words and photos by felix page
Awakening one autumn morning in Luxembourg, my ferry would sail from France in the afternoon whilst my own bed awaited that evening in Cardiff, Wales. This was a challenge the 924 would take in its stride.
words by pablo deferrari
right…suppose you had a small Porsche collection, and you had about, oh say, sixty grand lying about that you’ve decided to halfheartedly earmark for another vintage Porsche—but then a flashback occurred.
while sitting at the dentist’s office leafing through a dog-eared car magazine, an image captured your fancy…it was a Ferrari. it didn’t matter that it was an F12 Berlinetta, their latest offering. what rekindled your long lost passion with Maranello’s pride was the chrome prancing horse placed smack-dab in the center of its grille.
you vividly remember that as a kid, you were instinctively drawn between the two Marques that to this day are loved one and the same by any red-blooded car enthusiast. in your head, you might have had a favorite which is why Porsches grace the grounds of your estate. deep down, however, you always had a soft spot for the Italian exotic that drove men into the depths of lunacy.
this becomes a problem.
Jack Ledingham and his mates vagabond through Scotland