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The light turned red. To my left sat a brand-new European sports car, all carbon fiber and turbo whistles. The driver looked over, smirked, and revved. He saw four doors. A Cadillac badge. He figured it was just another luxury sedan. What he didn’t know… …was that it was a second-generation CTS-V. Under the hood sat a supercharged LSA V8, whining like a fighter jet ready for takeoff. Cammed. Headers. Sticky tires. Everything about it screamed one thing: Don’t underestimate me. The light turned green. The blower let out its scream. The rear tires hazed into smoke before they hooked, and the CTS-V launched like it had been kicked by God Himself. First gear disappeared. Second slammed home. The supercharger echoed off every building on the street. By the time I looked in the mirror, the European car was just another pair of headlights fading into the distance. At the next light, the driver finally caught up. He rolled down his window and asked, “What the hell is in that thing?” I smiled. “Just American muscle wearing a suit.” Because that’s what the second-gen CTS-V is. A leather-lined luxury car during the week… A tire-shredding, supercharged monster on the weekend. One of the last true American muscle sedans. And every time that blower starts to sing… It reminds the world that horsepower never goes out of style.