On Loss and Lotus
During such occasion that I find myself in a place of culture, it’s eminently feasible that I can appreciate a good painting or sculpture. However, for me the most beautiful art is that of the engine adorned variety. A car can be an art piece for its obvious design elements or because of its overall ethos. A vehicle made solely for the pursuit of happiness doesn’t have to be beautiful, but surely, anything engineered with the sole intent of making the world more joyous is a thing of beauty. A Caterham or KTM X-Bow may have a face only a mother could love, and possibly a crack addicted one at that, but they’re nothing if not specialized fanciful objects made by talented fools for well moneyed ones – that is, art.
Being a procurer of fine art myself, I’ve had a bit of a love affair with the Lotus brand for several years now. While their reliability may vary, and their financial viability is less than resolute, they will surely go down in the annals of history as one of mankind’s most laudable artistic endeavors. In fact, I’d go so far as to say they’re the zenith of human achievement. While the Mona Lisa languishes lazily under the gaze of endless guidebook stricken denizens of the Louvre, a Lotus is out there in the world, broadcasting its wonder in so much noise and tire smoke like the British symphony that it is. Driving a Lotus is like conducting a delicate ballet, being let in on a secret of heightened feedback and handling prowess that feels like it was intended for the next phase of human evolution. It’s a rolling Rembrandt, a Visceral Van Gogh and so help me if the Evora isn’t also just bite the back of your hand pretty.
The thing is though, other people have a way of ruining everything. Most of the world’s recognized treasures pass their days in a secured environment, but automotive icons are subject to the general ineptitude of mankind out there on the road. I don’t know if you’ve met any people as of late, but Jesus tap dancing Christ are most of them not the brightest. The simple act of moving forward without crashing into stationary objects proves too much for some, and in a Julian rivaling tragedy of the ages, my six-week old Lotus Evora S hath fallen victim to the ever-increasing torrent of stupidity that is mankind.
In a most befuddling and almost impressive realization of total asinine ineptitude, an ancient Mitsubishi Montero found its way wrapped around the divine posterior of my precious Lotus Evora S last week in Manhattan. Picture the chaos of Manhattan, and then picture the particular breed of utter living uselessness that it would take to fall asleep behind the wheel during the day whilst driving in it. Somehow, in the 30 or so seconds that it took to turn from 3rd Avenue onto to 27th Street, a man managed to fall asleep in a vehicle the heft of which is outweighed only by its complete lack of engineering relevance.
I’ll never forget the noise. Being asleep, the driver of the car never bothered to do something as daft as applying the brakes before ramming into something irreplaceable, so the deafening cacophony of 5,800 pounds meeting 3,100 exquisite non-moving ones was like a crack of thunder hard wired directly to my auditory synapses. My body went into hyper adrenaline mode, as my brain went through that horrible stage of denial where you plea with the universe to let you go back just a few seconds in time.
It takes craftsmen countless hours to completely hand assemble a Lotus Evora S. It’s carted around the factory by hand on a dolly as it goes from stage to stage, lovingly looked after by a small team in rural Hethel. Hundreds of thousands of hours of engineering and testing, of design study and manufacturing feasibility tests, of material selection and the madness of the final sign off – the cumulative result of might and sheer audacious will from such a small company – results in something truly precious. They sell more than 10 Ferrari’s for every Evora in the United States, and now, thanks to a man who had no place on any road, there is one less Evora with which to dazzle and delight the world.
When you get in an accident, everyone loves to remind you that it’s only a car and the important thing is that you’re okay. But those words cut like a dagger to someone whose obsession with their mode of transport is a central part of their being. The Lotus Evora S is only a car like Scarlett Johansson is only a woman. The 2014 model year marks the swan song of this current iteration of Evora in the U.S. until a new for 2016 model joins us sometime in the future. My car was literally irreplaceable, and though people are as well, I was a whole lot easier to manufacture. My wounds will heal, but the Evora will never be the same. The universe can be a cruel mistress indeed. Alas, I’ve never much been a fan of the humans – many of them are a raucous destructive brunch that often wields more power than their fickle brains should be entrusted with. To the dozing shit faced bastard that hit me, all I can say is, have you any idea what you’ve done?
The car may be fixed, like so many rare books or paintings lovingly restored by master artisans eons after their original dates of creation. But it will never be as it once was, an impeccably precise piece of rolling awe. It just as well may be totaled, upon which it will surely be sent in pieces to Russia, where it’ll be reassembled with sledgehammers and wedges of iron and sold as a brand new car, probably in Albania. It leaves me thinking that the world is too cruel for Evoras and that maybe precious cars do in fact belong in climate controlled garages away from the madness and destruction that are the cell phone distracted half brained lemmings piloting their generic transportation modules in so many shades of telling grey and beige.
But then, what’s the point of being alive if I’m not doing my favorite thing as often as possible to the best of my ability? I could get something practical, give up, and reserve my passion for special occasions. However, after a week of contemplation, it has occurred to me that we only get one go round, and it’s better to have driven and lost than never have driven at all. I will be waiting until the 2016 model year and ordering the first North American bound Evora S. Maybe this time I’ll go to the factory to witness its birth before it enters a world not deserving of its brilliance.
Finally, though my Evora S only roamed this earth in its original state for six weeks, it should be noted that had I not been at that traffic light waiting to be crashed into, the rush hour pedestrians on that particular Manhattan crosswalk would never have made it home that night, as I was the first and only car waiting at the light. I’m proud of my vibrant blue Lotus, as it gave its life to save those of the pedestrians. In keeping with an icon, my Lotus Evora was not only a mobile mastery of the arts – it was a damn hero.