I'm already working on an appropriate mix CD.

In just a couple of weeks, happiness arrives in the form of a Saturn Sky.

The Sky has been my "lust" car since its release; I love it so much that, were I in the market, I'd be tempted to choose a Sky over even the MINI Cooper S, which has been my "lust" car for the past six years or so. It's pure luck that it is scheduled to arrive at the office the same week as a bunch of much more exotic vehicles; while the full-time staff is busy arguing over Porsches, I'm thrilled with this particular GM.

I can't think of a better way to spend an evening in Chicago than taking a sexy, feminine roadster for nice twilight spin down deliciously twisty Sheridan Road to Lake Shore Drive.

More to come...

Luxurious like Egyptian cotton

I haven't driven the R8, it must be said, but I'm not in the minority on that. Not many people have driven one, and those who haven't lament it (here's lookin' at you, Jalopnik). I know people who know people, though. I've experienced a ride.

We were amongst a crowd attending a show at Audi of America headquarters when the R8 graced us with its presence. It was a sunny Saturday. Heads turned. Jaws dropped. Mens' pants got a little tighter. I had seen one before, just one, when it was unveiled at NAIAS, but this was an entirely different experience. It was moving, audible, out of the sterile show environment, exciting enough to get over my flash of disappointment at its sheer silverness. Rumor has it they've been built in other colors. Online photos have confirmed this (some of which even originated from sources I trust). I was hoping to see a non-silver R8 with my own eyes. Silver is the new beige. Silver is the Audi standby, yes, but it does this car no favors. Rather than accentuate the contours, it sheaths them. Audi seems to think everything should be drenched in silver. Why don't we slather Scarlett Johansson's breasts and ass with a gallon of Audi silver?

It took several hours for the commotion to wane enough for us to sneak away. Upon receiving my summons from Audi's PR rep, I tossed my bag on the ground (no room for journalists' accoutrements, or anything else, for that matter) and we took off.

Inside, the car is anything but silver; in fact, I couldn't catch a glimpse of the exterior panels at all. The hood isn't visible from the passenger seat. It's deceptively small and toned. Everything within reach is expensive--there are no plebian plastics in the cabin at all. This point is oft-repeated in the press, but it didn't stick with me until I was enveloped in the car's fabrics, soft and sultry, like everything good I've ever read about harems. The seats are plush yet taut, the roof is unnervingly close, the frame is cagelike. Ducking through the door is an acrobatic feat. It would be womblike, if wombs were made of black alcantara. It would be comforting, the place for the best damn catnap I'd ever taken, if the ride wasn't thoroughly stimulating.

I held the brim of my baseball cap as the wind gusted through the tiny windows; the impact on my face was instant, like Superman: Ride of Steel at Six Flags. Onlookers stared. Other drivers yielded. Cameras snapped. My core muscles got a workout bracing my body in the seat while I touched up my lip gloss (a task for which the tiny side mirror was absolutely useless). For the first time in my life, I wished I wore really expensive sunglasses.

The Audi rep attempted to carry on a conversation, and I was quite surprised at how quiet the car runs, aside from the occasional requisite stomp on the gas. I hope he didn't think I was being snobbish, but I know I look ridiculous talking through a grin, and the R8 brought out the worst of my giddiness and my self-consciousness. It's a dangerous combination.

Fair warning: Without a charm school education, it's damn near impossible to make a graceful entrance to or exit from the R8. And there will be an audience, witnessing every stumble and cheesy grin against a backdrop of satiny silver. And did I mention there would be cameras?

I may get an encore encounter with the R8 sometime in the next couple weeks; I am eager to gauge its charisma over a longer period of time. I hope it's not silver, but I've got my credit card ready for those designer shades.