Nothing seems to scream “midlife crisis” louder than a low-wide sports car. Never mind it’s not a Porsche or (heaven forbid!) a Ferrari or that it was acquired used for less than the price of a new city car in entry level trim.
The color doesn’t help, either; perhaps a “Galaxy Grey Mica” or a “Sunlight Silver Metallic” would make the RX-8 stealthier but mine is a “Winning Blue”, which, for some reason, isn’t that common as red, silver or black.
Stereotypes die-hard and, apparently, sports cars are supposed to be a young man’s game. Like Jack in Lost, I let the fear sink in, counted to five and then got on with my midlife crisis' toy, a Mazda RX-8.
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