 It is a beautiful machine. I have to tell you that even if you are a car-imbecile like me ("re-car-ted"), it is impossible not to be moved by the precision engineering that goes into a car like the Boxster. I drove the car to work, and I wept for a total of seven minutes during the ride. The automobile is utterly responsive, like a $56,000 bionic extension of your body. Press on the gas and it thrusts forward cheetah-like, smooth and quiet. It handles curves with the smooth shimmy of a garden snake. The transmission can be set to either automatic or manual. It has Tiptronic shifting, which means you have no clutch to worry about -- just a button on the steering wheel which lets you shift up or down. There is an onboard computer which tells you your gas mileage, how far you can drive on your current tank of gas, and the temperature both inside and outside the car. The stereo is so beautiful that it makes your stomach do little dips; it even increases the volume as you go faster.
Around noon, I came back to the office to find a pizza delivery guy. "You know, it's my birthday, so that pizza should be for me," I joked. "Hargrave?" asked the man. "It is for you." He handed me a large pizza and two Italian subs. I was confused. "How much do I owe you?" "It's been taken care of." "Thanks!" Chuckling, I took my food back to my desk and called Jade. "Thanks for lunch!" I said. "That was sweet." "What?" "The pizza," I explained with my mouth full. "I didn't send you any food." Now, Jade is a very bad liar, and she said it so matter-of-factly that I knew she was telling the truth. "Well, who sent it?" I asked. At that very moment, I checked my e-mail and found this cryptic message:
The address was from the University of Akron. Since I'm originally from Ohio, I assumed that one of my friends was behind this. Who could it be? I mentally ran down my list of Friends Who Are Evil until a few minutes later, when I received another e-mail.
As if to punctuate this message, the phone rang. "Mr. Hargrave?" "Speaking." "I have a pizza and some sandwiches for you." I went outside to meet another delivery guy, who once again said it was covered. The count was now up to two pizzas and four subs. Who was behind this?
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Once I got into work, I decided I wasn't going to get much done, so I began taking my co-workers out for quick spins around the city. There is a rear spoiler on the car which only pops out when you hit 70 mph; I made it a point to break 100. Boston freeway traffic is pretty thick on a weekday morning, which just made the maneuvering that much more fun.
