derek mccallister

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.
We unloaded the car, came back and took the sunroof off.  I remember her excitedly saying, “OH that comes off? This is going to be so much fun!” and we put the sunroof in the back.  We hopped in and she had a suggestion to go to this interesting place miles away to go get some “artisan ice cream” - now, I’m rather skeptical when it comes to artisan anything, but as I came to learn, this particular lady loved back roads and artisan stuff as much as I did. 

I still remember when we first met.  I remember pulling up halfway down the street and getting lost.  I had my gps locked up till the actual address, and at this weird crossroad, I called her up going, “So I think I’m pretty much where I need to be, and I think I’m close, but google is telling me to turn left which would take me through your neighbor’s house.”  She got on the phone and turned on the lights and was waving at me and I recall this silhouette of this goofball gal waving like crazy and I drove forward and there she was.  I had to give her some shit because she was waving frantically with the front living room light on waving like a total dork.  Her words kind of crack me up, here’s an excerpt of what I mean--

“There I was, like a high school girl, nervously waiting on the couch in the front room of my house. Heart racing I messaged my friends that he was only minutes away and sent photos of my freshly curled hair.

And then I heard it…That low rumble of fun that was slowly making its way down my street and I knew it was him.  I heard the rumble go down the wrong side road near my house and back toward the main street again before turning around.

He was looking for my weirdly numbered and placed house on this confusing curvy street. I stood up and looked out the big bay window just behind the couch.

My phone rang...

‘You are almost here’ I said, ‘do you see me waving?’

He laughed and called me a creeper. He moved forward allowing me to finally see in the twilight the source of the noise. And there it was, pretty in the setting sunlight…The Avocado”
I never had a name for my 931, but after that, she often called it “The Avocado” since the paint color certainly resembled an avocado depending on your definition of an avocado color.  Dark green—not forest green, not a standard green, just a dark, dirty, grody Porsche green.  I liked the name, so every time she’s called it “The Avocado” since, it has stuck. 

The interesting thing was that we had already shared some adventures up to a place called “Mary’s Peak” which was this absolutely gorgeous place for hiking.  We took her car this time.  She certainly wasn’t afraid to have some fun in twisties.  I remember thinking, “her steering wheel position and habits could use some work, but she’s certainly confident driving a manual and certainly confident having fun in the twisties.”  I knew this was going to be fun later.  I’m certainly not going to lie, a woman that knows how to have fun in a manual of any kind is a giant plus in my book.

She mentioned going on a mini road trip, a day trip, to this place she loved that had “Artisan Ice Cream.”  We took the top off of the 931 and headed out some back roads she was familiar with.  I’m not familiar with places that make their own ice cream, and I’m honestly not huge on ice cream, but she was interesting, fun, and we were just having a blast. A mini road trip, an adventure, the kind of thing you enjoy sharing with others. The entire road was filled with tight corners. 15mph corners, 90 degree bends, 35mph corners, off camber technical corners, the kind of thing you would expect on a backroad that would put a giant smile on your face. We were having a ton of fun in the 931.

"The gorgeous breeze, a bright sunny day, a wonderful person at my side looking out the window soaking in the day and both of us with a grin on our face having just had the best ice cream of the millennium—We.  Were.  In.  Heaven."

The subtle “PSHT” of the blowoff valve built into the 931, not a lot, but just enough to remind you that you were in a turbo. The acceleration out of each corner leading to the next one puts a sincere grin on your face. You aren’t treating the street like a race track, but you’re having fun, and you know the person in the passenger seat is enjoying the hell out of themselves.  After a while we hit the city; our destination. This tiny little hole in the wall and the promise of “artisan ice cream” was obvious. We pulled in and parked.

