DB9 story, Irvine, CA. First sunny day of the year, ladies in summer dresses, top down (on the car, not the ladies)
Sport cats on a V12, biblically loud, sounds like Old Testament wrath of God doing some smiting.
Floored it off the lights past a UPS truck only to find a CHP right in front of it. Went past him accelerating through 65 in a 45.
Resigned to the inevitable I pull into the right lane at the next light, looking expectantly in the rear view mirror for the flashing lights, but instead he pulls up alongside me, winds his window down and says Good Morning.
“Sorry, sorry, can’t help myself, I honestly have no excuse”.
He laughs, says it the most awesome noise he’s ever heard, and he’ll let me off if I do it again off these lights too.
Seriously, I’m not making this up.
I pull away at perhaps 80%, something just wouldn’t let me give it 100%, but slowed up around 50mph until he caught me up, waved, overtook me and drove off on his way.
Epilogue: 30 seconds later when I was home in my garage, giggling to myself at my lucky escape, I indulged myself in a rather juvenile throttle blip as I shut the engine down, forgetting (as is so easy to do an Aston as the gearshift is in the form of buttons on the dash and not a more traditional lever) that I was still in gear. 6 inches later I did $18,000 of damage to the front of the car and moved a supporting wall 2 inches.