About mid week, my wife decided that it was time to drive down to Atlanta, about 250 miles south or so, for intense shopping with daughter Becky. Becky is soon to leave for a semester in Italy, and "needs" some new fashions. Even though she is going to the fashion place itself. But after all these years, i have learned to keep my trap shut when the Women are talking about shopping. So arranged with son Chris, who lives in Greenville, SC, that after work friday, i would drive down, we would meet up, and go either in his Boxster, or the Great Stroker. I even washed and waxed my trusty SPF the day before, so it just gleemed, silently waiting for me to crank it for the trip. I even packed it, so all i had to do was belt up, and go.
But Friday dawned with sleet and rain, so as the day passed, i kept looking out my window to see what Old Man Winter was up to, and constantly checked my computer to watch the weather doppler, seeing the green symbol for rain move slowly east. About dusk, finished the day's work, raced home, jumped into the red/white stripe SPF, flicked on the A'sump, and in a moment, brought the reluctant cold motor to life, no choke on the Pro HP Holley. As soon as i had the
oil pressure stabilized, backed out, and headed south, the roads by then fairly dry. Met up with Chris, who wanted to drive his yellow Boxster down to Atlanta, so we put the Noah cover on the SPF, and romped on down I-85; after awhile, we switched out, and i took over the driving.
His German road machine is just marvelous, wind tight, warm, even can set the temp to just precisely what is desired. A roomy cockpit, lots of leg and shoulder room, nice tunes on the radio, effortless, fast cruising, superb brakes, quiet, endlessly revs to it's 7000 rpm redline, all in all a perfect GT car.
Had a fine time in Atanta, shopped, got a thick pair of gauntlet gloves for my cold hands when i drive my roadster, dined, and Sat afternoon, headed back. Lynne and Becky with a full trunk in her new Jaguar sports X series, which she loves, and has told me the best part of her new Jag is the power and the brakes.
We split up at Greenville, the girls heading north, Chris and I turned off to his apartment. There, uncovered my car, and while several men from the apt's came out to see it start, i climbed in. Chris put the chock in front of wheel, so i would not roll into the curb when i started it. Climbed in, the new fabric top on of course, it being below freezing, and instantly noted how cramped my cockpit is. No room to put my left arm over the door, with the sidecurtains there, hard to reach and get the Simpson's over my shoulder, due to my leather GI, having to pull and tugg to get room on the lap belts, then finally, got it running, with much coughing and wheezing, and hissing, (the engine, not me). Chris pulled out the chock, and i eased back, and headed home.
The car is so small, so noisy, the sidecurtains clattered, i had to constantly roll my foot onto the throttle to keep the engine running at every light, it was cold and drafty, my hands were cold even in my army pilot's nomex gloves, the side vision was limited. I just couldn't hardly imagine how i have driven this car so comfortably so many thousands of miles, then i reflected that i had just stepped out of Chris' Boxster, and it made the differences profound.
But soon, the Tremec warmed up, the heater started blowing hot air, the big Olthoff motor was warm and friskly, the gages all read right, the fine leather seats softened, the cockpit lost its claustraphobic feeling, and as i hurtled past other lesser cars on a long, two lane merge lane, it all felt right again. Roomy, warm, tight, and in the cold night air, so formidably fast.
an hour later, as i cut thru the hilly, curvy back roads heading home, i just marveled at what a superlative road machine this car really is, lacking for nothing, as the sidepiples reverberating off the trees and forests, the lights piercing the dark, illuminating the next corner and valley.
All was right again in my little tiny world, in that snug purposeful cockpit, in this great State i live in.
Porsche Vs. Replica, driving them
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