For me it's a nostalgia thing. When I was a child, I lived in Tripoli, Libya. Not long before we left, my dad bought a 2600 sprint from a Libyan guy. We had a blast with it; the Libyans would use their oil money to build roads that would go out of town for 20-50 miles straight out in the desert, for no reason other than to spend money. My dad would pile the kids in the back of the Alfa and put his foot down, and we'd scream down the road at 120 MPH for 10 miles, turn around, and do the same thing. My dad couldn't get hold of the PO to exchange money for title, so when we left, he still hadn't paid for it, and we had to leave it at the Tripoli Airport with the keys on the front wheel.