As we look forward to the first snowfall of the year tomorrow, I am amazed by the 70 degree weather today. Knowing fully well that this means that my days for top down driving are done for the season, I am driving the pants off my little red wonder. Keeping it in the power-band between 3800 and 5500 rpm, like a gleaming gladius, she scythes through traffic effortlessly with her signature roar. For the first time in several weeks, I manage to get three drives instead of the usual up and down blast down the 40 to blow out the cobwebs.
As she scrabbles though the hoi polloi, she catches up with a much younger 991 Cabrio S. Traffic parts for this little caravan of the newer and much larger Gray modern car with the smaller, louder and brasher Guards Red classic . The arrival of my exit breaks up this fun ride as I head home. Pulling into my garage, I notice my phone flashing, the ringer drowned out by the twin spark double exhaust noisemaker behind me.
It’s my wife calling me. Joy, oh joy! An errand. I need to pick my daughter up from Kirkwood. Not waiting for further instructions, I embark. A smile wider than the city’s rivers spreads across my face. Getting back on the exciting merge of the Big Bend ramp onto the exiting traffic for Hanley, the little car that could, does what she does well. In imperious style, she dismisses the bourgeoisie as she grabs her lane and lays down the hammer, storming into the fast lane with a snort as we downshift into 3 and back into 4.
All warmed up, we reach our destination as we await my daughter. The young teen reaches her dad’s boomer car and says, “It is too nice a day, to have the top up”. My already wide smile grows to transcontinental proportions, as we transform from sport coupe to open race car. Keeping it in 2 and 3, we drive through woods as the car bursts into full song, the wind in our hair. Reaching the expressway, the growl grows to a wail and then a scream as we hit 6000 rpm in 2 and 3. As always, traffic seems to give way to us, seemingly afraid of the scarlet demon’s violent tendencies. Blasting down the expressway, targa stowed in the rear, catching the last warm day of the year, the best feeling in the world.