It all began with the usual chat.
"Porsches are the strongest."
"No, you don’t know what you’re talking about; Ferraris are the strongest.
Porsches might be strong on the track and in rallies, but Ferrari's 0-100km/h times, Ferrari 's max speed..." On and on it goes.
Then comes the idea; a challenge on track.
"alright...let me speak with your manager; this is ridiculous."
I'm a confident motherfucker, but I can see how this was going to problem for me...I was visually outclassed. I shrank a bit.
"Yes, I'm the manager, is there a problem?"
no good morning, no handshake, no offer to come sit in her office to discuss the matter; only a puff of stale coffee breath arrived with her terse question. I could tell by the slight quiver in her voice and hands folded low across her front this broad was uptight. I knew her tragedy, she hadn't been gone down on in a long while; maybe never.
I truly enjoy sharing my adventures in my 931 with other people. I enjoy taking them on drives, going on errands, hitting backroads. It puts a smile on my face; sharing the experiences with others makes it that much more special. It’s been an interesting adventure with this car; I truly love it.
Every now and then you run into someone who enjoys the adventure as much as you; and that’s when the inspiration hits to put it down in words.
words and shots by el jefe
hang with us for a while and see how the sick motherfuckers do it...
I wanted to get this out while it’s still fresh.
certain things in life, I’m finally learning, come in stages. you don’t realize it when you’re in your teens because you’re too stupid and all you care to do is fornicate or masturbate your youth away in between managing your paper route and doing homework.
you can forget about your twenties because you’re doing much the same thing you did in your teens except this time you’re including alcohol and a few gateway drugs into the equation while pissing your money away at University and working as a busboy.
now your thirties…ah, that’s when you realized there were a few more gears under the palm of your hand when previously you thought first was the only one you needed. hopefully, you now understood that college wasn’t about grades, getting your whistle wet, or vomiting on the Dean’s car for laughs…it was about making connections and honing in on what completely engulfed your thoughts; a passion of sorts.
words by pablo deferrari
the Spanish are an intense lot; they have a way of making eye contact without flinching...looking into yours as if trying to examine the character of your soul in nanoseconds as they walk by. food, wine, art, and conversations are all very deep, nothing superificial. I’ve schlepped around Europe enough to make these sorts of gross observations.