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Even being driven in mild annoyance, that looks like an absolute blast. A+.
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May 4, 2021 01:42
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Yeah, that rules that you're tracking it. Once at a track day there was a cool guy with a Vantage (not quite same class, but still cool to see at a track day) rolling around similarly which was awesome. It makes us small pee pee havers in miatas and such feel awesome for "keeping up with a lambo/aston!"
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May 4, 2021 04:05
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Suburban Dad posted:Yeah, that rules that you're tracking it. All the track rat Miatas were in the advanced group sadly! There was an NA with a built K-series, and I'd have loved to follow that guy around
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May 4, 2021 06:49
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Elmnt80 posted:Even being driven in mild annoyance, that looks like an absolute blast. A+. Mild annoyance is the best way to drive that car, imo. Chasing arbitrary numbers gets increasingly perilous as you reach the limits. That thang is too nice to ball up. Proceed, OP, you're doing god's work.
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May 4, 2021 14:19
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EVERYWHERE 
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Just saw this thread, beautiful color! Now that I’ve seen it I could t imagine getting any other for this car. Fantastic
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May 5, 2021 01:47
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Pictures from the track day!  
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May 15, 2021 16:39
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got off on a technicality posted:Pictures from the track day! The color is so great in these - that first shot looks fake
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May 15, 2021 16:43
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I got sticker shock when the time came to renew my insurance for a full year. My premium, including the Audi, turned out to be drat near $8,000  Didn't help that my spouse, the grandmother-est of all drivers, got a ticket late last year So I took a closer look and they had me down for a $500 collision and $500 comprehensive deductible on both cars  This is what happens when you get so excited about your new Lamborghini you don't look closely at your insurance arrangements Between getting a new carrier and raising the deductible to $2,000 the premiums went down by a third 
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Jun 10, 2021 01:45
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got off on a technicality posted:Didn't help that my spouse, the grandmother-est of all drivers, got a ticket late last year PM me if you need a kickass traffic lawyer. From your pictures, I know for certain she works in your (our) jurisdiction. My friends and I have far better driving records than we deserve.
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Jun 10, 2021 03:02
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RIP Paul Walker posted:PM me if you need a kickass traffic lawyer. From your pictures, I know for certain she works in your (our) jurisdiction. My friends and I have far better driving records than we deserve. Today I had her smogged  Yes, this is as much engine access that you get without dropping it or at least going underneath 
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Jun 11, 2021 19:09
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This week in exotic car ownership I discover: i) the insides of my rear tires are ~3/32 after 5,400 miles and 1 track day ii) you can't find a 305/35/19 Michelin tire of any model (Cup 2, PS4S, Super Sport) in America. The fronts (245/35/19) yes but the rears no, not for love or money. 3-5 month backorder iii) I did find 305/35/19s from Nitto but the fronts are on backorder  iv) the dealer will sell me a set Pirelli OEM rears, which will run ~$1,200 installed v) the local tire place will sell me a full set of Pirellis taken off a new Huracan for $660 installed UGH fine the Michelins will have to wait 
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Jul 27, 2021 22:15
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got off on a technicality posted:
That's one hell of a price for take-offs. Especially with a market that tight!
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Jul 27, 2021 22:58
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lol that's cheaper than new michelin crossclimates for my subaru, $800 before installation
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Jul 27, 2021 23:19
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got off on a technicality posted:ii) you can't find a 305/35/19 Michelin tire of any model (Cup 2, PS4S, Super Sport) in America. The fronts (245/35/19) yes but the rears no, not for love or money. 3-5 month backorder I call it the tire mullet. Business in front, party in the rear.
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Jul 27, 2021 23:54
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got off on a technicality posted:i) the insides of my rear tires are ~3/32 after 5,400 miles and 1 track day So you're going to do a burnout to rid yourself of that pesky remaining tread? I've seen a lot of complaining about lack of tire availability in the various FB groups and that's for more pedestrian sizes than you're running. kidding of course...or not, you do you
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Jul 28, 2021 10:02
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Today I showed up at the tire place and learned the guy has 20" and not 19" takeoffs  He told me he thought I could baby this set along for a few more months, because they're more like 3.5/32... welp...
