I had assumed we all drove on the same road. We do not.
In the S6, I experienced a zone of privacy I’d never known in an automobile. I’m saying that other people on the road, other cars, ceased to exist in any meaningful way. When I drive now, I drive my beater amidst the throngs. Shoulder to shoulder with the madding crowd.
In the S6, I removed myself from the pack. All packs. I did this by simply pressing on the gas.
I liked watching people recede in the rearview. I pitied them. Not so much the working stiffs in their junkers. Most of them didn’t even look my way. To them I was just another rich asshole in a fast car. The ones I pitied were the cats in pretty nice cars. The dudes in older BMWs. The guys in lesser Audis. The bit players in their shiny yet slower coupes. Oh, brother, those guys broke my heart.
But not nearly so bad as I broke theirs.
Here’s another thing I learned in the S6: I dig classic rock.
You know what rocks the S6? Foghat.
In the S6, one digs the rock that rocks.