A limited life

Hello. My name is VIN# 0101200601, but my owner likes to call me his Chevrolet Corvette. Sometimes, he calls me his baby and I let him. I like the times he shows affection towards me.

I am a 2006 Corvette Zo6. My engine provides me with 505 horses and with my six speed transmission I can reach 60 mph in my first gear within 4 seconds. I can then go on to reach 200 mph if given enough space and time. This makes me somewhat of a Supercar. I was born in United States but I spent the major time of my important years on the Nurburgring race track in Germany. Now I am back in the states and belong to him. He got me early this year.

Life was good when he and I drove out of the showroom. My racing red color glistened in the American sun. I was taken every where and almost every time. His friends swooned over me while his parent’s disapproved of me at first but then slowly gave in. His girlfriend hated my harsh ride and preferred to ride in his second car, the Jeep Cherokee. Its fine, I never liked her anyways.

It was then an odd summer’s day when my life completely turned around. He and I were on our way to New York and crossing through the state of Ohio. On seeing a completely empty stretch of interstate he decided to have some fun. I could sense him asking for all my horses and all my torque. It had been a while since we had done this and I was excited. So I caved in and gave him everything I had. Within seconds we were pushing over 120 mph and I was on way towards the 150 mark when suddenly he demanded brakes. A tad disappointed, I quickly followed his command and used my race tuned calipers to slow myself down. It was then I realized that we were pulled over by an Ohio State trooper.

It been almost three months since then and I find myself headed towards depression. Ever since that incident, he drives me at the speed limit, if not five lower. Our relationship has lost all forms of excitement. I haven’t used my full torque since that day. I yearn for my Nurburgring days when I experienced high lateral forces and huge braking forces. Now, I simply stop for each stop light and amble along the slow lane of an interstate. Just this past week; we were passed by an aging Toyota Camry. I swear she sneered at me as she went by. As a Supercar, I had always believed my life would be more then this.

I can’t blame him for the detriment of our relationship and the state of my sorry affairs. Being America’s only race car, I had expected too much. But these completely useless speed limits have sucked away my soul. When will I fly again? When will feel a lateral g greater then 0.6? When will my brakes feel alive again?

I shouldn’t complain too much. I am sure there are others like me, stifled by America’s speed limits. Perhaps, it wasn’t meant to be this way but sadly, it is.

Oh excuse me now, He wants to go get some milk. Sigh.