Well friends, it all started one summer afternoon. I was just mixing up in the crib when suddenly someone offered me a ride. Well, I wasn't going to say no, so I got off of the turntables, and joined the fellow in his car.
This guy accepted nothing but the best - naturally his car of choice was a Porsche. No big deal. What threw me off guard was the fact that he handed me the keys!
I opened the door, got in, put the key in the ignition - always on the left side - and the engine came to life. I released the emergency brake, put the car in gear, popped the clutch, and we were off! Sunroof open so I can feel the wind blow - I don't give a @#$% if it cracks the back window.
We cruised the Upper West Side in the ride for a bit before I hit the highway. Now most people do not condone speeding, and others simply enjoy New York's new 65 miles per hour speed limit. As the speedometer crossed into the realm of triple digits, and the scenery around the car began to blur, I became an advocate for the few who feel speed limits are unnecessary.
I glanced over to the man in the passenger seat, I mean it was his car after all. He didn't appear to be disturbed in any way, so I figured what I was doing was ok.
We stopped after a couple of runs up and down the West Side Highway to get gas. Chillsnillszen at the local Shell Station, I got some donuts and a slurpee. While I stood there sipping in front of the car, people came up to me like I was a movie star. They were steadily harassing me, in my face asking me this and that, some even had the audacity to say that I was too young to drive. Man, I just ignored their jive... You see, I had my license, the insurance, and the keys to the car - and all of the paper work was up to par.
Finishing off the drink I slid back in the ride, deep bucket seats hugging my sides. On the stereo Cool James was talking about the boomin' systems. Know what I mean? I started the car up again and headed back home, cruising up Broadway because I was in the zone.
I pulled up to the corner at the end of my block and parked the car. Unfortunately, my first time driving a 911 stopped there, but let me tell you, it was a definitely a day to remember. And that is why I say sometimes old farts are young at heart and lead at foot...
Things have come a long way since that day back in 1992. Now I'm in the limelight cause I rhyme right... I'm racing 911 GT2's at Lime Rock Park! But I still have the same number, same hood; it's all good...
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