Saturday night drive story/Very cool/A little bit long but worth it reading
02-16-2004, 10:18 AM
#1
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Saturday night drive story/Very cool/A little bit long but worth it reading
This story is just amazing! Read it from a magazine this morning and I had my "keyboard-speedster" daughter type it for me:
>>>>"03 Porsche 911 C4S/Education Through Being Stupid" by Scott Oldham.
Sometimes when you drive a car as special as a Porsche 911 Carrera 4S, it's your duty to school others: here's why my car is better than yours. Last Saturday night was one of those times.
I was driving home from one of the many philanthropic programs I support. It was after 10, and I knew that if I got home by 11, I could settle in and enjoy a rerun of "Friends" and a nice glass of chardonay, a fine way to end a wonderful week of hard work and underpay, traffic was light, and I was making the most of the Porche's excellent high-speed stability. Usually I don't drive so fast, but I really wanted to see "Friends". My sixth sense was telling me it was the one when Ross wears the leather pants, plus I knew the California Highway Patrol changes shifts at 10 p.m.
So, with the digital speedometer reading exactly 100 mph, I was humming along the westbound free way, minding my own buisness and looking for Christina Aguilera on the radio because I think she's a much bigger talent than Britney. About 20 miles from home, I came up on a pack of tuned Hondas with the requisite big wings and load exhausts. They were cruising around 90 mph, being good citizens. I didn't even look over as I cruised past. After all, I'm in the Porsche. But one of the Honda Heads, a guy in a Prelude, felt frisky and latched onto my tail.
The school bell had wrung.
Leaving it in sixth, I increased my speed to 105 mph. Then 110. Then 115. Then 120. I couldn't believe it, but but as 125 mph I could still hear his obnoxious exhaust buzzing in the blind spot over my left shoulder.
Time to teach.
I downshifted to fifth gear and hit it down. The Porsche burst forward like it had been rearended by a bullet train. I could hear his exhause go up an octave in an attempt to keep up, but he couldn't. Not many cars could.
At such velocity, at night, on a public roadway, it's tough to check the speedometer or the mirrors, but I glanced down just after I shifted to sixth gear and reintroduced the throttle pedal to the carpet: 143 mph. My trusted sixth sense, the same one that alerted me to the "Friends" storyline, told me the Prelude had been successfully left behind.
What a car. Its behavior at that very stupid speed can only be described as dead stable. Despite expansion joints and other road irregularities, it never became nervous. Never made a bad move. Even when the suspension was forced into its full range of motion, and the chassis went into that classic corner-to-corner weight transfer every 911 driver has experienced for 40 years, the car's four big Michelins never even hinted that they might lose grip with the road.
With my luck sufficiently pressed, I slowed down to 85 and tried to blend in with the Camrys, Accords and Suburbans. I'll admit it: My heart was beating like I had to run up 10 flights of stairs and my brow wore just a hint of moisture. Fun.
About a minute later, just as I located the Christina classic, "Jeanie in a Bottle," on one of the easy-listening stations, my students came buzzing by like a swarm of killer bees, first the Prelude, then the throng of Civics. Not one looked over. Isn't education wonderful.
>>>>"03 Porsche 911 C4S/Education Through Being Stupid" by Scott Oldham.
Sometimes when you drive a car as special as a Porsche 911 Carrera 4S, it's your duty to school others: here's why my car is better than yours. Last Saturday night was one of those times.
I was driving home from one of the many philanthropic programs I support. It was after 10, and I knew that if I got home by 11, I could settle in and enjoy a rerun of "Friends" and a nice glass of chardonay, a fine way to end a wonderful week of hard work and underpay, traffic was light, and I was making the most of the Porche's excellent high-speed stability. Usually I don't drive so fast, but I really wanted to see "Friends". My sixth sense was telling me it was the one when Ross wears the leather pants, plus I knew the California Highway Patrol changes shifts at 10 p.m.
So, with the digital speedometer reading exactly 100 mph, I was humming along the westbound free way, minding my own buisness and looking for Christina Aguilera on the radio because I think she's a much bigger talent than Britney. About 20 miles from home, I came up on a pack of tuned Hondas with the requisite big wings and load exhausts. They were cruising around 90 mph, being good citizens. I didn't even look over as I cruised past. After all, I'm in the Porsche. But one of the Honda Heads, a guy in a Prelude, felt frisky and latched onto my tail.
The school bell had wrung.
Leaving it in sixth, I increased my speed to 105 mph. Then 110. Then 115. Then 120. I couldn't believe it, but but as 125 mph I could still hear his obnoxious exhaust buzzing in the blind spot over my left shoulder.
Time to teach.
I downshifted to fifth gear and hit it down. The Porsche burst forward like it had been rearended by a bullet train. I could hear his exhause go up an octave in an attempt to keep up, but he couldn't. Not many cars could.
At such velocity, at night, on a public roadway, it's tough to check the speedometer or the mirrors, but I glanced down just after I shifted to sixth gear and reintroduced the throttle pedal to the carpet: 143 mph. My trusted sixth sense, the same one that alerted me to the "Friends" storyline, told me the Prelude had been successfully left behind.
What a car. Its behavior at that very stupid speed can only be described as dead stable. Despite expansion joints and other road irregularities, it never became nervous. Never made a bad move. Even when the suspension was forced into its full range of motion, and the chassis went into that classic corner-to-corner weight transfer every 911 driver has experienced for 40 years, the car's four big Michelins never even hinted that they might lose grip with the road.
With my luck sufficiently pressed, I slowed down to 85 and tried to blend in with the Camrys, Accords and Suburbans. I'll admit it: My heart was beating like I had to run up 10 flights of stairs and my brow wore just a hint of moisture. Fun.
About a minute later, just as I located the Christina classic, "Jeanie in a Bottle," on one of the easy-listening stations, my students came buzzing by like a swarm of killer bees, first the Prelude, then the throng of Civics. Not one looked over. Isn't education wonderful.
02-16-2004, 06:48 PM
#2
Burning Brakes
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I also deal with the little put put honda and their dreams of smoking my Targa - Dream on, sometimes Class is in session and sometimes not....Once I hit the 160+ mark, when I looked in the rear view - nothing was there, but the smile on my face..
02-21-2004, 02:39 PM
#4
These stories are getting so old, its the internet folks an people wite these stories for their own fantasy's and dreams. On line everyone owns new C4s's and TT's and they're all dumb enough to go 145 on public roads and of course then win every street race. Get over it.
02-23-2004, 12:40 PM
#5
More fun and realistic is leaving them far behind on an interstate on-ramp in my 356. Sure, they will catch up to me on the open highway, and beat me taking off at a red light, but the corners and twisties are MINE dammit!
