In early September, La Zambra, a five-star golf resort near Málaga, in for an organization called the Supercar Owners Circle. At the event, wealthy car enthusiasts-almost exclusively men gathered to show off their vehicles, gawp at other people's, and drive the mountainous roads of Andalusia faster than was strictly legal. The gathering, which took place over a long weekend, was by invitation only. Admission, along with room and board, cost about nine thousand dollars. "Only the most prestigious and uncompromising supercars of past and present are eligible," the club's Web site warned. "The final decision lies with the admission board, which consists of both S.O.C. members and external automotive specialists."
On the Thursday evening that I arrived at La Zambra, in an Uber, the parking lot was already half full. Each car had been allotted a particular spot. I introduced myself to a thirtysomething Brit with a Midlands accent, who was walking the lot, occasionally taking photographs. He called himself Zak, but preferred not to give his surname. He'd arrived in a bright-blue McLaren 765LT Coupe, an aggressive-looking sports car with a four-litre engine for which he had paid five hundred and seventy thousand dollars. McLaren was his favorite make of car, he explained, because "everything is British"; he also loved "the sound and the vibration" he experienced when driving the coupe. Many supercar collectors rarely take their vehicles out of the garage, but Zak liked to use his for daily chores. "I go to the shops in it," he said. "I stick it in a multistory car park. All right, I do a couple of laps before I find a spot-but I use it."
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der December 25, 2023-Ausgabe von The New Yorker.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der December 25, 2023-Ausgabe von The New Yorker.
Starten Sie Ihre 7-tägige kostenlose Testversion von Magzter GOLD, um auf Tausende kuratierte Premium-Storys sowie über 8.000 Zeitschriften und Zeitungen zuzugreifen.
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