Back in 1992 a friend of mine and I stopped in at a southern BMW dealership where I found a clean 1988 M6. My friend knew one of the salesman and a test drive was quickly set up. The salesperson jumped behind the wheel, fired it up, and explained that he would drive it until it was properly warmed up-and that he knew a place where the car could be driven properly. To this day, I don't know where we ended up. All I know is that it was a narrow, country lane that wound through an area where Deliverance II could have been filmed. Meanwhile, trusty salesperson (TS) was blasting the M6 down this road like ten bats out of [censored]. Four wheel opposite lock drifts around blind corners, and every shift at the redline. I hung on, quietly meditating on the "Where Will YOU Spend Eternity?" sign we had recently passed at 97 mph. Finally, it was my turn to drive. Now, I have scared my share of salespeople in my day, but I knew I was beaten. TS even tried to encourage me to pick up the pace. Anyway, when we rolled back onto the lot my friend mentioned that he smelled the brakes. From about two blocks away. "Nah," said TS, "it's just the paint burning off the new resonator." Right.
I bought the car a week later.
