Even if I go to hell
Nissan 370Z GT Edition
Max pulled on his jacket with his left hand, grimacing. He held the phone in his right hand: it felt warm and greasy after the long conversation. He had to take over to his left hand, so he could slip into the other arm. At that moment, the mobile moved a bit further away from his head, and he accidentally hang up with his ear.
“Sorry, Sir, the line was cut off,”- Max's disciplined voice echoed in the staircase. He walked heavily down the steps, stopping at the turn. The timer switched the lights off and the factory building turned completely dark.
“The analysis will be in your inbox by tomorrow morning, Sir.” The tone of his words could barely hide the fact that his knuckles were turning white. “Good night, Sir”.
Stepping out of the building, he felt a strong desire to smash his phone to the ground. With clenched teeth, however, he put it back in his pocket. It was his impeccable discipline that delivered him to the top level of this fancy, renovated old-school industrial building. He was famous for working overtime, his subordinates suspected that sometimes he stays in the office all night. But today, at about 10 PM, he couldn't stand the four walls, where he had spent the bigger part of his life over the last few years. He had to get some fresh air.
As the hot mobile in his pocket touched his limb, he kicked into the air with rage. It was one of those moments when he deeply hated the company. It was eating up his whole life. But as he looked up, his mind eased. Here it stood, – his reward after this murderous day.
Inhale the good, exhale the bad. He stepped towards the Z with a deep sigh. His reward – in every sense. He bought it from the bonus which was given for last year's record income, and he honestly felt that he deserved itHhe traded his good for nothing GS at once for a Prius+, which was better at absorbing the noise of the kids , and Anna also preferred it to the Lexus. Since then, he hasn't wanted to get out of the 370Z. He adored it.
So, he didn't want to hurt it now. He didn't take off with two thick black stripes on the cobbles behind him, although he very much felt doing so. The engine was cold, at least the oil temperature gauge, his favourite instrument leering from the middle of the dashboard, showed so. He put the lever into D and rolled out of the yard almost silently, with the engine idling.
He had to smile, because D reminded him, how his mates guffawed when they discovered that he had bought a sports car with an auto box. “Don't buy any more canned food, this is the final phase.” Of course he wouldn't have even touched it without trying it out first. He knew that a proper car not only drove at the rear end, it also had three pedals. His first one was an RX-7, he loved that one too, until the engine went kaput. Then he bought a Bimmer, a 2002 tii, with a gear stick, naturally. So sad, that rust destroyed it completely. Nevertheless he still remembered the two-door sedan of his wild twenties with sweet nostalgia.
Then came Anna and later the kids, and in the meantime he fought his way up to the board of managers, but these things didn't kill his passion for cars at all. So far, however, he had to be satisfied with the fake sportiness of the Lexus. He was looking for a better solution, but he couldn't find it. He had a strange feeling about keeping two cars, but it disappeared at the moment the bonus fell into his lap. Incidentally, on that very day, Jack called him, the Nissan guy who delivered the Qashqai for the company. Jack was a good lad, he knew how to suck up to Max: he never forgot to tell him, when an interesting car turned up at his dealership. “Why don't you try the new GT Edition, Max? Come on, give it a bash! You'll see, this new suspension has turned the Z into another car.”
Now, he had the same pitiful grin on his face that Jack couldn't see on the phone, but this time it was for his mates. Yeah, some stickers on the doors and a full-blown package for a discount price to boost the sales at the end of the model cycle – Max knew the auto business just well enough. But Jack talked him into dropping by after work one afternoon.
Since he tried the Roadster once, he didn't believe in the 370Z: in his memories it was an excessively strong, stupidly hard, overweight car. You had to wrestle with it for each and every corner, kick the overly hard clutch and brutally drag the stick for every gear-change. Naturally, Jack forgot to say on the phone, that the GT Edition he had was an automatic. Nevertheless he took it for a spin. And now he's sitting in his own.
At the petrol station he preferred not to look at the counter. He absent-mindedly let it run, he knew it too well that burning a gallon for less than fifteen miles is extravagance. But why possess a 3.7 litre V6 with 328 PS and not let it run wild? He won't toddle around just to reach 20 mpg.
“ Card or cash?”
“ Card. And some fags, please.” He gave up smoking after secondary school, but now he's started binging again. After this hell of a day he needed some breathing exercise. He took the longer way home to the suburbs, because he had a favourite place, where he usually stopped for a smoke nowadays.
The cigarette sizzled, as Max inhaled the first drag. He felt the nicotine diffusing intensively in his body members. He enjoyed how his arms started to relax, and he could switch off for a moment. He stared down on the lights of the city, and the adolescent joy of smoking secretly triggered a switch in him. The kids are already sleeping, Anna is dozing in front of some TV series. They wouldn't notice any difference, if he came home while they were asleep. Why shouldn't he go for a ride with the Z? Just for fun, like in the old days, with the Bimmer. God, when was the last time he did some prank like this?