I strolled into the kitchen for a second cup of coffee and felt a bit of rumble in my tripe. as I reached into the cookie jar to fetch the dogs their last biscuit for the morning, I pushed out what I thought would be an innocent peep of wind from between my buttocks. I love to fart; I do it so often in fact that people in the office will suspect something is wrong if I don't greet them with a toot from the backside.
but yesterday morning, something felt very different. it didn't feel like air being thrust out, but it didn't feel solid with a slight lump either...it was sort of in between and it frightened not only me but also our three pitbulls who all took one step back in unison as they heard this hiss as if I were birthing a snake from my anus. what I thought could never ever happen did...I soiled myself.
the feeling of denial and disbelief that washed over me at that moment as I scrambled for the loo is EXACTLY the same sentiment I felt today when I saw this 968.
for those who don't know Adam, he and Jeff Coe are the creators behind the 968 Register. Adam and I chat regularly about our favorite subject, so I knew he'd feel the same sickness gurgling deep within the viscera when he saw these horrible images.
I shouldn't have been surprised. I've lived through the days when vintage Columbo and Lampredi engined Ferraris clothed in Pinin Farina, Zagato, or Scaglietti couture, were left in fields and sheds around the globe to slowly rot away. it's a natural evolution of exotic machinery too fussy to bother with before someone, somewhere, decides that their remains should be scraped off the soil and carefully put back together, much like an archaeologist would do with the bones of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, in order for the world to appreciate their magnificence. the difference is that the resurrected creature rendered in alloys, wood, and leather would be stored in secrecy, seen by few, and command a price beyond what even the rich would consider obscene.
the 968, however, is different. it didn't, unless it happened while I slept, go through a period of disinterest followed by severe neglect and finally abandonment. they're too young, never having to suffer a fate being unfashionable, primitive, and too eccentric for modern times; they never even got a chance to depreciate to a mere three digits.
this is precisely why I think this particular specimen is singular in its fate, an anomaly, if you like. and while the images speak for themselves, the ad raises more questions than it answers:
I have a 1994 Porsche It need a 14v battery and a throw out bearing to run and drive it has a crack in window it has less then 60,000 miles. 3500 or trade tell me what u have no title call or text.
it's pointless to ask how this could've happened. it's ridiculous to even think this car marks the beginning of the last stages of an evolutionary path the 968 must follow before it's trajectory to the hyper-valuable stratosphere begins. and it's a fit of lunacy to believe that it was only a matter of time.