Where Does One in Pursuit Choose to Live?
Somewhere in the beauty of nature—with amazing views, and curvy roads of course.
On a plot large enough to build that dream garage. Amongst the woods maybe, so no one would have to know how much time you spend tuning, polishing or admiring your ride.
It’s not natural to be so infatuated with a piece of metal on some rubber, right?
It’s only for those who sing in the tune of the pursuit.
We’re not alone, however—there are many more.
The small joys that come with being a pursuiter.
Let me tell you what has gotten a grin on my face today.
I was driving back home from the city late afternoon. Almost an hour of boring, flat land. The kind you want to hit a NOS button and time warp through.
To hurry up and get to the other side—closer to that small slice of heaven that you accept graciously as a gift every day.
That short, winding road. The only way to get home.
My body was coming back to its senses as I came out of the “warp zone.” Blood pressure and heart rate adjusting for what’s about to come.
It’s time for that daily, and only special-to-you handshake. The one where you know the road like the back of your hand.
The minutes that can take away the stress the day may have brought.
That last song before the party is over.
My vision sharpens as I notice a Tesla graciously cruising in front of me.
I’ve not owned one, but I have noticed… certain patterns in Tesla drivers’ road behavior.
Not thinking much of it, I cautiously and safely switch lanes to get around it. As I begin to pass, I realize that the Tesla was stuck behind another car.
Shortly after I pass them, the Tesla approaches behind me. It accelerates as if it had heard my thoughts about Tesla drivers.
I had not seen the driver to know who it was, but I had already acknowledged something:
This last song is not going to be one without a dance.
That moment you know you’ve got another pursuiter to play with.
Important to note—I had a passenger beside me.
She heard me say, “I think the Tesla wants to play.”
She doesn’t miss a thing.
Engine noise or sudden acceleration would spark unnecessary attention from the passenger police.
So the choice was clear.
Smooth, clean lines. No abrupt changes.
Everyone knows what the first turn or two are about. It’s like a short introduction. Everything about a car’s behavior on the road tells you who they are.
The approach. The line choice. And a smooth exit… if it’s actually in the works.
To my surprise, I saw all three.
We had expressed and clearly understood who we each were on the asphalt.
The rest of the climb felt like smooth synchronicity—an absolute pleasure.
Flowing from apex to apex, never fully unloading—just easing out of one corner before loading into the next.
There are many Teslas on the road, but I knew exactly who it was.
I was amazed how one person’s driving style can become a piece of their identity.
Maybe not precise enough to serve as a fingerprint—but distinct enough to stand out in a crowd of Teslas.
Later, I confirmed who it was and sent them one message:
“Now that’s some Asphalt Pursuit stuff, baby!”