Annual Report

There was a moment, when I almost decided not to go through with it.

I left work early to get to the bank on time to get the certified check for her. And on cue, I reached the bank to find out that the teller I was working with that week was having a difficult personal moment. Her colleague didn’t have the history of my case and nor did she really care working with pace. I extrapolated the time it would take and figured that the evening rental car pick was not going to be feasible. I called the dealer and let her know that it wasn’t going to happen but she wanted me to persist. And just when the financial mistake could have been avoided, the bank sped up and the check was in my hand with enough time to go get the rental car to go the dealer next morning out of state.

The reality however was that it couldn’t have been avoided. I had been enamored by her ever since I drove one of early prototypes in Germany. If it weren’t for the exorbitant costs and other distractions in Europe, I would have never lasted the four years I did without getting her. The move the US was met with many challenges and further delayed the inevitable. But desire and destiny were difficult to differentiate when it come to her. I couldn’t think past her. The you-tube videos played in a loop. No matter how rationally it made (it still doesn’t) no sense whatsoever. What had begun in Stuttgart, had to find a new beginning in the United States. And in the last one year, our story has had enough to populate a few chapters of wonderful sojourn.

I have spent countless words already highlighting her glory. I tried hard to not sound like a Porsche fanboy but it felt impossible not to do so. It’s like I had stumbled on the truth and wanted everyone know the way to the Holy Grail. Like the word of God, which the faithful fanatics wanted to spread to a crowd that didn’t want to know much about it.

Now for turn 2

Our first conversations on Grattan were impeccable. She made me feel like a giant. She made me feel like a rocket which shot out turns. She made me hear an orchestra that was song on the straightaways. Her tires spun eagerly, her chassis stabilized my sketchiness. It was a confirmation of what I already knew. From thereon, even on the shorter drives around Pontiac trail, Hankerd Road and Plymouth road, it felt like a continuation of a conversation that did not need any prompting.

We reached new heights of oneness, on delightful roads through the mountains of West Virginia. We were together for 900 miles, 200 of which weren’t straight. They dipped, some had camber and some had loose gravel. But through all it, she was unperturbed. She dint want to stop, except for gas. I didn’t want to stop, except to catch my breath. She was stoic, stupid fast, straight and smooth at the same time. She was all things to all men, even if they would never know it.
As our year came along, my other baby had her share of bumps. We struggled to find peace. There were days when the 911 stayed quiet while my baby and I worked our way out of holes and landmines. It was at those desperate times, my youthful naivety was normalized. Desire can be parked in the garage; destiny cannot be second to none.

Go ahead, stare.

However, when my destiny is the car with me, there is wonderful balance. And she knows it. She is grown up version of college romance. She is maniacal at times but only when we both agree that our life needs it. Most other times, she is reserved. Dressed in black for a party or work or a track, poised and now a year older and much prettier.

We drove each other for 3875 miles. We spent 86 hours and 23 minutes together. We counted it because we knew it would all add up.