Recollections of a "928 Experience"....

This will be challenging - let me give it a try. I still have "the grin" - so
let me try to translate that into words.

You look at it - and it is "there". Poised low, with an elongated hood, and
swept-back lines following thereafter, the outline says "drive me". So, you
take up the open invitation.

The door closes with a soft "thud", and you are in the "Zone". All is quiet,
the world melts away. Your thoughts of what you should be doing become
thoughts of what "is" - and what "is" surrounds you with perfection in
design and human engineering where "people" meet "Machine". The dash pod
looms close as you adjust it to your "zone". You adjust the seat, check the
pod, check the wheel - and look at what starts the beast. The key hangs
invitingly - beckoning your hand intervene.

You turn the key - and the "zone" throbs. Not the starkly rasping sound of a
flat-six, but rather - the dull throb of eight cylinders all beating to the
same rhythm - a calliope of machine, exhaust note - and the throbbing still
exists as a "grumble", not a "whine" that exists in other lesser
automobiles. Man has now truly "Met Machine". You are part of that "zone",
you are part of that "music" - and the "throbbing" continues.

Selecting first, the gear shifts into the gate. The clutch responds - silky
smooth to the touch - and your right foot presses gently. Anticipating your
needs - the "Machine" responds - the throbbing increases, the tone changes -
and you are still in the "zone". You are "the zone".

Second gear comes much as the first - but faster still. The throbbing changes
to match the rhythm of your pulse - faster, faster- until both the rhythm
and the throbbing feel like they will, or must - change. But neither give
away to the beat or the rhythm or the throbbing which transcends both man
and machine . Faster still, the "Machine" asks for more - and you acquiesce
to the needs of the machine - bringing into 3rd, your foot presses ever
gently again.

And "the Machine" doesn't respond, rather, it "anticipates". Surely - it
"knows". The headlights, sunk low into the fenders, can surely see. They
anticipate - and see where you want to place the "Machine" - and it takes
you there. You are "one", with this machine, as you don't "drive" it - you
enjoin it in your thoughts - and it responds. Steering is light to the touch
- and it responds. You imagine it around the corner - and it is there. You
believe that you are "one" with the "Machine" - and you are.

Pressing the brake pedal, as you slow both your heart and the throbbing of the
machine. And it is firm. It reassures you that the "Beast" can be reigned
in - slowing, stopping - but eager to do it all again. And it beckons you
to do so, The dull throbbing through your seat demands it be so. And again,
you respond to the "Machine".

Every time you are in the zone - you are the "Machine". And this Machine is
your 928 - where "Man Meets Machine"


John D.

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