Written on February 17th, 2010 at 12:10am by 993C4S
The article below was first published last year in Total 911 Magazine
. I had always meant to share it with all of you but for some reason it never got posted. Well, that changes today. Any other “virgins” out there? 
Usually, if it’s fast, then it’s for me. Ever since I can remember I’ve been fascinated with speed. Fast cars. Fast food. Fast wome…(you get the idea); hence, a good portion of my passion for Porsche explained. Even still, the allure of Motorsport has always eluded me (much to my surprise and chagrin). That is until recently.
Prior to this past January [2009 that is] my exposure to motorsport has always consisted of trying to hide my ignorance with regard to race results and the proper spelling of the term: Is it motorsport or motorsports? Racing was the land of alphabet soup – I’m talking about acronyms like SCCA, ALMS, NASA, IMSA, etc. – and exotic vehicular vocabulary that required a specialized dictionary just to follow along. I would show up to my local PCA event eager for an evening of socializing with a group of like minded people. However, as soon as the talk turned to, “did you see so and so do such and such?” at whatever race was currently being discussed, my eyes would glaze over and I’d look for the closest bar, waiter or exit (in that order). Not only did I not know what was being discussed, I simply wasn’t interested. Hell, at least if you watched NASCAR you might see some awesome crashes (anyone who tells you they don’t watch NASCAR for the crashes is obviously lying).
I don’t know where my indifference came from. All the elements were there, fast cars, fast food, fast women (and I mean this literally as the amount of female drivers has jumped dramatically in recent years). Regardless, Porsche motorsports just couldn’t hold my interest. It was like watching paint dry. Or, even worse, golf.
All that changed this winter in Florida when I made my first trip, some might call it a pilgrimage, to the 24 Hours of Rolex at the Daytona International Speedway. I don’t really know why I went, something simply came over me. I was living in Florida for the winter and Daytona was only a few hours north. It seemed like the thing to do and a great way to kill a weekend. For those of you that have never experienced Daytona, it combines a storied track with the fastest Porsches on the planet, celebrity drivers and a carnival like atmosphere (literally, there’s a carnival there too).
Thanks to some friends at Guardian Angel Motorsports I was able to get my greasy hands on “hot-pit” passes that allowed me not only into the paddocks, but into the actual pits before, during and after the race. This type of access alone would probably convert most non believers. If it doesn’t, then motorsports are probably not for you. Not only are you inches from the action, you are part of it. Wandering around in the garage and paddock area affords you the opportunity to get up close and personal with the cars and crews of your favorite racing team not to mention rubbing elbows with the likes of Wolf Henzler, Patrick Long, Hurley Haywood, Darren Law, David Donohue and Joerg Bergmeister; just to name a few.
Did I mention the sound? If one of the things that put you in a Porsche in the first place was that exceptional exhaust note then get yourself to a race and you’ll quickly understand what I mean. There is nothing like a sport that can be heard long before it can be seen. The screams of joy howling from the power plants of the P1 and GT class cars are an assault to the senses the likes of which I never before experienced. I’ve been to track days with my local club(s) and even had the good fortune to drive some pretty impressive and acoustically active Porsches (1960 RS 60, 1973 Carrera RS, 1997 Turbo S, etc.) all of which did nothing to prepare me for this aural event. The cacophony from this chorus of cars will literally vibrate your body from head to toe. Note to self, buy ear-plugs for next race, you’ll still be able to hear just fine.
Now, here we are a few months later and no longer do I look for the nearest exit or closest adult beverage when a discussion on racing begins. In fact, you are more than likely to find me in the thick of things, holding my own and eager to show off my new found knowledge and fascinating stories from my most recent race experiences (Daytona, Sebring, a Koni Challenge race at Homestead-Miami International, etc.).
Did you know that Joerg Bergmeister and I have the same watch? He told me so himself when we met for the first time – subtly implying that we’ve met more than once (gotta love those hot-pit passes). Unfortunately, it’s not a Rolex Daytona!!
