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Before I brought my thing, I drove many sleds. After 30,000 miles of seat time, I think I now understand what a fine car can do. The Maranello likes to have breakfast with a BMW. I see the California State Department of Motor Vehicles keeps changing the rules. Yipes, the CHP does not understand what my Maranello does. It eats little things.

Maybe I should talk to them.

I wonder what I eat for lunch tomorrow? Mr. Ferrari knows best in the world. I mean the planet Earth. No one can build a car to catch a car built by my Enzo Ferrari. Nuts. I have a Ferrari, which is as front engine V-12 built after the man reached room temperature. I still think my 550 relates to Mr. Ferrari.

I am but an old man of sixty. I drive my 550 to San Francisco, San Diego, and Las Vegas. Kill the ones who do not use the beast. My thing likes to travel. Driving into a place to sleep in my car is much fun. Bonzi!

I am but as common man who did well. The people pay me cash to talk to me. Fun.


Heck, go to the dealer in Santa Ana.
 
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