I sat low in the body-hugging sport seats, much lower than I had anticipated. With the ignition being on the left side of the steering wheel, I incorrectly turned the key to the left. Nothing happened. Akwardly, I pulled it back to the right, and vrrm came the thrum of the 3.6L. The exhaust gurgled pleasantly.
The clutch was a little more firm than I had imagined it would be, but the gears were not clunky or stiff. Everything came together nicely and fit perfectly into place. Pulling out of the parking lot, I gave the car half throttle. With the moon roof open, tones of pure exhaust ecstasy met my ears. It was hard not to smile.
The 911 felt extremely planted to the ground on each turn. It didn't creak or squirm or shake at all! Just smooth, buttoned-down cornering. Finally I reached the freeway and rode the gears all the way to redline. The tires chirped going into second and third, despite most of the weight being in the rear end and torque not surpassing 275 lb/ft.
No one really noticed me as I merged into traffic and cruised, smiling, for miles. A black Porsche that's nearly 10 years old doesn't really turn heads. And that was fine with me. I didn't have much seat time in the car of my dreams, but every second surpassed my every expectation. I have no doubt that Porsche has the best recipe for a sports car.
Thanks for reading.-Biggs
