Chilly, but sunny. Nice. Kids were at a friend's house. Wife was about to take a nap. "Why don't you go for a drive," she suggested. One of the many reasons why I married her!
Go for a drive indeed. I went out and pulled the cover off the 911, fired it up, and unhooked the trickle charger while listening to the unmistakeable sound of that air-cooled flat six coming up to temperature. Cars are meant to be driven. I believe leaving them idle for too long is just not a good thing. Mechanical things need to be used for their intended purpose!
No need for a jacket, the heat would be pumping soon enough.
I only had about an hour, so I decided on a short jaunt up Red Bud Trail:
Traffic was light, the roads clear. I ensured the engine had ample opportunity to consume lots of cold, refreshing air. I swear it feels faster in the cold, even though it's not a Turbo. Yes, yes, just my imagination.
Induction roar, the sound of a naturally aspirated engine being wound out - who needs a stereo?
There is just something about how alive the car feels. The steering is so good, transmitting surface textures up the rack and into my fingertips. As I wind along the river, I recall a drive out to see my Mom in Iowa a while back. Again, it was a cold winter day. It had snowed, but the roads were good. I decided to drive the 911.
In the days before constant smartphone weather alerts, it started to snow as I approached the Mississippi River. Really started to snow. And I'm driving along, in the dead of night, on summer tires, in my 911. I was a little nervous, but strangely enough, filled with a sense of exhilaration. The steering, the steering! I could feel the front tires hunting for grip. Gingerly, gingerly with the throttle - a breath too much and the tail would slide to the right.
I thought about stopping, but figured that pulling off the highway would only result in unplowed streets and getting stranded.
Crawling along at 15-20 mph, getting passed by tractor-trailers, I crossed the mighty Mississippi and was getting pretty tired. I was pretty tightly wound, exhausted from the incredibly high degree of focus required to just stay on the road. I decided to pull off at a rest stop and get some sleep.
Putting slowly into the rest area, I parked so I wouldn't be reversing uphill. I walked into the rest stop, looked at the weather, and talked to some truckers. Folks were saying that the roads were looking good to the north, and that the freak snow dumping was centered around the Mississippi. Figuring I'd give the crews time to clean out the stretch to Iowa City, I lay down for a restless nap.
After maybe 30 minutes, I got up, went back to the car, and continued the journey home. Gingerly, gingerly with the throttle. Feel those tires hunting for grip. Carefully, carefully, carefully.
Sure enough, the snow abated. Heading northwest, the roads opened up. I made the rest of the journey home in the dark on mostly clean roads.
The next day, I got to appreciate aerodynamics in a new way, looking at how filthy the car was:
I had a great visit, then turned around and headed for home the next day:
Note the snow crusted around the foglights and the wheel wells. Not to worry, upon returning home I immediately scoured the car free from its accumulated road grime.
Driving a 911 on summer tires in the snow is a very, very, very bad idea. Don't ever do it. But if you ever happen to be caught out, it can be like writing a dissertation on car control. Gently caress all the inputs. Feel what is happening. The exquisite delicacy of reduced traction can make for such a wonderful learning opportunity. Very, very different than learning on a race track.
Of course, with winter tires, 911s are virtually unstoppable - here's a shot of my brother's old 997 S during a Chicago winter. Yes, he had snow tires:
Anyway, my New Year's Eve drive was blissfully free from inclement weather. Just cold, clear roads, the deliciously mechanical symphony of that flat six, and corners uncoiling in front of me. What a way to end a year!
