Copyright © 1998

Porsche Club of America Out For A Spin December, 1998 Bruce Corwin Bruce968@PorscheNet.com

Here we are in the cold, gray days of December. The nights are growing longer.  Many Porsches have already been tucked away for a “long winter’s nap”, their owners going without a Porsche fix for months to come. Others will keep driving through the frigid elements. The dry metallic sound of the engine cranking in the morning, scraping frost from the windows, kicking frozen brown slush from behind the wheels, paint encrusted with a powdery shell of salt.
 
Maybe it is time to put on your slippers and sit by the fire with a glass of brandy. While the icy air blasts against the windowpanes, trying to break though and clench its frosty claws upon your bones, gaze into the enchanting fire, feel the warmth as the chill melts away and dream of days of yore.
 
Imagine driving a silver 550 Spyder through the Austrian Alps, with Dr. Porsche in the passenger seat. Looking across a mountain meadow you see Julie Andrews! She’s singing, “The hills are alive with the sound of Porsches…” No, that’s too far-fetched. Okay, you’re at NHIS on a warm summer day and Julie Andrews is in pit lane and she’s singing. Yes, that’s much more believable. She sings about some of your favorite things.
 
Raindrops on Porsches that dry in the sunshine, Carreras and Boxsters head for the tech line, 930 Turbos with whale tales or wings, these are a few of my favorite things.
 
Into turn three we are heel and toe shifting, roar up the hill now the tail end is drifting, dive down to the bowl where we compress the springs, these are a few of my favorite things.
 
Up past the tree house the steering has lightened, I’m turning while braking - my instructor looks frightened, glad for the helmet he remembered to bring, these are a few of my favorite things.
 
Gaining momentum we slide through the esses, onto the straight we begin to make passes, as we near red line the engine now sings, these are a few of my favorite things.
 
Aromas of tires, brakes even some clutches, the slamming of hoods, doors, deck lids and hatches, time to load up with all of our things, these are a few of my favorite things.
 
When the car spins, when I’m black-flagged, when the chief instructor’s mad. I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don't feel so bad!
 
Throw a log on the fire. Pour yourself another brandy. Springtime will be here before you know it!