In 1976, I was playing catch with my friend on the front lawn of his house. In the distance we heard a howling roar wailing up our street. As the black streak came racing towards us, the screaming terror came to a halt. It was the first time I had seen a Ferrari Daytona in person. The driver was the older brother of a mutual friend of ours. He’d graduated college and we’d learned he was working for an advertising agency. “Whaddaya think boys? V12, 5-speed, Borganni wired wheels. Pretty neat huh?” I didn’t have the heart to correct his Italian but we both nodded in approval. He sped away with a big grin on his face, winding up first gear up, taking second, and disappearing into the neighborhood. I looked over at my friend and nodded affirmatively, “Advertising dude…Ad-ver-tising.”