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Jul 29, 2021 06:49
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It's not like people drive Lamborghini's in the rain, you'll be fine. That extra 1/64 makes all the difference.
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Jul 29, 2021 11:36
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got off on a technicality posted:This week in exotic car ownership I discover: Tire rack is saying 9/17 now for Cup 2s if you want to get in on that.
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Jul 31, 2021 17:10
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Wrar posted:Tire rack is saying 9/17 now for Cup 2s if you want to get in on that. Ooo thanks for this Actually, now that I look, I see Tire Rack has the PS4S available now in 245/35/19 and 295/35/19. But that's 1.1% off the tire diameter vs. the stock size (305/35/19). I'm tempted to give it a shot since this is the RWD not AWD model, so I should be golden as long as the ECU doesn't freak out. Is this something I'm going to regret?
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Aug 5, 2021 20:45
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1% overall diameter difference should not be enough to trip any vehicle system. If it were AWD then maybe the TCS might get grumpy due to the mismatch but even then, 1% should be within the systems tolerance.
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Aug 5, 2021 21:03
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Are the OEM Pirellis some special Lambo edition? Cause that is double the cost of mine which were P Zeros in 265/35/21 and 305/30/21. Though not in the US.
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Aug 5, 2021 23:07
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knox_harrington posted:Are the OEM Pirellis some special Lambo edition? Cause that is double the cost of mine which were P Zeros in 265/35/21 and 305/30/21. Though not in the US.
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Aug 28, 2021 02:12
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The end of the road The Huracan is no more. It has ceased to be, joined the choir invisible. Ok not really; I've just sold it. I decided to stop by the dealer on the way to the dog groomer. They were desperate for cars to sell, and named a price that made my eyes bug right out of my head. The car sold within a week, which just goes to show how crazy the market has gotten since I bought it late last year. Apparently the combination of the ad personam color and Q-Citura stitching (hexagon-stitched leather everywhere!) is pretty rare out here on the West Coast. All the new buyers order black, white, sometimes dark metallic blue, and the secondary market wants exactly the opposite. What did I replace the Lamborghini with? Those of you who've been in the Porsche thread may have seen me post about my new (to me) 993, a wonderfully unmolested convertible with ~50K miles in Polar Silver, and my joyful return to the Porsche fold after 7+ long years away. It's in many ways the polar (ha) opposite of the Huracan, and I suspect it might be the last internal combustion sports car that I buy. Like many of you, I suspect, there were many cars I fantasized about when growing up, from many different producers. I still vividly remember when I first encountered the then new Dodge Viper on the cover of a magazine. And the Mitsubishi 3000GT looked like the future incarnate. And my local BMW dealer had an 850i on the lot which I couldn't keep my hands off while my parents spoke with a salesman about the options packages and colors for a 525i. But the big three for me were always Ferrari, Lamborghini, and Porsche, and I knew nothing about them other than their looks and the breathless intimations of their capabilities from the buff books. Lamborghinis were unapologetically wild and angular and carried more than a whiff of disrepute about them in the culture I grew up in, and that did nothing to stop me from loving the beautiful silhouette and lines of the Countach and Diablo. Their performance numbers were entirely besides the point, other than that they were stratospheric. But they were so alien from my lived existence that they might as well have been spaceships, something to be venerated from afar. I certainly couldn't even begin to imagine myself driving one, and selecting the sinister black Diablo VT in the first Need for Speed game was the closest I came. The Porsche 911, on the other hand, was completely the opposite: round and curiously organic in appearance, the styling and comparatively approachable pricing