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Byline: Cory Farley
So I'm on a street corner in Los Angeles, Wilshire and Something, and four cars go by.
I'll understand if this doesn't bring you to your feet shouting, "No way!'' But these were significant cars.
The first was a Ferrari, model uncertain. I try to keep them straight but can't; does it help to know it was red? Then an Aston Martin DB7, a Mazda 6 and a BMW Z8.
Even in Los Angeles, this is a parade. The Ferrari (360 Modena?) drew the most attention, if only for the color. The college-age kid on my left recognized the DB but called it an "Austin'' Martin. The Z8 exuded dignified menace.
And I surprised myself by thinking, "I could live with that Mazda.''
Is this what maturity feels like?