Related Porsche Posts
Porsche Purist Great Driver Series
Written on February 15th, 2010 at 12:10am by 993C4S
I forget what silly reality TV show I was watching when I heard the line, “Wow! What a coincidence, your eyes are the same color as my Porsche!” Thinking back I’m pretty sure the line was followed by the sound of someone choking on their beer while simultaneously invoking the universally known posture of “talk to the hand”. I’m fairly certain this little scene involved someone named “The Situation” and possibly a girl called “Shnooky” but I might be mistaken. If you’re not familiar with these cultural references, don’t worry, not only are you better off not knowing, I included a video below that’s along the same lines but might be more your speed.
Anyway, after dredging up memories nightmares of Joey Carrera (and friends), I started wondering, just how many ways has Porsche been worked into pick-up lines. A little Google research and before you could say “single for life” I had a short list of Porsche related pick-up lines. I present them here for you to do with them as you will. However, be warned, I make no guarantees that these lines will work for you. In fact, if you are daring stupid enough to use them, I would suggest bringing a dry shirt to change into after the recipient of said line chokes on their drink and spits it out all over you.
Porsche Pick-up Lines
- Social work is such a meaningful worthwhile work that I’ve decided to sell my Porsche and give up my lucrative law practice to join you!
- Pardon me, do you have room in your purse for the keys to my Porsche?
- Excuse me, but could I borrow your cell phone? I locked mine in my Porsche along with my Olympic Gold Medal, and I need to call my helicopter pilot to come pick me up.
- It’s a good thing I’ve got a Porsche, ’cause you’ve got some dangerous curves.
- While more of a pick-up “technique” vs. “line”, this one comes from some
resourceful desperate soul on the internet: I would park outside a club and once I started to chat up some worthy woman, I would reach in my pocket and hit the panic button on my alarm remote. I would do this several times over the course of several minutes. Before long someone from outside would come in and tell the DJ. The DJ would of course announce, “Does anyone here own a Porsche Turbo? Your alarm keeps going off.” Having not mentioned my car to the woman I was talking to, I would turn and say, “That sounds like my car.” Without fail, the women would respond, “You own a Porsche?”…
Are there more Porsche Pick-up Lines Floating Around?
The lines and stories above are what my exhaustive and scientific research found. Do you know of any others? Better yet, have you ever used one? If so, we want to hear your story.
Related Porsche Posts
Coming Soon To Craig’s List
Nobel Porsche Prize
The mid-life Crisis Porsche Explained
Written on January 21st, 2010 at 8:36pm by 993C4S
Written on December 23rd, 2009 at 4:14pm by 993C4S
Twas the night before Christmas, where all through the shop
Not an engine was leaking, not even a drop.
The tires were filled to their max PSI,
In hopes that dreaded flat spots won’t appear where they lie.
The drivers were warm, all snug on the couch,
Playing driving games in earnest so their skills would not slouch.
With batteries slowly charging from electricity on tap,
The Porsches were prepared for their long winter’s nap.
When from beyond the garage there arose such a roar,
I sprang from my PS3 to the polished concrete floor.
A click of a button and the garage doors did raise,
I looked out into the dark my mind in a haze.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to the objects below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Porsche Turbo for a gift, “is this a joke?” I did fear!
With a tap of the pedal the exhaust note sounds,
I knew in a moment a flat six had been found.
More rapid than a cheater in a Nissan GT-R,
With a new Porsche Turbo I know I’ll go far.
Now Doctor! Now Hoffman! now, Carlson and Butzi!
On, Elford! On, Patrick! on, David and Hurley!
To the start of the race! we’re off to the “Ring”!
Through the corners and chicanes this Turbo we’ll fling.
If we meet with an obstacle, forced air is induced,
Nothing feels quite the same as that twin turbo boost.
Around and around the “ring” we did go,
By holding the line we were anything but slow.
Lap after lap the tarmac flew past,
We knew from the start we’d never be last.
My foot on the gas, I’m ready to shift,
If you find the apex there’s no need to lift.
As we round the last corner the checkered flag in site,
This unfair race wasn’t even a fight.
The marshals guide us toward victory lane,
Where once again Podium is Porsche’s to gain.
Up upon the highest platform we stand,
Taking the win in Porsche’s homeland.
Time to go home, put the Turbo in gear,
We turn up the radio for all to hear.