somehow able to reconcile the stench of stern engineering-led Teutonic superiority that clung to it with the real world that these cars were driven in. They were perhaps the most respectable sporty car to be seen in, I saw more than a few around when I was growing up, and crucially, they were entirely conceivable as a thing to own. I had a little toy 911 in silver with an interior rendered in red plastic, instantly recognizable even in silhouette, and couldn't wait to grow up and get myself one. Then there was Ferrari, the happy medium between the two. Neither outre like Lamborghini nor staid like the Porsche, instead straddling the border between fantasyland and aspiration. I was never a Ferrari-worshipper growing up, not even during the days of Schumacher's dominance of F1, though I was here and there tempted by the gorgeousness of the F355. But worshipper or not, there was a slot in my brain for the best car, and Ferrari was for the longest time the occupant of that slot. And so even if Porsche was what I had committed my childhood self to buying, Ferrari was what I might stretch myself towards with more than a little bit of luck. So it happened that I got myself my big boy job and went joyfully off to buy a used Porsche Cayman S. I considered stretching to the F355 Berlinetta 6-speed of my dreams, except that I lived in a studio apartment with a sketchy parking garage and a $15,000 engine out service would have utterly ruined me. Lamborghini of course was entirely out of the question; it was something I knew in my bones without even having to think about it. As I was to learn, that Cayman was a truer friend to me than many people I've known. Over many years of joyful ownership and ~60,000 miles it rewarded me with telepathic handling at the race track, letting me hang its rear end out at terrifying slip angles, and a comfortable 70-mile commute. All this in exchange for a steady diet of Liqui Moly 10w-40, Pagid Orange pads, and Hankook V12 tires. As with all good friends, it was far too easy to take the Cayman for granted, and it's only in hindsight that I'm able to see for myself how remarkable the car was. This, I see now, is what Porsche is - weirdly, stealthily capable in its own quiet way, so quiet that you're constantly susceptible to having your head turned by other cars that promise more in flashier, louder ways. Cars that make you think: now, this time around, I will have my grass-is-greener itch definitively scratched. *** So it happened that a good friend of mine got himself engaged and held a bachelor party in Vegas. We rented ourselves a McMansion and arranged a variety of experiences, one of which was at this place that lets you drive all sorts of exotics around a short circuit. It was my first opportunity to meet my idols up close, and after much handwringing I shortlisted four cars that represented, to me, the pick of the litter: the Ferrari 458, the Gallardo LP560-4, the Mercedes SLS, and finally the new C7 Corvette Stingray. I started with the Mercedes. The engine in it was epic in a straight line, but the rest was all bad. It didn't want to rotate into corners, feeling for all the world like the axles were on separate continents. And then when the thing finally took a set and you were all eager to power it out eight cylinders blazing, it would get all wiggly and squirrely and force you to rein yourself in, carefully, gingerly feeding in the power like you were handing a leg of lamb to a tiger in a cage. First boring and later nerve-wracking, there was precious little enjoyment to be had in the Mercedes except right down the middle of the front straight. Coming straight from the Mercedes, I found the Corvette to be much more refined as a track car, but it was down ~100hp compared to everything else I tried that day. Although I was logically able to appreciate its virtues as a simple to drive, genuinely fast car that was outrageously good value compared to everything else, there was something crucial, undefinable missing, and the closest I can come to it in words is that it failed to tickle my lizard brain (cf. James May's fizz gland). There was no riotous celebration of internal combustion. There was no gleeful sense of taking tiger by the tail through the tight infield corners. There was no warm afterglow of having not died after taking tiger by the tail. And so it was quickly forgotten. The Gallardo was up next. I had specifically requested to drive it before the Ferrari, which goes to show you what I thought of the cars in relation to one another: the Lamborghini would be fast yes, and dramatic, but ultimately a bit rubbish. A chintzy, unserious bit