One is the fact that Pablo had never driven a 928. He owns one, but as with any new 928 owner that takes things seriously, it's in bits and pieces to receive a new timing belt and water pump, and lots more...
The second is that Pablo and I never met.
Yes, after two and a half years of running the magazine, we'd never met. We kind'a took it slow. Platonic you could say. We wrote and reviewed articles together, exchanged emails, used facebook messenger to share thoughts and set the direction for flüssig. But we'd never met. Our relationship only existed in 'the cloud', much like our magazine.
But we had a good laugh. We had a couple of beers on our respective sides of the big pond to discuss where we were heading to with the magazine. You know, we'd kind of lost interest almost at that point. It had become all too serious. We were trying to think what our market would like in the next article... Yes, we'd hit an all time low. But from the start we made a vow not to do any consumer reviews.
Consumer reviews are the death to creativity. Like Henry Ford said 'If I'd asked my potential customers what they wanted, they would have said: Faster horses!' We promised ourselves long ago we would only write from the gut. So all it took was to dig deep within ourselves on what we loved and hated about these cars. To trace back to the core of why we love our old girls, while at the same time knowing that we detest those annoyances. It was then we found inspiration again to bother you with our personal stories. Pablo wrote about his rattling 968 convertible that sucked money like a Dyson, while I wrote the owner's report about my crap 928 'Reparaturstau' and its never ending list of flaws it would throw at me. Sure enough, both these articles gathered a fair amount of feedback from the flüssig crowd. We knew we were back on track again!
"Yes, we'd hit an all time low. But from the start we made a vow not to do any consumer reviews."
A business trip to New York announced itself. And flying in early on Saturday saved six hundred bucks of the Sunday flight fare, which was easily enough to countereffect the steep price of an extra stayover at the Marriott on Lexington Avenue, Manhattan. So, an excuse was found and I was honoured to meet the founder of your magazine and his lovely wife Diane. I'll let down my masculine cover here a bit, and will admit that I was a tad bit nervous about the whole thing. No no, not about meeting Diane, I mean, I was rather looking forward to that... But Pablo. Our platonic internet relation would come to an end, after two and a half years, to be exchanged with... well, what exactly?
It was only the far howl of their many dogs with full bladders from the far distance in New Jersey that cut our meeting short. (Or was it the dog's babysitter?). We quickly snapped a few pictures and said goodbye. I had to promise Diane not to share photos with her in the picture (God knows why?). So, here we go anyway (Haha, sorry Diane, you have permission to officially beat me up now). They look much better than those two flüssig blokes anyway, don't you think?
So there you have it. I've told you before, it's not about the cars. It's about the people behind them. Go and meet them. Talk to each other. And don't wait two and a half years like these two morons.
Life passes all to quickly and may whisk by like a 928 in full flight on the Autobahn. And you never know: perhaps you'll be so lucky to meet your 'Diane' too.
Kind regards, Vriendelijke groeten,
Leo Dijkstra aka 'The Dutch Shark'