I'm piloting a vehicle with a mid-mounted engine coupled to a close ratio transmission. The steering feel transmitted through the chunky helm is sublime, matching Bimmers of yore. Wearing a maniacal grin, I [hypothetically] pitch my whip into a corner at an [allegedly] injudicious speed, listening to the engine, passengers and tires scream. As I clip the apex, I punch the throttle. The powerplant howls as the chassis adopts hooligan-induced oversteer. I saw at the wheel, maintaining a sideways slide. Audi RS4? Chevrolet Corvette? Nope. I'm driving a tall, skinny, eight-passenger Nissan Urvan. |
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