Back in 1996, I was 17 and on a trip with my fam in Miami. We were at the Outback for dinner and on the way in, my dad and I spot a red 1995 NSX-T out front. Being car people, we strike up a conversation with the driver and my dad asks him if he'd give me a quick ride. He says sure and off we go. He finds an open stretch of road and with a grin just nails it. 1st, 8000rpm, 2nd, 8000rpm, third, he cuts it off at about 95 and turns us around. It was the closest thing to a religious epiphany I had ever experienced. Very different than the gold 1983 RX-7 I drove at home.
So we're talking on the way back to the Outback and I'm telling him about how I want to go to law school, etc. And what do you know a Miami-Dade cop flashes his lights and pulls us over. The driver tells me to get out of the car and being a dumb kid I open my door- only to hear "passgener stay in the car!" and see a 9mm Glock 17 being pointed at me by a very upset cop. His partner ambles up to the driver and goes through the spiel. He says he didn't have to see us coming because he heard us first. It becomes evident that the NSX is not the driver's car.
He explains that he is going through a messy divorce and he registered the car in his friend's name so that his ex wouldn't get it. I'm sitting there in abject fear wondering if I'm going to be spending the night in Dade county lockup. Bye bye law school...
The other cop holsters his weapon and asks for my driver's license. When he sees it is from NY, the eyebrow goes up. I'm so scared I can't manage any words- two young guys from different states driving an exotic car reigstered in another name? And in Dade county? I'm convinced they think we're drug dealers. Wonderful. Thankfully the driver quickly explains I'm a friend from out of town and he was just giving me a quick ride to experience the car. The cop seems to buy it and starts in on me that the NSX is a death trap and at the speeds we were going, they'd have to identify my body with dental records. After about a 5 minute lecture, amazingly, the cops let us go with a warning.
When we get back to the Outback, we tell my dad the whole story, which he strangely finds hilarious. He thanks the driver and on our way in to the restaurant, all he says is: "Don't tell your mother." :biggrin:
After that day, I knew I had to have an NSX.