We rolled up into the parking and as we parked, this little Subaru, some little 80s or early 90s model, came up behind us and yanked their parking brake getting completely sideways behind us into their parking spot. She went, “DID YOU SEE THAT?” and was super excited.  Everyone in their car was laughing their ass off, she was laughing and I only caught a glimpse but enough to know that I was in the company of people who knew how to have fun. We got out of the car and headed in.
We were greeted at this tiny little drive-in feel of a place with a small counter top and some booths. It was a simple place, but had a cozy environment. The owner himself was there and came and took our order; we ordered the best strawberry sundae I’ve ever had in my life.  It took him a good 15 minutes to prepare. But when he came out, there was this longboard of a dish filled with strawberry and vanilla ice cream, home made from the heart, with strawberry syrup, fresh strawberries and powdered sugar for days with bits of chocolate drizzled about.  I was in absolute heaven. We sat there and took in our company and just enjoyed ourselves. A few patrons came up asking what the deal was with our plates and we told them the deal with the ice cream. The entire diner was instantly jealous.

I’ve had ice cream before, but I have never in my life had hand-made ice cream made from scratch, made by the owner of an artisan diner with that kind of presentation—fresh strawberry and chocolate and ice cream to match.  It was easily one of the best ice cream dishes I have ever been served.  We soaked it in for as long as we could.
We took the same road back; twisty, windy, gorgeous corners.  Every time you start to slow down, you heel-toe that gear down and enter it smoothly and exit with a giant grin on your face.  Few cars in my life have responded so well to heel-toe as my 931 and I’ve become so accustom to heel-toe in that car that it’s become second nature and every time I hit twisties I just feels at home.  It was truly a beautiful drive over, beautiful drive back and that day was a day that was filled with nothing but fun.

The gorgeous breeze, a bright sunny day, a wonderful person at my side looking out the window soaking in the day and both of us with a grin on our face having just had the best ice cream of the millennium…We.  Were.  In.  Heaven.

It wasn’t necessarily the fact of being in a Porsche, nor the ice cream…it wasn’t even about the twisties. I had the chance to share it with someone who got it, who enjoyed it as much as I did, and that’s what was all about. The adventure. The trip, the connection.

People who click are so far and so few between. Whether you end up being with them a short time or for a lifetime, the fact is that for that moment, you are there—you’re both there. 

It may sound sentimental or sappy, but I’m a giant connoisseur of the cosmos; one of my biggest hobbies is astronomy.  A large part of me feels that we are all part of this huge cosmos, part of the same thing; the same atoms and energy.  You are atoms and energy, experiencing atoms and energy.  To find someone who can enjoy the same thing, who gets that, who is enjoying being part of that entire experience, someone who lives for that moment, regardless of the amount of time you have, is a kindred spirit.  It's like part of the universe is enjoying itself with another chunk of it.  We were completely sharing that moment.
She looked out the window and took pictures of the mountains, the corners, the drive and soaked in the sun with a giant grin on her face.  She was as happy as could be.  I didn’t even care about the corner coming up, the grin on her face totally lit up my day.  I knew I was finally experiencing the experience of something that only a like minded individual could enjoy.

I’ve met a lot of gals, dated my fair share of shit storms, and even had my fair share of weird and bad experiences.  I honestly was quite fine with being single, but we clicked.  Have you ever had that feeling where you’re sick and tired of dealing with shit storms, drama queens and decide that all you want to do is adventure by yourself?  That’s where I was at.  One day my sis calls me and goes, “You need to meet this girl.  She likes cars, cigars, astronomy, science and speaks geek.” I was skeptical and as you can imagine, it took me months on end to even give the thought a chance. I was too busy flying and working on my Lambo. Fuck dating. Forget worrying about that kind of thing. But one day we decided to talk to each other and chat a bit and something just clicked. I headed to meet her one weekend after realizing that I’d be stupid to disregard a great connection and the rest has been history.
I’m of the opinion that an amazing experience can last weeks, months, years or a lifetime.  I keep an open mind.  I don’t consider myself of any particular faith or flow, but one thing I do subscribe to is to allow yourself to go with the flow. Life is short, and I feel like I’d be an idiot to allow myself to come across an experience that stimulates my passion in cars, my passion in cigars, my hobbies and my love for everything that moves with the trio of “Cigars, cars, and conversation.”  Like I said, people that get it are far and few between—whether a bullet through the gun like the “Birth Machine” artwork of H.R. Giger, or a lifelong journey, one cannot discount an experience.

While I do not feel that cars are a “necessity” to a relationship, it’s refreshing at the very least to meet someone who understands that your passions in life are an important part of who you are, your identity; and a part of who you are also includes your accomplishments in life. 

