I trigger the codekey, hear the doors unlock and the engine—smooth as silk, like music to my fragging ears—light up instantly. I slide into the driver’s seat, which is low to the road and contoured like something from a fighter plane, and run my hands and eyes over the instrument suite. I blip the gas pedal, and watch the low-intensity orange symbology of the analog instruments respond instantly. Yes, even though I’m not exactly sure where I’m going, I get the feeling I’m going to enjoy getting there. I close the door—a whoosh-click, not the clunk you get from your typical Americar—drop the transmission into gear, and pull out.