Most people say they hate driving in New York City. I never commuted through Manhattan; rather, I cut my teeth as a Gotham motorist driving television production box trucks and cargo vans, dodging taxis and pedestrian clots with strict deadlines at top of mind. I learned to navigate the grid aggressively but safely — dare I say, skillfully. That’s prepared me for piloting high-performance “tanks” and venomous pony cars, chauffeuring luxury sedans and myriad other exotics around our fair metropolis. People pay attention to fancy and fast cars sometimes, but about 98 percent of my fellow New Yorkers are oblivious, and treat a car as an annoyance — if they notice it at all.
But not this. Not this Vermillion Red McLaren 570S. I’ve been on Facebook for one decade and have been a social being for about three, but never have I made more friends so quickly. Everyone noticed this car. Old couples, young kids, construction workers, cops, women, men, friends, enemies. And always tourists of all stripes. I had countless memorable interactions during my superlative time with the 570S, but below are some of my favorites. My thoughts on the car are simple: it’s so vibrant, so alive, so natural and so feral. A Porsche 911 Turbo coddles you as though you’re a slick executive; the McLaren doesn’t necessarily give a damn about your corner office. Still, in many ways the McLaren defies description; in the video above I did my best. But I’ve found that where my words fail, others express what I can’t.
New Yorkers Weigh In
Theo, seven years old, and his mother crossed the street to see the car as we shot video footage. He was awestruck and silent, until I took his hand and showed him the hidden door release button. Then I started the engine. Theo’s eyes went large, darting between his mom, the car, me.
Theo’s Mom: “Ask him your question you always ask!”
Theo: “How fast can this race car go?”
Me, grinning: 204 miles an hour!