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The sun glinted off a discarded wine bottle, poking its neck out of the bin at the side of a local house. The heat was visible. I clicked the keyfob as I turned the corner, and was met by a vision of the Machine. A sweeping curve of automotive nirvana; a design icon; a wave to be surfed. The Machine. My Machine. My 911.
The window moved down slightly as I opened the door, causing me to smile. It was the little touches - the attention to detail. The perfect marriage of necessity, beauty and function. I slithered into the drivers seat and felt at home, sinking into the hot black leather. The key met its slot and I turned. The car growled into life. Had the bespoke exhaust system genetically engineered the host? Wolf to werewolf? It seemed so. I smiled again, blipping the throttle a touch for a replay before clunking the door shut, cocooning myself within the mothership. Windows down – check. Shades on – check. Cue “Bad to the Bone” as the soundtrack, select reverse and get the hell outta here.
I arced backwards out of the drive onto the road. The car felt smooth and effortless. First gear and forward motion. The steering wheel felt chunky in my grip. Out of my side street onto the main road for some slow traffic warming up before heading to the serpentine country lanes I knew well. Lets see what this baby can do. Plant the throttle in first and the car lurches forward, seemingly happy to be let loose. A quick change to second and watch the revs rise and the noise swell. 2k, 3k, 4k – the car is pulling like a rabid fox on heat and I’m laughing my head off. 5k, 6k, close to the red and into third. The gearbox is so smooth and sure. The road curves and I turn my hands, the car turning in response and accelerating all the while. This is driving. Sharp turn approaches and I stab on the brakes. They need a meaty right foot to really bite, but somehow this makes them more tactile. Downshift. The car slows and I take a left, a right and bury it again in second. I feel pushed back in my seat and ram the stick to third. Boy I love that wall of torque at 4k, pushing me back in the seat with the engine barking and howling and screaming. Overtake some flotsam and I’m flying, into the horizon. Into life. Into
work.
Man I love this car.
The window moved down slightly as I opened the door, causing me to smile. It was the little touches - the attention to detail. The perfect marriage of necessity, beauty and function. I slithered into the drivers seat and felt at home, sinking into the hot black leather. The key met its slot and I turned. The car growled into life. Had the bespoke exhaust system genetically engineered the host? Wolf to werewolf? It seemed so. I smiled again, blipping the throttle a touch for a replay before clunking the door shut, cocooning myself within the mothership. Windows down – check. Shades on – check. Cue “Bad to the Bone” as the soundtrack, select reverse and get the hell outta here.
I arced backwards out of the drive onto the road. The car felt smooth and effortless. First gear and forward motion. The steering wheel felt chunky in my grip. Out of my side street onto the main road for some slow traffic warming up before heading to the serpentine country lanes I knew well. Lets see what this baby can do. Plant the throttle in first and the car lurches forward, seemingly happy to be let loose. A quick change to second and watch the revs rise and the noise swell. 2k, 3k, 4k – the car is pulling like a rabid fox on heat and I’m laughing my head off. 5k, 6k, close to the red and into third. The gearbox is so smooth and sure. The road curves and I turn my hands, the car turning in response and accelerating all the while. This is driving. Sharp turn approaches and I stab on the brakes. They need a meaty right foot to really bite, but somehow this makes them more tactile. Downshift. The car slows and I take a left, a right and bury it again in second. I feel pushed back in my seat and ram the stick to third. Boy I love that wall of torque at 4k, pushing me back in the seat with the engine barking and howling and screaming. Overtake some flotsam and I’m flying, into the horizon. Into life. Into
work. Man I love this car.
Yep - national holiday for most people in France today, so empty country roads and a 911 turbo first thing this morning on the way to work. A lovely feeling, but if it was like that every day I would lose my licence - wide & smooth country road limited to 70 kph but I was touching 180 on a couple of the straights.
BliarOut said:
Still in love with it then Marc? How does it compare with a Tiv?
Definitely lovin it mate! It's a complete and utter totally different animal to the tiv. The tiv felt a bit like it was held together with string, and the excitement was obtained knowing you were pretty much one step away from death (mega fab noise and grunt with the griff though). This thing is the consumate professional, but can be lairy if required. The exhaust note is just exquisite!
Summer is gonna be fun.... still enjoying your cabrio?
alltorque said:Like, yes, enjoy, yes, love... Not really
Still in love with it then Marc? How does it compare with a Tiv?
Definitely lovin it mate! It's a complete and utter totally different animal to the tiv. The tiv felt a bit like it was held together with string, and the excitement was obtained knowing you were pretty much one step away from death (mega fab noise and grunt with the griff though). This thing is the consumate professional, but can be lairy if required. The exhaust note is just exquisite!
Summer is gonna be fun.... still enjoying your cabrio?
Prepares to be shot down in flames but I had more fun in my Boxstaa
Mind you, I did hoon it to completely unnaceptable speeds yesterday with the top down and it put a huge grin on my face
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