What dreams may come

Like most on December 31st I find myself reflecting on the previous year. This time last year the pearl essence was only just getting under way. A light breeze began to fill the sails, sun on my face, cold air biting my hands as I typed, not knowing where this voyage would take me. Very similar today as remember this year.

While only a few of the desired goals where met on the Black Pearl, the year was filled with incredible adventure, a little mystery and intrigue. Even a treasure or two.

When we cast off I didn't know that I had very much to say, didn't know that I would even be able to convey the emotions in writing. I didn't think anyone other then I would read the words, share the feelings or even be moved enough to share them with others.

The last year has been insightful, I've learned a lot about myself, the world around me, the resilience of mankind and our determination. Fail and fail again, it's those that swim to shore, plug the holes,  reset the sails and try again that will always succeed. Evident in watching a child struggle tirelessly to stand, knowing without being given the knowledge that freedom lies just out of reach.

Perseverance in one's passion. The Pearl may have spent more time in dry dock this year then years past, her future has come into jeopardy a few times, however she's stood tall and faced the torrent that's pounded at her sides.

The adversity of the Pearls last 60 years has only tightened the ropes and strengthened the resolve. Even as the temperatures plummet to freezing, I still plan for the spring, the shows we'll go to, the roads we'll drive, the people we'll meet as we set forth until the world sharing in the gospel of gasoline.

It's as I look back what the God's of Speed have brought us that I wonder, what dreams may come, what will be next for the Pearl. No matter what next year brings, we'll have sails tall and flag full.

Highway to Hell

I'll admit that I daydream a bit, what person doesn't? I think about our next vacation, last weekend, what's for dinner tonight, what the world will bring when the children are grown, what can I do to the Pearl while I wait to get the right tools. I just think, a little more then I should sometimes.

I was daydreaming when a song came on the radio, it got me reminiscing about a time, that got me thinking about something someone very good had once said. That got me thinking about the time that I was reminiscing about.

Ayrton Senna once said, " And suddenly I realised that I was no longer driving the car consciously. I was driving it by a kind of instinct, only I was in a different dimension." He often compared it to a tunnel vision, as if he just became the car.

I realized that I had atleast once been conscious to this experience. As I listened to that song playing over the radio, I slid back several years to that moment.

I had for years pinned to race across the deserts of Nevada, racing my dirt bikes and truck as if everywhere I went was the Baja 1000.  After to many sleepless nights, empty check books and high interest rate credit card bills, I had gotten my chance.

It had taken a bit for me to get a chance at the wheel. Everyone seemed to know how important it was, the first time is always so special. Exhaust wide open as the desert passed under our seats. Ten miles out into the desert and in respect to the moment, a few rules where overlooked.

With AC/DC being piped through the radio into our helmets I found myself slide into that place. It's a place that really is impossible to describe, you just feel, instead of react.

As we came upon the first silt bed, 20 yards wide and 100 yards long of vehicle devouring talc. At that moment when most pause to pick a direction, I didn't have to, I just felt it. Where most might lift off the long pedal if only enough to prepare. I didn't need to do anything other then bury my foot in the floor.

Some may never have that experience, some get stuck sitting crammed into a truck next to someone that's having that experience. It's something everyone should be blessed with feeling.

Not sure if I want to know what it feels like to be strapped into a speeding vehicle next to someone that's having that experience though.

Lucky

As the Pearl sits and waits, waiting and waiting, for the energy and time to materialize, dust collecting on her flanks. Quietly in the corner of the drivers door, rust continues it's ever relentless quest to devour her body.

I as a self appointed patron of the art of speed and gasoline find myself devouring every bit of information I can find in the far reaches of the world web. The clouds of winter have crept into my bones, energy has gone with the sun. Every bit from the coverage of S.E.M.A., to the comedy of errors that's F-1, Porsches triumph over all comers in the endurance trials.

I've shared in the hurt of Magnus Walker's loss and the new beginnings of his recently debuted 964. Idiots on power wheels and everything in between. I experienced a blown '56 Belair hard top, with amazing craftsmanship and perfect patina, and.....four doors

The hours of glaring at a glowing screen bring hope rekindled in a city in the Netherlands. The fabled men at Porsche have brought a bright future with the past.

Although I've pined for years to have that air cooled sound following me around, to feel the road through the leather steering wheel. I've come to terms that they've slipped out of reach, that the closest I can hope is to have the opportunity to help someone restore theirs one day.

However in what I feel is an absolute stroke of genius, Porsche in their divine wisdom and loyalty to their customers have opened a dealership souly dedicated to the preservation of the classics.

Volkswagen has classic over stock available in Europe, they'll even restore your Westfallia for a price, Audi has some parts still available, Mercedes and Volvo provide almost everything one would need to return the former glory.

Porsche has gone to that place just beyond, where unicorns dance on clouds. They provide service, parts, restoration, they've made a classic stereo with modern navigation. Trained technicians on the intricate art of synchronizing six carburetors. They've filled the world with hope, hope that history won't be lost.

The Pearl carry's a long history of innovation and firsts, styling and America's love of the road. The "Turbo-fire" 265 v8, those wonderful lines, industry changing suspension.

Yet as I labor year after year to piece together the little things that fall through the cracks. Those conical screws that hold down the trim, stainless trim, the dome lamp. I wonder to myself, why not us, "why can't the big three do the same?"

With the retro styilings, name recognition and advertising that reminds us just how great we are. We love the cars, help us keep them on the road.

There's no need to try and sell me a front wheel drive Impala, I won't buy it, and never a hard earned dime of mine will find it's way into your till. But tell me that I can still bring the Pearl into port and the fine young men in the neatly pressed uniform would gladly diagnose my electrical draw, well, then I will see you on Tuesday. Now if G.M. decides to have a change of heart I would gladly provide them with my services.

And that's the brilliance in the move, not that Porsche wants to sell any less cars from year to year, bit that they'll happily provide the services their customers require to carry on their love affair with the automobile.

Lucky bastards,

Thank you to Road & Track, Autoweek and Magnus Walker for the inspiration.