The old man laughed—a real, dusty laugh. “Rentals? Son, I’ve had that Aventador for eleven years. Bought it the day my wife left me. Best decision I ever made.”
“Nope,” the old man said. “Met her twenty miles back. She was doing a hundred and twenty, I was doing a hundred and thirty. Seemed a shame to drive alone.” 2 lamborghini
The driver of the Aventador stepped out. He was in his late sixties, dressed in worn jeans and a faded flannel shirt. Silver hair, crinkled eyes. He looked less like a supercar owner and more like a retired rancher. The old man laughed—a real, dusty laugh