I'm not used to this. My cars don't normally attract this much attention. Wherever it is, rolling down the road or sitting in a parking spot it gets stared at. I have people stopping and throwing me thumbs up and compliments, people ask if they can take pictures of it etc. I feel like the nerd walking into prom with the head cheerleader on my arm and it's not easy to deal with.
I know it seems odd, but I'm a sneaky mofo and I usually have a car that blends in for the most part. If I had gone with, really, any other color, the BRZ would have blended into the background, but WR Blue craves attention like Paris Hilton and it's getting it! and the wheels I went with turn it from a paparazzi still to a sex tape.
I don't regret anything, certainly; I still look back at the car at least once, usually two times as I walk away from it in the parking lot. It's stunning and I totally get why it gets the reaction it does. The problem is, if it were the GT-R it would be fine. I'm not 20 anymore, I don't act as wild as I used to, but I'm still a couple of dirty looks away from a fighting stance and I occasionally ignore road safety. Sorry.
As flash as my BRZ is, though, as crazy as it sounds, this really is my "practical car." Yes, I cruise the highway at 100 mph when the road is clear enough, but that is not me looking for a fight. I cruised at 75 in my little truck before the BRZ came along. Why 75? Because it just would not go 76! This car to me is what a Corolla or Prius is to normal people.
I'm not looking for trouble, but I find myself tiptoeing around actual fast cars lest my visible "chip" rock about and send the wrong signal. I've NEVER had to do that. I've always been ready to run in anything I've owned. It's not that I've never had a slow car, most of my cars were, at best, "quick." The GT-R was the first seriously fast car I've owned.
The GT-R looks like Tyson, but it can actually tear off ears so no problem. The BRZ looks like it's Bruce Lee, but it's about as tough as Mr. Chang, that's sort of, well,
Thank you, Chang.
I will not be changing my use profile and bolting on that turbo kit. Nope, I will probably stay on track to add the big three gauge package, but that's it. I will just have to learn to be humble and mature for the first time in my life because if I rise to any challenge from anything greater than a fart-canned Civic I'm going to get clowned. Not always because of the car, though. This sexy little thing has reminded me that it's been quite a while since I drove a tight car with decent footwork.
The R doesn't compare. It's an rocket. Point it where you want it to go, as long as it's straight ahead and pedal it while it tries to get there without shedding the tires or veering off course. I'm use to driving "lawn darts." This car is precise; totally different animal. I can feel how planted this car is and as weird as it sounds, it's kind of scary.
I know that sounds counter-intuitive, but the car has much more capability than I have skill and it's easy to forget who is doing more in the equation. I could get complacent and forget that I am rusty and that I can do what I'm doing more because the car is good, less that I am good anymore. I don't get a reminder until the car crosses outside its capability and expects me to take up the slack and I've been leaning on the car's skills this whole time.
As long as I remember that, though, it's great. This car expects me to elevate my game and that's a good thing. I haven't felt like this behind the wheel in probably ten years. When pushing it I start to breathe rhythmic, move in a controlled and purposeful manner and my ears ignore the stereo and listen to that silly little tube under my feet making fake engine noises.
As much as the attention is weirding me out, every time I look at it or drive it I know it was the car I wanted and at the perfect time in my life.