I would love to say I’m not here to brag, but let’s not kid ourselves. I’m a Ferrari. All I ever do is brag. It’s impossible not to act like I’m better than all the other cars because we are, objectively, better than all other cars. Even among other Ferraris, though, I am better than almost all of them. If you didn’t immediately know when you first laid eyes on the sensual purity of my Italian design, I am . Only 598 others like me were ever built.

When I pull up to a hotel, I get parked out front so that other people can pay attention to me and talk about how special I am. “Oh my gosh! A Ferrari!” they all say, and rightly so. I am worth more than three-quarters of a million dollars and will likely soon cross into seven-figure territory. After all, there are only 125 U.S.-market Ferrari 599 GTOs in existence. I get all the attention because I deserve all the attention. Which is why my latest trip was so upsetting.

Upon arrival at the hotel, I received my normal treatment. The valet parked me prominently out front for everyone to appreciate. As I prepared for compliment after compliment and my place in more selfies than most cars will experience in ten lifetimes, something went terribly wrong. A bunch of old cars showed up. Old German cars. And for some reason, the valets didn’t park them in some dark corner of the darkest reaches of the parking garage. They parked them on the lawn in front of the hotel. In front of me.

What’s worse, is that hundreds of people showed up talking about something called “Luftgekuhlt Chattanooga.” Gross. Even worse, they couldn’t have cared less about me and my 6.0-liter V12 or my Enzo-beating Fiorano lap time. Nope. All they wanted to look at was a bunch of fancy old Volkswagens. I, for one, am pissed. Infuriated. Offended to my core. I am supposed to be the star of the show, as is my birthright. This is not how you treat an ultra-rare, valuable Ferrari.

Just look at these cars. Can you believe they were the stars of the show and not me? The only reason you buy a Porsche is because you’re too poor to maintain the Ferraris you bought to get on the list to buy a different Ferrari you only kind of wanted so that eventually you might be considered for a build slot for the Ferrari you originally wanted. Is the American education system really so bad that none of these people knew what a Ferrari was?

I mean, what even is a 1987 Kremer Porsche 962C? A 1967 Porsche 906? And who is this Brian Redman that people keep talking about? Am I supposed to know who Jeff Zwart is? Patrick Long? Clearly, they can’t be any good at racing, or else Ferrari would have hired them.

This offense is beyond the pale, and I want to make it clear that it is completely unacceptable. Every single one of these Kult members is an insult to my storied Italian pedigree, and rest assured, my lawyer will be contacting that hotel. They will be paying for offending my honor. I am a very rare Ferrari. How dare you pay attention to other cars! I mean, just look at them. Are they really more important than me? Really?