finally, it was my turn to drive the object (or at least the brand of the object) of my desire since the age of seven. That was when I first saw a newspaper ad for a Ferrari 308 and fell in love. I got into the Ferrari F430 Spider and familiarized myself with the controls, which went quickly since I’ve scrutinized every article I’ve ever read about it. Don climbed in next to me before I depressed the engine start button and got in line right behind Jean Claude still driving the pace car.

This car is magical. It’s like nothing I’ve ever driven, not even the Lamborghini that I got out of 30 minutes earlier. The steering is so direct and communicative that it felt as if I were skimming my hand across the top of the road surface. That part was spooky really, as I’ve never experienced that before. Since this was the convertible version of the F430, the glorious engine sound was loud. I had to check behind me several times as It sounded as if a brass band were following on my rear bumper. This section of the drive, by Saguaro Lake, was a great place to drive the Ferrari. There are lots of twists and turns and elevation changes.

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The F430 we drove was equipped with the “F1″ sequential manual gearbox, which is operated through paddles located behind the steering wheel. With the car set in race mode (via an anodized aluminum knob on the steering wheel) and you pull the upshift paddle, the clutch is taken in by servos, the next gear is selected, and the perfect amount of throttle is given while the clutch is let out at the perfect rate of speed. All that happens in 150 ms (that’s .15 seconds). Amazing! On downshifts, the computer “blips” the throttle to match the RPM’s, better than I can do it most of the time. The mode selector on the wheel also affects shock dampening. This is done by using shocks that are filled with a special magnetic fluid whose viscosity can change very rapidly when an applied electric current is varied. This amazing technology is licensed from Delco of all people. My ride in the Ferrari was reasonably short; probably only fifteen minutes, but it can be summed up as awesome!

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After having to get my out of the Ferrari with a stick, I was relegated to driving the black 2007 Corvette Z06. This is a car that has received a lot of press attention in the past six months or so. The newest incarnation of the Z06 model of the Corvette has a 7.0 liter (427 cubic inches) small-block 90 degree push-rod V-8. This is an old-school style engine, there is nothing tremendously fancy or refined about it. It has 505 horsepower, which is only 15 more than the Ferrari, whose extremely sophisticated engine is only 4.3 liters. That extra displacement pays dividends in the torque department though, giving the Corvette a 127 lb-ft. advantage over the Ferrari (470 vs. 343).

The transmission in the Z06 is “rubbish” as they would say on my favorite TV show Top Gear. Locating third gear in this car is only slightly easier than locating Jimmy Hoffa. Granted, I was only allowed to drive this car for a short period of time, but in that time, under hard acceleration, I made a 1-2-5 shift twice! No similar mistakes were made by me in any of the other vehicles that day. I also hit fifth gear from sixth while trying to find third. Surprisingly, my impression of this car was that it was the most delicate of the six. While it was extremely fast (when I was able to find third gear), it felt cheap and unrefined. Maybe I’m being too hard in my judgment. It was almost $100k less than the next cheapest car. I wouldn’t even consider buying one though.

Now back on the freeway, still driving the Z06, I passed a pair of fellow drivers standing on the shoulder next to the black Lamborghini. They seemed to be inspecting something on the right side and gave me a curt “we’re okay” wave as I drove by. Remembering the instructions from the briefing, I kept going as I knew the chase car would stop to assist them. A few miles further, at the freeway exit where we were to turn north again, stood Jean Claude to inform us that we’d be turning around to retrieve the occupants of the Lamborghini as they’d blown a tire at a speed somewhere north of the century mark.

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The convoy reversed course and rapidly made it back to the disabled Italian’s location. Since the Lamborghini either doesn’t have a spare tire, or they just didn’t want to go through the trouble of changing the tire, the operators of the event opted to call a flat-bed to take the car to the nearest Discount Tire and have everyone load up in the remaining cars and continue as planned. As we were getting settled into our vehicles for the next leg, I asked Craig as he walked by, if he wanted to ride with me in the DB9. He politely declined as he hurriedly made his way into the passenger seat of the Ford GT which his friend Don was piloting.

