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The Last Howl of The Petrol Heads

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Aston Martin One-77 prototypeDo you hear that? Outside your window, on a nearby a-road or an empty motorway? Just then, just for a moment? It was the sound of a dying breed, the howl of the hunted petrol head. Driving for the enjoyment of driving, not to simply to get from point a to point b. We are a part of this small number that is slowly being squeezed out of existence.

The rage of a V12 gets our pulses racing yet todays world complains of its noise. The surge of acceleration sets our senses alight yet todays world would merrily give us an ASBO. It is in todays world that we cling for existence in fear of being extinguished by tomorrows. We are caged, no longer able to run free. Punished by those who will never understand our commitment to combustion. Speed bumps the size of riot vans wait to scratch and grind the carbon fibre we admire. Cameras wait around every corner not to photograph our magnificent machines in awe, but to see them taken away from those who crave their purpose.

We are being banished, forced into eco-boxes that fail to stimulate our passion for speed, for exhilaration, for driving pleasure. We are the last few, and I refuse to go quietly!

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