Jason Harper

I pull my buddy’s Ferrari 458 Italia off the racetrack and into the pit lane, brake dust showering the tire rims like fairy powder.

Twelve miles per gallon. That’s all the Jeep Grand Cherokee SRT8 4x4 gets around town. As a privileged, high-horsepower SUV, this special edition seems primed for a Hummer level of vilification.

Sitting over there in the racetrack pits is a $140,000 Porsche 911 GT3 RS, one of the most fearsome street-legal sports cars in the world. Yet it sits unused and unloved, like a child’s castaway toy.

The McLaren supercar is as close as you’ll ever come to an asphalt-bound fighter jet. I’m screaming down a racetrack straightaway so quickly that I’d swear my silver car actually has after-burners.

Henrik Fisker gets nostalgic as he reminisces about the cars of the 1950s. He loves oversized, over-the-top designs with soaring fins and lush interiors.

Driving through Manhattan in an oversized Ford F-150 SuperCrew pickup, my major concern is not decapitating any hapless cyclists.

Highway 101 just south of San Francisco, and the orderly lines of traffic are holding a steady 65 miles per hour (105 kilometer per hour), placid and in no apparent hurry. California calm.

What was it, 10, 20 years since you took a driver’s education class? You passed your exam, got your license and school’s been out ever since. Shame. You could use a little help behind the wheel.

The BMW 3 Series sedan might as well be the official ride of the up-and-coming businessperson. The go-getter who likes going fast.

It’s called “Godzilla,” and the nickname is apt. The Nissan GT-R is fully capable of frightening children and terrorizing cities.

Two garage attendants are talking about the svelte Mini Cooper Coupe I’ve just parked. One says he likes it, the other laughs. “Are you kidding? That’s a chick car.” The first man’s face falls.

A big rock sits on the outside edge of a notorious switchback on Los Angeles’s Mulholland Drive. Too often that ill-placed boulder acts like a black hole: Drivers and motorcyclists try so hard to avoid it that they get pulled in. Ka-boom!