of entertainment that would utterly pale in comparison to the 458. A Superman comic to the Mona Lisa. Eiffel 65's Blue to Puccini's Nessun Dorma. You get the idea. It would be comprehensively forgotten just as soon as I pulled the finely wrought metal shift paddle of the 458 to put it into first gear (the Gallardo's gear... er... stalks have all the plastic fantastic charm of a GM parts bin interior). How spectacularly uninformed I was. The AWD was incredibly well implemented and confidence-inspiring. Within two or three laps, I was flinging the Gallardo into little four-wheel drifts midcorner and laughing like a maniac in time with the shove from each pull of the gear stalk. Driving the Gallardo felt like kicking the poo poo out of the track. It was like deboning a fish with a perfectly sharp, whippy knife. It was like playing with an insatiable puppy dog that didn't want anything else in the world but to goad you to do more and more and more. This wonderful state lasted until the fun was curtailed by the increasingly nervous pro riding along who asked nicely that I stop squealing the tires so much, but I awoke from it realizing that I was going to try to own a Lamborghini some day. I don't know if you've ever watched Jeremy Clarkson describe a Ferrari as "finger-tippy" but it was exactly like that. From the moment you get into it you're intimidated by its mystique and capabilities, and it's all you can do to keep from constantly apologizing to the car for letting it down with your ham-fisted inputs. I had been trained, from years of driving the Cayman, to use a good amount of mid-corner throttle to help the rear stick. Nope, the pro (this one much less nervous) sitting with me said, it causes the front to wash wide. You've got to turn in aggressively, more aggressively than you might think, and wait till the nose settles fully before getting on the gas. Don't get early or greedy either, because the car will let you know, and you might have to get new underwear. And I wasn't even able to pay attention to the glorious 9,000rpm wail coming from the engine because I was too busy concentrating on the braking point at the end of the straight. The pro was kind enough to give me two free extra laps to get more of a sense of the car, but at the end of the session when I got out I wasn't laughing like I had been in the Lamborghini because I was exhausted. In the end the experience had more in common with practicing the drat piano than driving a car. *** After Vegas life went on as it does and I went about it as a rational person would, having quietly, fondly put away the memories of that day into a little box in the back of the attic in my brain. I gave up my Cayman because my spouse couldn't handle a stick (cough), and it in any case would have been cheaper to have one car instead of two. We cycled through some perfectly competent but comparatively boring cars. There were several Mercedes base models. A BMW 1-series convertible that was old enough to retain some of the classic BMW virtues (Hydraulic power steering! Naturally aspirated straight six!) but ultimately wasn't a patch on the Cayman. A Mazda3 hatch that carried my unappreciative rear end all over many states in the West. At times when I was driving and happened on a fine stretch of road, I would pine for my Cayman and visualize rowing through the gears and nailing the apexes in a certain way. At other times I would get out those memories from Vegas and stare at them and wonder if my path would ever cross another Ferrari or Lamborghini again. And then suddenly there it was: the opportunity to do something about it. I called the local Ferrari dealer (Ferrari insists that you only work with your local dealer), and politely answered a lengthy and surprisingly intrusive series of questions about my socioeconomic status. Then we were permitted to come by and test drive the new Portofino, which my spouse and I had our eye on as a possibly perfect compromise: good power in a RWD package, great looks, convertible, presumably great handling, and the sense of achievement of finally owning a Ferrari. But again the drive was in some small but not insignificant way a letdown. Whether it was the turbo or the maligned Gasoline Particulate Filter, the sound and the feel of the engine was pedestrian. The transmission was far too eager to upshift and far too reluctant to downshift. The rest was pretty good, but the driving experience turned a hell yes into a possibly maybe. But I hadn't yet reckoned on the buying experience. Can you tell me about the ordering process, I asked. Yes, the salesman said, you have to come in again and we have