In Dreams

By Jonathan Mellberg

I’m not a gambling man. It was years after my eighteenth birthday before I finally slipped a single dollar into a slot machine. And it’s not because I’m frugal; I’m not. I spend my money on plenty of stupid things. But those stupid things are mine to keep. They’re tangible; even if only briefly (as in a Five Guys Cheeseburger). But with gambling, you never know. That $20 you spend could win you $50, or $1000. But more often than not it wins you zilch; at least, for me.

This doesn’t mean I don’t dream of winning the lottery, because I do. It’s a futile self-indulgent activity, especially because I play the lottery even less than I play craps. And while my life doesn’t revolve around money (wait, does living paycheck to paycheck count?), I find it very euphoric when pondering how I’d piss away a new-found fortune.

The annoying part of my brain, the left side, first focuses on the logical choices of where and how to spend my millions: a new house for Tate and I (what the hell, new houses for everyone!), forcing my parents into early retirement, college tuition for the kids. OK, enough of the boring stuff, let's switch to the right side of the brain!

Ah, the right side; emotion, creativity, color, music! Yep, this is where my fanta$y should dwell. And dwell it does. The first scene in the “Jon’s Millions” fantasy is where I take off from work for the day (make that for life) and scoot on over to the local Porsche dealer, which is literally about a mile from work. I know, this doesn’t sound like the real Jon Mellberg… shouldn’t I be marching toward a Ferrari dealer instead? Well, stupid left-side of the brain has influence enough to remind my right side that the nearest Ferrari dealer is just outside Chicago, 400 miles away. It would be easier to buy a brand new Porsche 911 Turbo S and just drive there; oh yes, easier indeed. I suppose while I’m at it I’ll pick out something for the wife. How about a new Porsche Macan SUV? Sure, why not. And Tate will need something for taking a nice summer drive, so we’ll add a Porsche Boxter S as well. And me? Well, I guess I won’t be able to drive that 911 Turbo S all the time, so I suppose I’ll need a naturally aspirated Porsche Panamera GTS as well (because two Porsche turbo models is just silly). 

2014 Porsche 911 Turbo (for me)

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Yellow_Porsche_911_Turbo_S_(991)_rl_London2014.jpg

2014 Porsche Macan (for Tate)

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Festival_automobile_international_2014_-_Porsche_Macan_-_003.jpg

Ok, now we’re off to Chicago. I could make (insanely) great time by sling-shot'ing the 911 Turbo S across Wisconsin’s highways at breakneck speeds, but then who’s gonna drive it back? Tate? Sorry hun, I love you but that 911 is too much car for you. So, we’ll take the Panamera GTS. I mean, it’s got 4 seats, a big ol’ trunk (for a Porsche), and space for the new baby. By now I’ve already hired a man to track down and find my favorite Ferrari ever: the 1984 Ferrari 288 GTO. But in the interim, and also for the majority of my prancing-pony driving, I’ll need a more modern Ferrari in which to sow my automotive oats. The answer? Oh geez, that’s a tough one. Ferrari California? Nope, too girly. Ferrari F12? Too scary (remember, this is for daily driving). Ferrari F458 Italia? Eh, too common (though I’d probably end up buying the F458 Speciale anyway). Then it’s settled; gimme the Ferrari FF, snarl-ready with a 650hp V12, all-wheel drive, and a $300K price tag. Needless to say, Tate will be driving the Panamera home today. The FF is all mine.

Ferrari FF (for me)

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ferrari_FF_Newport_Beach_(8387695594).jpg

Days later, after I’ve purchased a 50’x100’ maximum security pull barn, I take stock of my current collection: four Porches and one Ferrari (I’m still negotiating with a private seller regarding my 288 GTO). The barn looks surprisingly sparse, even with $750K in autos already; time to beef up my fledgling collection.

We pick out a white Nissan GT-R from the local Nissan dealer, please and thank you. That’ll probably be my daily driver. Or maybe it’ll be the new M3 four-door with its carbon fiber roof. We’ll get the M3 in that cool blue color. And then we’re off to Mercedes, to pick up the sexiest grocery getter ever: the Mercedes-Benz E63 wagon. Don’t laugh; this car has all-wheel drive, 577 horsepower, and will reach 60mph in less than three and a half seconds. Yeah, it’s bitchin’.

2014 BMW M3 (for me)

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Blue_BMW_F30_M3_at_the_2014_Toronto_Auto_Show.jpg

2014 M-B E63 Wagon (for me)

 

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:2014_Mercedes-Benz_E63_AMG_S-Model_T,_rear_right.jpg

Gosh, we’re getting pretty stocked with sparkling new sports cars and super cars. I guess I can spend a few days focusing on others. For my buddy Brandon (as per our agreement if either of us ever won the lottery) I’ll pick him up a new Nissan 370Z for his daily driver. For the weekends I’ll get him a pre-owned Lamborghini Murcielago. You’re welcome. My dad will receive a brand new C7 Corvette and a Harley of his choice. For Mom and Brian? Tough call; let’s start with a brand new Nissan Altima for him, and a new Nissan Rouge for her. For their Sunday drives I’ll have to find an old ’65 Mustang convertible with a 289 cubic-inch V8. For the in-laws? To match the Saturn Vue my mother-in-law already owns I’ll find a nice little Saturn Sky convertible; we’ll make it red, with black leather, a manual transmission, in Redline (turbocharged) trim. And for my father-in-law Doug… another tough choice. He’s already owned some very cool classics, and he currently has a pair of beautiful ’49 Chevy pickup trucks. I guess I’ll have to get him a new Chevy Silverado LTZ with the towing package so he can pull his new pontoon boat.

Lamborghini Murcielago (for Brandon)

 

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Lamborghini_Murcielago_back_left.jpg

2014 Chevy Corvette (for Dad) photo by the author

With the family taken care of, I sit on the hood of my new Nissan GT-R (for whatever reason it’s the car I feel the least guilty sitting on) and take stock of all the four-wheeled titans in my pull barn. And as I glance around I begin to notice that all the paint jobs are pretty new, and all the tires are fully tread. “I need some classics, now” I say to myself. Within a month I find a ’92 GMC Syclone, a ’68 Dodge Charger R/T, a ’60 Cadillac Coupe de Ville, a ’96 Corvette Gran Sport, and probably a Dodge Coronet of some sort (surely one very similar to the Coronet from “Tommy Boy”).

1992 GMC Syclone (for me)

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:GMC_Syclone_(4821286342).jpg

1968 Dodge Charger (for me)

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:1968_Dodge_Charger_R-T_-_Flickr_-_Highway_Patrol_Images.jpg

I’m exhausted. All this car shopping has drained my will to drive… Not! As the months roll on while Tate and I watch our dream house being built, we take a drive each day to run errands, grab a bite to eat, and go to the movies. And each time we take a different car. And sometimes, if Tate is lucky, I let her drive.

-Thank you for reading The Wheelspin Journal-

photo by the author