The speakers are blaring as we drive out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”
Written on November 19th, 2009 at 12:22am by 993C4S
Talk about buried treasure! The picture below was snapped by Asylum blogger Elizabeth Brady. Ms. Brady was fortunate unfortunate enough to be in Cape Hatteras, N.C. last week during Hurricane Ida. When I first saw the picture below I thought it was Jeremy Clarkson bashing on Porsche again, but it seems this Cayman was just an unfortunate victim of Mother Nature.
Related Posts
Porsche Buyers Guide. 5 Reasons to Walk Away
Run Forrest, Run! How to Avoid the Most Common Car Scams
Porsche Pre-Purchase Inspection
Tree Falls on Porsche 993. Injures Driver
[Source: Elizabeth Brady via Asylum]
Written on November 12th, 2009 at 12:10am by 993C4S
The Nobel Porsche Prize (or How Ms. Joy Handley got her 911 C4S): Retired millworker Ray Handley of Norway, Maine was surprised to learn he’d been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. Handley told the scrum of excited reporters who crowded the front yard of the trailer he shares with his wife Winifred, his daughter Joy and his smelly 16-year-old golden retriever Carl that he didn’t recall entering any contest.
In Oslo, Norway, a spokesman for the 5-person Norwegian Nobel Committee that selects the yearly prizewinner wouldn’t explain why Mr. Handley was chosen over a field of more famous people. The selection process for all Nobels is a closely guarded secret. Self-nomination is not allowed.
Queried by foreign correspondents in Oslo about the coincidence of a committee in Norway honoring a resident of faraway Norway, Maine, the committee spokesman looked confused. The translator explained to the reporters that in the Norwegian languages Bokmå and Nynorski, the nation is known as Kongeriket Norge so, in effect, there was no linguistic coincidence. The translator then solemnly and movingly sang the Norwegian national anthem Ja vi elsker dette landet (Yes We Love This Land) while the group of correspondents quietly melted away.
Past Peace Prize winners include Albert Schweitzer, Martin Luther King, Jr., Nelson Mandela, Henry Kissinger*, Mother Teresa, Jimmy Carter, Desmond Tutu, Al Gore and the Dalai Lama.
[Henry Kissinger’s name is usually accompanied by an asterisk(*) on the list of winners because no one is sure how he came to be awarded the prize, although recent research suggests it may have been the result of a simple typo. At the same time in the early 1970s that U.S. Secretary of State Kissinger was directing military operations in Southeast Asia by day and squiring aging pneumatic Hollywood actresses at night, an Israeli named Henry Nissinger was attempting to broker Mideast peace talks by day and at night helping his wife get the kids ready for bed. So it’s likely than Henry N. was the actual Peace Prize candidate of that year, not Henry K. A case of mistaken identity. An admirer of Mr. Nissinger once remarked, Nissinger wuz robbed goddamn it!]
Neighbors of the Handleys opined that Mr. Handley’s prize was a lifetime achievement award for a man who never loses his temper and never stirs up trouble. In a half-century of adult life among difficult people, Handley has patched up numerous quarrels between his wife Winifred and her disagreeable sister; preempted disputes with his deranged next-door neighbor Herb by handing over all the windfall apples from Herb’s tree that landed on the Handley side of the stone wall; kept generations of local boys out of trouble by teaching them to whistle, whittle and fish; pacified impatient New York tourists at the local store by allowing them to cut into line ahead of him to pay for their gas and snack foods.
Among other notable achievements in a lifetime of self-effacement and imperturbability, Handley has apparently never once pushed his dog Carl out of his way with his foot; never refused to eat his wife’s truly awful codfish balls and noodle casserole; never threatened to move to Canada if his choice for president didn’t win the election. And he’s never uttered a word of complaint about his daughter Joy. He’s never chided her for her tattoos, piercings, combat boots and buzz cut; for being single at age 30 and still living at home; for getting a costly BA in Art History from Bowdoin, then choosing to make her living as a motorcycle mechanic. He’s never said a cross word about the sign on her bedroom door (Joy to the World: Keep Out!).
The Peace Prize consists of a gold medal, a diploma and a monetary grant worth about $1.2 million U.S. dollars. When Mr. Handley was asked by reporters how he would spend the million dollar prize money, Winifred, hearing of the money for the first time, swooned. Carl started barking at the reporters and actually nipped one of the people from People.
