I am a masochist

My previous entry ennumerates the ways a Passat is wrong for me. Nonetheless, I couldn't resist taking one for a test drive last weekend. It was a base edition (no heated seats) with the time-bomb engine and a stick shift.

Alas, I loved it. I whipped it through Storrow at speeds theoretically impossible for a front-wheel drive, 3,500-lb sedan on squishy tires. It's one of those cars that encourages you to do highly illegal things.

I didn't want to give up the keys. But I did, because the alternative involves parting from many thousands of dollars (or jail time).