After finding a clear spot in the freeway traffic, the group rolled on. I let Don in the Ford go ahead of me, which I’m not sure was wise; since I was in a convertible and apparently Don was not tremendously adroit at operating a manual transmission, I ended up trying to hold my breath as I drove through a cloud of smoke created by his clutch-work. About the time I accelerated to, and settled on a speed that would not cause me to get a ticket, the Ferrari downshifted and lurched forward towards the sunset. Several seconds later, the Ford GT did the same. This type of driving had been happening all day, so it didn’t come as a surprised to me when I saw that they were rapidly widening the gap between them and myself. That gap soon turned out to be useful. Very useful.

Suddenly, my afternoon drive was rudely interrupted by the startling sound of tires fighting for traction on pavement. A hundred yards ahead of me, travelling at a very rapid speed, was the Ford GT; currently sideways, the backend poised to take the lead. As it crossed the median into oncoming traffic, the tail of the car took out a street sign and kicked up a giant cloud of dust. Before my view of the car was completely obscured by the looming cloud, I was able to see that the Ford had made a complete revolution and was now pointed into traffic! As I was shockingly taking all this in, I simultaneously applied my brakes, steered towards the right shoulder, watched traffic in my reear-view mirror making sure neither the Z06 nor the Bentley would run up into me, and winced waiting for the “crash” for the other side to come. I saw several vehicles in the oncoming lanes veer every which way in order to pardon the sudden intrusion into their lanes. Amazingly Don, the driver of Ford GT, still using his forward momentum was able to bring his car back to the proper side and to a halt on the inside shoulder. The oncoming traffic had split and missed him completely!

Shocked and awed, now driving slowly on the right shoulder, I looked into the now stopped GT as I rolled by. Don and Craig looked like they’d just shook hands and said hello to the Grim Reaper. In that small window of time when I was still driving slow, I had an internal debate as to what I should do next. Should I stop? I know they’re okay. Am I required by law to stop? I don’t think so since I wasn’t actually involved in the accident. Should I keep going as instructed in the briefing this morning? I suppose so, since nobody seemed injured and I’m driving a car that’s not mine and costs more than my first home.

A few miles further down the road, the Ferrari and pace car were stopped, occupants already emerging from their vehicles, in the same location as where we turned around for the Lamborghini. Jean Claude had already received a phone call from the people in the chase car informing him that they’d be staying behind with Don, Craig, the Ford GT, and the local law enforcement who had already arrived on the scene. As the Z06 and Bentley arrived and parked behind me, I explained exactly what had happened to Jean Claude. I told him that there was a huge, scary, mess but I didn’t see anyone get hurt. Armed with that information, Jean Claude made the decision to head back to the hotel.

Not wanting to draw any “unwanted attention”, comically making an attempt to keep a low-profile we crawled back to the hotel; making two stops to change drivers. Lucky for me, the only thing I hadn’t driven yet was the Bentley (I’ve driven one previously). I changed into the Bentley for the last leg back to the hotel, which brought me within a quarter mile of home. I rolled down the windows and just enjoyed the serenity of that car. I really needed it.

Over a beer in the hotel bar, while waiting for our pictures and “certificates” to be ready, the other drivers and I recounted the events of the day and discussed our experiences in each of the vehicles. The Ferrari was the hands-down favorite of the group. Within an hour, besides Jean Claude and the operators of the event, I was the only person remaining. It was surreal to see the only remaining photos and certificates on the table were those of Don and Craig. As I was about the leave, the driver of the chase car, Don, and Craig walked in.

Either they had thoroughly been chastised for driving out of control or maybe it was just the pure shock of the “event”; possibly both, but they appeared almost catatonic. Two guys who only a few short hours ago had been outgoing, upbeat, and almost boisterous men, now seemed just a shell of their former selves. They looked scared. I approached them and let them know that I was worried for their safety and was happy to see that they were okay. Don repeatedly assured me, as if trying to convince himself, that they were “very, very fortunate” while Craig nodded in acknowledgement without saying a word. Maybe it’s because nobody was injured, or maybe the driver of the chase car has Jedi mind control powers, but somehow Don left the scene un-ticketed! I couldn’t, and still can’t believe it. Something else that is unbelievable is that the Ford GT returned to the hotel on its own power. The rear was damaged from hitting the sign, the wheels and tires were dirty from spinning through the dirt median, but otherwise the car was unscathed.

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So what did I take away from this experience?

1. American performance cars, while as fast as their brethren from the other side of the ocean, still cannot compete in quality, class, refinement, or soul.
2. Don’t ride in a super car with anyone that you don’t know and trust with your life.
3. In the words of Don, we were very, very, fortunate.