Picking up strangers in a McLaren is harder than you’d think
Though my colleague David Booth cautioned back in the fall that the McLaren 570S isn’t to be called a “supercar” — at McLaren’s behest — try telling that to the throngs of people who crowd around it no matter where you go. Try to explain that all this sexy, shiny, sleekness isn’t a supercar.
The Ventura Orange is a retina burner. It’s virtually the same colour as the 2015 650S Spyder I took to Toronto’s Ronald McDonald House last summer, which actually inspired this year’s choice of challenge: When you’re driving a car that people are snapping pictures of, whether it’s moving or not, who wouldn’t want to go for a ride?
The plan was simple: Rig up the McLaren with a couple of GoPro cameras, pull up to a bus stop and offer people a ride. Instead of just staring and Instagramming, they could actually hop in. I mean, that’s the offer everyone always wants to hear when they see this car, right? We actually christened it our own LRT — Lorraine Rapid Transit. Many people took pictures. A few even got rides.
We thought we’d be making people take a number, but it turns out that even with an accompanying pace car — a hot blue convertible Mustang with a driver and videographer pressed into service — some people were a little spooked.
It wasn’t me; I look like the suburban mother of two that I am. I presented photo ID in my outstretched hand, and even a section of the newspaper to prove I existed and McLaren knew I had its car. But over and over, I’d pull up and people would just stare in stunned silence at the car.
Initially I just dropped the window and yelled across the passenger seat — unlike last year’s car, this one wasn’t a convertible — but it quickly became apparent I’d have to hop out to prove I wasn’t a serial killer with good taste in cars. The thing is, when those scissored doors swing up, we move from awesome to overwhelming.
“How’d you like to save your bus fare today?” I asked one young woman. She actually took a few steps with me, but hesitated. In that gap, Jermaine Nelson moved in. With an ear-to-ear grin, he strolled toward the car.
“Wait. Is it stolen?” was his first question. In a decade of driving amazing cars, I’ve never been asked that.
I asked where he was headed, and he lamented that he wasn’t going farther than he was.
“I’m actually going to a job interview,” he said with a grin. Deciding this was absolutely a good omen, Jermaine hopped in and we got him to his job interview — way, way too early.
Sarah Gannage had a better idea. “Oh, yes, my feet are killing me. But can we pretend my apartment isn’t just up ahead?” She closed her eyes and pushed out in the seat and asked me if this is how rich feels. I admitted I only borrow the feeling, but yes, I guess it must. We threw in a few extra blocks to make the experience last longer.
The last pickup was the easiest. I spied a friend of my son’s at a stop and told him to hop in. Like the cobbler’s children going unshod, many of the kids around here end up missing out on rides in fancy cars because of time constraints and being away at school. Kevin Devine instantly figured out he’d be too early for his destination, so we opted to take a scenic route instead.
“Look at how everybody stares at this car,” he said, amazed. It is definitely a different feeling from the inside out.
It took pulling up to a bus shelter with a lone young man standing in it to crystallize the day for me. With no traffic around, I hopped out to talk to him. He couldn’t take his eyes off the car.
“You wanna go for a ride?” I told him who I was, indicated to my crew in the next car and told him what we were doing. His eyes never left the car. “No,” he said. “It’s OK.”
“No problem,” I replied. “But it’s legit, and you’ll be safe.”
He got in the car. Turns out he was a car fanatic, knew much about the car, and was working and in school, saving for his own car. It wouldn’t be a McLaren, but it would be special. He actually worked in a related field, one I promised him I wouldn’t reveal. Like Jermaine from my first ride, this lad got to work far too early.
As we pulled into the parking lot, he tucked in a grin and agreed it had been worth the gamble.
“You can just tell your mom it was that lady from the paper and TV,” I told him with a smile.
“Are you kidding? If I tell her I did this, she’d kill me.”
Next time I do this I’m going back to social media. Keep an eye on your Twitter feeds for @ drivingdotca and @tweeetlorraine. These amazing cars are meant to be shared. Note: Nothing was harmed in the making of this story. No children were approached, there were no hidden cameras, press credentials were on display and no laws were broken. We did discover an orange McLaren is probably not the best car to use when carrying out a covert operation.