Later in the following weeks, we took the 931 off-roading to my favorite shooting spot.  The goal:  To eliminate as many shittily burned CDs that no longer functioned as possible.  How, you may ask?  Via a Mossberg Tactical 500 and a Keltec PF9.  We ended up driving the 931 off road on some pretty gnarly and questionable areas, ending up at our destination.  We spent an awful lot of rounds eliminating imaginary zombies, some pretty shittily burned CDs, and an awful lot of pre-made targets.  
We took the car to Smith Rock State Park, went on an amazing hike (backroad twisties obligatory) and enjoyed every part of the adventure.

What did I learn? Well, she’s a pretty damn good shot and certainly knows her firearms.  Certainly a welcoming quality when a woman knows how to drive a stick shift and handle her firearms. More so, we tore through a good box of ammo and targets. It gave me a good reason to modify my little carry pistol and look forward to more shooting sessions. I also learned that the 931 is quite perfectly capable off road, so long as you keep yourself in check and are realistic about your height and travel. All in all, I was pretty proud that we managed to navigate some pretty gnarly rocks, some terrible terrain and make it out there in a Porsche. 

You know it’s funny; I see these little hashtag posts on Facebook and Twitter now and then of people in their little first generation Boxsters and 996 cars grocery shopping with “#PorscheEveryDay” and I kind of laugh.  I enjoy tagging myself in those as a rite of passage when I can show my little 80s 931 off the road, navigating some not so desirable terrain to get where I need to go, on backroads and weird and odd situations, in a car that most people would call “Undesirable” Or “Unreliable” for such circumstances. But you know what? It isn’t about practicality these days, it’s about adventure.

As I grow older, I care less about practicality and care more about the things I enjoy.  Practicality? Sure, some. Reliability? Of course, if you keep on top of it. Consistency? Sure, if you want a Honda; this is Porsche territory though.  How often do you see a Turbo Porsche of any kind hitting the backroads for a rare form of ice cream, carving up the corners, having fun, and ending up off-road to go out for target practice with random fire arms. I feel like anyone could go out there with your average 4x4, your standard truck, your standard whatever.  But at the end of the day the experience is about what you take from it—what you get from it.
The grin on your face(s), the experience you have by yourself shared with others. The satisfaction that an extension of yourself (your own car) gets to be shared with someone else that gets it. It’s priceless. It’s rare. Whether it’s for a matter of seconds, minutes, hours, months or years, is something to be cherished—enjoyed.  It’s something rare.  A kindred spirit.  Call it infatuation, call it head over heels, call it sickening, call it gross and worthy of a puke fest, call it ridiculous. I don’t even care these days. The moments that I am alive, the moments I get to share—those moments are priceless.

You are part of this universe.  Atoms made of energy, the only part of the universe that you are aware of that is capable of experiencing what it is like to be atoms and energy.  If you ever find a moment to share your own experiences with another form of atoms and energy, in a Porsche or otherwise, savor it while you can. Life is short.

Life is a path.  Death is a destination.  Enjoy the journey to the destination.  Forget about the destination.  We all know where we are headed; enjoy the journey for as long as you can.  You can’t take it to the grave, you can polish it as much as you want, you can make it as meticulous as can be.  In the end, the important thing that matters is whether or not you enjoyed your journey to the destination.

Seconds, a minute, hours, months or years—enjoy every moment of your journey, my friends.  Namaste, peace, celebration, cheers, what have you, however you want to say it.  

Live it.  

Love it.  

Be it.
 


Comments

Joe Howell
08/26/2015 08:06

Life is to be enjoyed. A good car (Porsche), a fine gun shootin' gear jammin' woman and an appreciation for the universe around us is a good start :)

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Joe Sharp
08/26/2015 19:58

Great article Derek (C9B), cherish that woman. I once had a woman like that. She was incredibly beautiful and could crack me up with the funniest sense of humor I ever found in anyone I ever dated. Unfortunately we broke up after the best 3 years of my life. I still think about her, almost every day. I had a red 914 when met her. We had lots of good times with that car.

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