It all started when I got this wild idea in my head – I’m gonna own a black Ferrari. Sounds cool, right? But man, I didn’t really think it through till I actually went for it. Here’s how it all went down.
Just Jumping In Headfirst
I walked into the dealership one random Tuesday after obsessing over photos online. Told the sales guy, “Give me the meanest-looking black Ferrari you got.” Signed papers before I even test-drove it properly. Felt like a rockstar rolling outta there that afternoon, engine roaring.
The Honeymoon Phase (Was Short)
First week? Pure magic. Cruised everywhere – downtown, coffee runs, even the grocery store. Felt every eye on that glossy black paint. But real talk started creeping in fast:
- Dust magnet: Parked outside my office for one sunny day? Looked like it hosted a pollen convention. Finger-drawing “wash me” became a daily ritual.
- Water spots nightmare: Thought a quick rinse at home would do. Sun dried it… and bam. Spots everywhere like a leopard print. Panic-wiped with my shirt sleeve. Do not recommend.
- Bird strikes: Parked under a tree once. Came back to what looked like abstract art in white. Nearly cried scrubbing that acidic gunk off without scratching.
Waking Up to Reality
The big “aha” moment hit me hard after dropping it for its first service. That bill could’ve funded a vacation. Guy at the shop chuckled, “Black Ferraris? Gorgeous until you gotta feed ‘em.” Real benefits started making sense now:
- Parking paranoia: Suddenly every parking lot felt like a warzone. End spots only. Double-checking distance from carts. Felt genuine relief finding empty garages.
- Detailing bills: Bought the fancy ceramic coating. Still shelled out every month for pro hand-washes. Watched that guy like a hawk swirling his mitt.
- Attention overload: Strangers taking pics? Flattering. Teens revving their Civics next to you at lights? Exhausting. Learned to scope exit routes before stopping anywhere public.
Where I Landed
Yeah, owning a black Ferrari teaches you things fast. It’s less about flexing and more about commitment. You either embrace the chaos or lose your mind. Polishing it every Saturday? Therapeutic now. Planning road trips around clean routes? Normal. That roar when you start it up still gives me chills, even if I know I’ll spend Sunday afternoon scrubbing brake dust off those rims again. It’s a high-maintenance love affair, zero regrets – just way wiser now.