Dear McLaren,
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I really, really like what you’ve been doing as of late. Your lineup, admittedly a little hard to tell apart, is stellar. You’ve milked all the power you possibly can from that little 3.8-liter twin-turbo V8, and when you couldn’t milk any more, you hybridized the whole thing.
Even your mules look sweet.
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But, come on now. Must you always be the fastest one—everywhere? Always? Doesn’t it get exhausting, constantly checking the leaderboards to make sure there is nobody coming up fast to usurp your position? I bet you haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a long time.
I beseech you, McLaren, to take a break. Please. Go on vacation. Slow down and smell the motor oil. Everything will be where you left it when you get back, I promise.
Love,
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Me
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