classic. I'm only 32 years old, damnit! I am supposed to be getting all
e***d about the latest bodacious beauty from Porsche, but instead I find
myself wringing the most out of a 911S that pre-dates my birth. I should be
in awe of the GT1 that goes like a bat out of hell and corners with nary a
pico-degree of body roll, but instead I find myself sawing away at the wheel
of a 356 Carrera and grinning like an idiot as I get two wheels in the air.
Is it merely a coincidence that I find myself always gravitating back to the
seductive charms of the 550 Spyder? Let's see... flyweight construction,
minimal safety (poor Mr. Flat-Face in the***pit looks so vulnerable in
those low buckets without belts), tall, skinny tires, outrageous engine
noises, ass-happy handling and eternal drifts. Add in the challenge (yes,
the true challenge) of driving this little monster from the***pit view
(another throwback to my GPL *** for disembodied arms flailing madly at
the steering wheel), over blind crests with "whoops, almost forgot that one"
corners on the other side of the crest, and ***, immoveable objects lining
the track. The parallels are there, with the sublime feeling of drifting
over a crest, car pointed one way, steering wheel pointing another (and the
road usually going a third, decidedly independent direction) and the engine
alternately wailing and burbling under an oh-so-sensitive throttle foot.
Threading the needle in some of the back alleys of the Industrial Zone, or
nailing a series of decreasing radius S-turns in the Pyrenees, or finally
mastering the switchbacks of the Alps or Corsica course - these require all
the precision and car placement skills of Eau Rouge in GPL (blasphemy!).
Sure it's no 288Hz physics Wunderkind, but EA's (or shall I say, EA
*Canada's*) baby is still a beauty. Nothing new here, I know. Just felt
like articulating my pleasure.
Stephen