Automobile

Oct. 18th, 2015 6:00AM , a convoy of Porsches, air and water cooled, ranging from years 1987 to 2015, made their way through rural back roads of northern Westchester, New York. I was piloting a 1990 964 Carrera 4, black on black, wedged in between a 1987 930 Turbo leading me through the darkness, and a 991 GT3 tailing behind in my stream. This extraordinary procession of flat sixes roaring through some of our greatest neighborhood roads seemed unreal. The squat tail end of the Turbo kneeling down as the driver accelerated into the night, the fallen leaves swirling around in the vortex of the whale tail. I was cocooned in typical air cooled mania, my dials glowing, the rasp behind me, the mechanical spoiler rising when I brushed 50mph. We carried onwards down sweeping roads, surrounded by a sunken moss forest, our schwarz colored 911's pushed on by the spirit of Ferdinand himself.