“The soundtrack of that inline-six at full throttle is something I'll carry with me forever.”
Sold privately to fund the 911. The buyer was a BMW enthusiast who knew exactly what he was getting. I still hear that S58 in my sleep sometimes. No regrets — but no forgetting either.
The grown-up car. Or so I told myself. Alpine White, carbon fiber trim, and a soundtrack that made every commute feel like a race track. Still miss the sound of that inline-six.
Told myself this was the responsible choice. It was not. 503 horsepower is never responsible.
First time on a real circuit. The M3 was born for this. I was not. But we figured it out together.
Drove through Vermont during peak foliage. The white against the reds and oranges was something else.
Sold it to fund the 911. Still hear that inline-six in my dreams sometimes.
How much this car is still felt, even after it’s gone.
Other cars from the same era or owner
Adventure phase. Took the doors off every summer. Drove through three national parks, one very muddy trail in Colorado, and countless beach sunsets. This Jeep has more stories than I can count.
Hired for my 30th birthday. Three days in the Italian Dolomites — Rosso Corsa, roof down, mountain passes that seemed designed specifically for this car. My friends thought I'd lost my mind. They weren't wrong. Some experiences you don't need to own to carry forever.
My first motorcycle. Everyone told me not to. I bought it anyway. Matte black, Arrow exhaust, and a sound that turned heads at every traffic light. Four years of weekend rides, track days, and one very memorable trip through the Pacific Coast Highway.