I find my love of cars hard to explain and even harder to justify. The only thing I can relate it to is the fact that I spent most of my evenings after school helping my old man out in the garage. He owned a 4×4 sales company and did most of the servicing himself. He would patiently explain to me how everything worked while I obeyed orders such as “Will you get a 5 and a 6 spanner and the WD40!?” Like many garages the only place you’d find things is by searching in the places where it shouldn’t be.

So why does owning a DB9 scare me. It’s not only my dream car but it’s my dream. You’re probably thinking that it’s a very materialistic dream to have. I just love everything about it, from its glorious exhaust notes to its iconic grille. If the day comes that I can afford one, I’d still have to think twice about it. What if it ends up being nothing like I imagined? Isn’t this the reason they say you should never meet your hero?

Maybe the DB9 is better off staying a dream and a poster in my room rather than a car in my garage.

Words by Niall