It was dark, too early and I was feeling grismal — i.e, grim and dismal — as befitted the ungodly hour. But it was time to leave my house in New York for Newark Airport to board a flight to Los Angeles. Mercifully, in my sleep-deprived lines of work – testing cars and managing rock bands — I can crash on any plane that isn’t crashing itself. And as I write, I’ve just woken up after a long nap that lasted from Pennsylvania to New Mexico so now feel slightly rejuvenated.
Which is good because in about 40 minutes, we’ll touch down at LAX. Skipping the baggage claim, I’m going to head out to the curb where I plan to meet my old college buddy and one-time They Might Be Giants’ confederate, Bill Krauss. He wants to show me the used Porsche Boxster S he recently picked up, so we’re going to lunch in it. But then I’m heading home. To New York. By car. And not just any car mind you, but one that’s likely to make Bill’s Boxster – one of my favorite bargain used sports car buys – seem like a set of old-fashioned, metal-wheeled, children’s roller skates.Read More »from Crossing America with a McLaren MP4-12C: Day 1