Human-Generated Automotive Gibberish
The best sports cars can be driven flat out without going into orbit. The 996 GT3 is arguably one of them.
You’re almost there. You already know, from the last few miles, that cranking on the lock at this point in the corner is going to scrub the front tires for no reason. The next two seconds feel like two hours, at least compared to the same experience in cars that don’t put the cart before the horses. Sensing that the front is still a little too light, you relax your big toe, letting the accelerator pedal come up a smidge and feeling the nose come down just enough as you turn toward the apex.
One by one, cats eyes whiz past my left shoulder at such speed they’re nearly an unbroken yellow line. The universe shrinks down. All that exists is the heat, the wind, the noise, and my buddy just ahead of me in his first-gen NSX, a silver rocket amidst the rolling, golden expanse of Central California.
Transfixed, I admire the back of said Acura flowing over the slightly bumpy backroad, almost a mirage. Suddenly I touch the rev-limiter in a gear normally reserved for dyno runs. The noise abates and returns with purpose as I quickly find the next gear. My idiotic grin becomes a cackle as I briefly consider how many of these cars, both his NSX and the Integra Type R I’m piloting, are today normally relegated to garage spaces. Both seen and treated as retired athletes more suited to bask in former glories than ready-to-buck sport cars.
You really ought to drive your damn sport cars.
Stop light interlude.
Wiggle the steering wheel. Blip the throttle. Check the distance between it and the brake. Slot the lever from first gear to second to first. Observe the shift distance.
Light changes. Green means go.
Note the clutch take-up. Roll halfway into the throttle, then mat it. Slight giggle as the rear tires pay lip-service to the concept of traction. Slight giggle from the passenger as her seat tilts back with the force of acceleration, forward with the brakes.
Stop light interlude.
So…what are you looking for when you drive a car?
The aural pleasure of a pinned throttle ebbs as you look through the next turn. Just past the hero point you prod the brakes, bringing weight onto the nose and shifting grip for that rotation drivers live for. Deftly, your foot rolls to blip the throttle while the other simultaneously disengages the driveline from the motor. One hand leaves the wheel, pulling the gear lever from third to second as tho…
*CRUNCH*
Dammit.
You rushed it into gear. What, you don’t like your synchros? Cause they sure don’t like you right now. It’s ok. Slow it down, take a breath, and we’ll try again in the next corner…
