As a race, we humans have always liked to move. To make progress. To feel our bodies as we dance, walk, hike, run and climb. We like to feel the earth beneath us, its changing terrain of hills and valleys, rocks and clumps of grass. As we move over ground, our bodies adapt to the world beneath us – sandy soil makes us slip and we correct our footfalls, feeling the strain of the movement in our ankles and knees. Why do we like to feel the world as we move through it? Because it reminds us of the fact that we are real – that the world around us is real. Feeling the world around us makes us realise that we are alive in the world. Driving most cars is the opposite of this – it is a deadening experience. It turns Nature into a movie, scrolling by on the windscreen of our car, presented to us in 16:9 ratio, just like on a tv set. The dampeners and shocks protect us from the road’s imperfections, from the roll and camber of the Earth as we blaze over it – as though we were angels sitting on nothing but clouds and the air itself. We feel boyant and cocooned. It is comfortable but it feels unreal. A sportscar changes all that – it is engineered to be an extension of the body and its senses, rather than a cloak to keep out the elements. Obviously, there are those who wear it like an ornate garment, who misunderstand and are intimidated by the danger associated with its power, speed and connection to reality, but those who would buy a sportscar for the image it projects are people who have already died – they walk, they speak, but have given in to materialism. It has killed them. No, the joy of sportscar is that it fits like a glove, tying you to the road. It roars to life with the insertion of a key and then suddenly your nerves awaken, your mind grows sharper – you are forced to adapt to driving the same way your body must adapt to uneven terrain during a brisk hike or cross-country run. A sportscar makes you feel more alive.