One day I out-accelerated a BMW M5. In a 2-litre Jetta. An automatic, 2-litre Jetta. There was no skill involved really. I just put my foot down expecting to be left behind in a cloud of disintegrating Dunlops, to listen to that sweet V8 song as the Bimmer taught me how it's really done. Instead, Mr. M5 bogged the launch and I found myself alone, thinking we had gotten our signals mixed up, until he flashed by in an embarrassed fury two blocks later. But the game was already over.
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