HERO WORSHIP
WHEN I SOLD my cars earlier this year, it was to fulfill a fantasy. See, I’ve long wanted a Lotus Esprit, the wedge-shaped four-cylinder lightweight cobbled together in an English shed. It’s been a dream since I first sat in an S4 Esprit when I was eight years old. I didn’t have any logical reason for wanting one beyond that, and I recently realized that if I didn’t buy one soon, I never would. Work, family, life, and finances would see it become unreachable. Over the summer, I found one. A higher-mileage 1995 S4 with extensive service records. It’s, shall we say, lacking, cosmetically. Not that it matters. I wanted a driver, and I got one. In many ways, it’s horrible. I can’t see out of it, the steering wheel blocks the gauges,…