The Handleys took advantage of the diversion to escape back into their trailer and resume normal life. Mr. Handley sat in his chair, smoked his pipe, and leafed through a fishing magazine. The missus busied herself darning holes in her daughter’s cherished vintage Ramones T-shirt. Joy lay on the bed in her room, gazing thoughtfully at the posters of sleek foreign sports cars tacked to the walls. [There were Xena: Warrior Princess posters too, but that’s another story.]
The Royal Family of Sweden during the Nobel Foundation Prize Awards Ceremony at the Concert Hall in Stockholm, Sweden.
In the end, the laureate of Norway, Maine didn’t attend the December 10th presentation of the prize in Oslo, Norway. He couldn’t make it. December 10th is the date in Norway, Maine of the annual NFD Pancake Breakfast to benefit volunteer firemen, and Mr. Handley alone of the organizers can cook pancakes fast enough to keep hungry diners from getting impatient. When the Peace Prize committee realized that Handley wouldn’t attend the presentation in person, the disappointed members cried out in one voice, Ja vi hater denne utlending! (Yes we hate this foreigner!). Later they recovered their composure and apologized.
As soon as the million dollar check cleared, the Handleys bought a few things they’d long wanted but couldn’t previously afford. Mr. Handley splurged on a $114 Penell spinning combo rod & reel with top-grade cork handle, lightweight graphite reel seat and fold-down hook keeper. Mrs. Handley spent $120 on a Kenmore Self-threading Drop-in Bobbin Sewing Machine with 90 stitch-functions and one-stop buttonholer. Joy paid off her student loans, then treated herself to a $102,915 2009 Porsche 911 C4S AWD dipped in Arctic Silver Metallic paint over full Stone Gray leather interior with power comfort seats, BOSE stereo and XM Radio.
Mrs. Handley thought $102,915 was too much to spend on a car and said so at dinner. Joy bristled. Mr. Handley intervened. He said, “It has a top speed of one hundred and eighty-eight miles an hour, mother. That’ll come in handy on mornings Joy oversleeps and has to get to work in a hurry.” Mrs. Handley said, “A hundred and eighty-eight miles an hour! She works three blocks from here!” Mr. Handley said, “Say, this fish ball and noodle dish is good as ever. Any chance of a second helping?”
I don’t usually get political on this site (it is about Porsche after all) and I’m not about to now. However, when I read the story above in my PCA region’s quarterly newsletter, I just couldn’t stop laughing. I contacted the author for permission to repost it here. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
About the author: James Swan lives and writes in Vermont. He can be reached at Justmoulds at toast dot net.
Related Posts
The Mid-Life Crisis Porsche Explained
Changing the Oil in Your Porsche (Man vs Woman)
A Den of Porsche Infidelity
Porsche Cayman is a Dark Mistress (Part II of A Den of Porsche Infidelity)
Did Your Porsche See Its Shadow Today?
Written on October 16th, 2009 at 9:05am by 993C4S
Back in December of 2008 I published a post over on TTAC.com (The Truth About Cars) about how being seen driving a Porsche can increase your testosterone level. It didn’t seem like much of a stretch and after thinking it through seemed fairly obvious as well. Hmmm, medical science explains the mid-life crisis automotive purchase. Go figure.
Well now, in the event you had any doubts, Jalopnik recently quoted a new study that not only confirmed this first experiment, but took it one step further.
According to Jalopnik, “The study put 39 male volunteers into both a 1993 Toyota Camry and a Porsche 911 Carrera Cabriolet and let them drive the car around on a quiet road and on a pedestrian dense road where women would be looking at them. After each instance saliva was taken and testosterone levels measured. Surprise, surprise, the Camry didn’t effect levels at all, however, the Porsche caused sustained and elevated testosterone levels, with or without onlookers.”
Did you get the difference? The Porsche caused sustained and elevated testosterone levels, with or without onlookers.
So apparently now they’re saying it doesn’t matter if your seen or not. The simple act of driving a Porsche raises your testosterone level. Again I say, they needed a scientific study to prove this??? Who’s funding these studies? Seriously, can I get involved?
Lastly, I wonder if a guy’s having trouble getting his wife pregnant, could he get his doctor to write him a prescription for a new 911? More importantly will insurance pick up the tab?
Related Posts
Nothing, not a damn thing relates to this.
[Source: 993C4S, Jalopnik]
Next Page »
Email
