Trombone-ing Pastiche

US truck driver David Dopp won a 640-bhp Lamborghini Murcielago Roadster, crashed it within 6 hour of owning and now plans to sell the convertible as the 34-year old couldn’t afford neither the supercar’s insurance nor its taxes.

Talk about luck, huh?

I was once stuck behind a Murcielago waiting for the traffic lights to change GO near the Kota Damansara toll plaza.

Know the feeling of being in a small car stuck in traffic with a behemoth of an old, diesel powered lorry shaking every nuts and bolts of your Perodua Viva loose? It was exactly the same with me and the Murcielago.

I think the owner did some modification as the exhaust vent was huge; enough to shove a whole head inside and check out what brewing!

Funnily enough, the driver didn’t actually zoom off the moment the lights turned green; happily ambling along like the rest of the ordinary automobile mortals.

Ivory white, so low slung that it seems to hug the road (is that the reason why you opted for slow, good sir?), the Murcielago was quite something to behold.

The driver was a youngish, bespectacled Chinese chap who had a smiley, friendly face so much that I didn’t end up envying him for having such a superb example of a motoring draw.

What would I do with a Lamborghini? Probably sell it like David Dopp. Only because I had a slip disk episode some time ago and couldn’t tolerate any sitting position other than the sit-upright style.

Tax and insurance? Yeah, that too. Even servicing my current two locally-licensed cars are already giving me quite a yearly headache.

And the money could sure go a long way in clearing off the long list of household debts which I hear is growing in good old Malaysia.

For sure, if your thoughts HAVE to veer towards such mundane things in life, a Lamborghini (or any other similarly high end motoring brand) is probably not for you.

These are the weekend toys for those whose worry is the next clear stretch for an 80 to 200kmh torque test.

Yep. All that thrum-thrumming coming for the huge exhaust is not for show.

Or rattling the nuts and bolts of its puny(er?) motoring counterparts.