Eyes as fresh
as when she was
from the factory's gates.
every single piece of paper is
and looking as if freshly printed.
If you punched 1983 into your
imaginary time travel
machine's keyboard and asked to be
taken to Continental Imports in Joplin,
to see this 928,
your time would've been
*photography by Clint Davis ©
"not on your life!"
"I've no choice, it was a mandatory requirement."
"fuck you, leave them on...I LIKE them!"
we tend, or prefer, to forget that Porsches have split personalities; exquisitely sophisticated women who can go from dancing a tango to pulling eight plugs out of an M28.01 engine. most can only see them as ceremonial playthings preferring to pamper rather than unleash the restless tomboy she occasionally wants to be. but what good is a woman who doesn't like to get down and dirty with her man?
I'm designing a lounge inspired by the most early Porsche cars for myself.
There are so many elements to these cars.. but I'm resisting taking them literally. I'm trying to create a lounge Professor Porsche would approve of. It's to be 1930s simple but Porsche too. It's a real challenge. I need critical opinions.
the stars knew
they knew exactly where to be to
there was enough light in the pitch black
to see the curves flowing around her
hips and shoulders.
everything else was out of focus.
"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.
what the shit! is it a Euro thing? maybe it's an option? 'ang on...looks like someone took it off and never put it back.
if you feel like you've been ripped off, well, you haven't...not necessarily. owners of true (later) 1994 and 1995 968s may wonder why their cars are missing the front engine compartment lining. those with a keener eye for detail will notice that a rear cover in front of the bulk head is also missing from their car. the pensive sort will stare at the voids, tilt their heads and squint while muttering, "those motherfuckers..." not knowing who to blame.
Freud was full of shit. it's a known fact that he and his old lady's sister did lots of blow (coca, yeyo, white lady...choose your slang) together, so this certainly put a dent in lots of his theories...anal retention is one of them.
I do suffer from such a personality, but the reason I hold my mud back is quite simply because I'm trying to put one last thought or sentence down before my bowels threaten me with a rumble that suggests a bigger problem than finishing a line. so this 924 should make me cringe and obsess over making things "right' on it...but it doesn't. I like it the way it is.
last week, I wrote about the birth of the 928 where I briefly mentioned how before Dr. Fuhrmann took the helm at Porsche, Herr Bott and his engineers were busy that summer working on various concepts concerning engine placement for future Porsches. they based their trajectory on forty different criteria before settling on what would become the optimal solution which would become the basis for the 928 in an engineering drawing labeled "Programm K." but there was a program before this one that's seldom mentioned, done before Dr. Fuhrmann even took office on the 12th of May, 1971; "Programm H."
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.