to discuss the colors and options in detail. Just look at this big screen we can watch the visualization on! Well can't you give me a list of options and I just pick from them? No, we have to do it in person. And before you even ask, the pricing of individual options or packages isn't available. We have to generate a full configuration and only then will you receive a quote. So don't bother asking how much something costs, because you wouldn't want to offend the one person you're allowed to speak with to order a Ferrari. Your build date should be about nine months away but we can't really tell you with any precision because the factory just does what it does. You car will show up when it does and then you'll get a call from us. Don't worry, it's how they've done things for decades. Every Ferrari client puts up with this. That was how it came to be that my spouse and I were kept waiting for an hour the following Sunday afternoon while the salesman blew one hour past the start of our appointment, just schmoozing and joking and chatting with another client whose time was clearly more important to the operation than ours was. The dealer did have additional staff in the building, but she was not qualified to talk to us about the Portofino configuration, oh no not at all, and could only smile weakly and offer an endless procession of San Pellegrino in unsatisfying 250ml bottles. But no matter, because the time had finally come to spend several hours in learned discourse about resale values, all the places you can put overpriced carbon fiber on a Ferrari, and so on, and we were transfixed by the thought of: oh my god I'm about to drop a quarter of a million and had better pay attention. Except that they never got back to me with the quote. I waited a week, and received a non-specific but vaguely plausible email about delays at Ferrari's office in New York being backed up. And then radio silence. I was later told by Ferrari owners that the dealers want you to beg them, hound them, call them every day for the incomparable privilege of being bestowed an allocation, like they're doing you a favor by letting you spend your quarter-million dollars on their product. One night I sat down and had one too many glasses of wine with dinner and thought, enough. gently caress these people and their collective loving ilk, I thought. Ferraris are for boomers with too much money who are happy to line up to lick Enzo's dead rear end in a top hat. Then I wondered if Ferrucio Lamborghini felt the same way after his famous argument with Enzo. How odd, to share this kinship with this dead Italian industrialist over Ferrari's awful treatment of their customers. In the days after I'd put together a list of other cars to buy that I reproduce below so we can collectively shake our heads over the stratospheric price increases over the last year. Apart from the prices, which seemed high then but a bargain now, you'll see that the list is in ascending order of weight-to-power ratio, and that there's a certain car at the tippy top: - Ferrari 360 Spider manual (395hp; 3,197lbs; 8.1; 75.7"; 8,500rpm; $110-140K) - Porsche Cayman GT4 (2016; 385hp; 2,955lbs; 7.7; 71.5"; $80-100K) - Porsche 718 GT4 (2020-; 414hp; 3,199lbs; 7.7; 71.0"; 8,000rpm; $130K) - Ferrari F430 Spider manual (483hp; 3,460lbs; 7.2; 75.7"; 8,500rpm; $150-180K) - Aston Martin V12 Vantage S Roadster manual (565hp; 3,847lbs; 6.8; 73.4"; 7,200rpm; $180-200K) - Porsche 997.2 GT3 RS (2008-2011; 444hp; 3,020lbs; 6.8; 72.9"; 8,400rpm; $140-160K) - Ferrari Portofino (2019-2020; 562hp; 3,669lbs; 6.5; 76.3"; $200-230K) - Porsche 991.2 GT3 manual (2018-; 493hp; 3,115lbs; 6.3; 72.9"; 9,000rpm; $140-160K) - Ferrari 458 Spider (570hp; 3,384lbs; 5.9; 76.3"; 9,000rpm; $170-200K) - Lamborghini Huracan LP580-2 Spyder (580hp; 3,327lbs; 5.7; 75.8"; 8,500rpm; $190-220K) I clearly had to do it. The lack of a manual transmission gave me pause, but the Lamborghini had everything else I was looking for: RWD convertible with a screaming redline and big power. I let the numbers push me over the edge, and it felt good to fall. As it turned out, the Lamborghini dealer experience contributed as well. They were every bit as professional and businesslike and easy to deal with as the Ferrari dealer was coy and opaque and frustrating. I'd like this one, I said, for a little less than asking, and I want that to be the out-the-door price. Done, the manager said. We'll arrange shipping and Fedex you the documents. Sign them, wire us on the same day, and send the documents back overnight. The title will follow shortly after. But what about the condition of the car, I asked. I've never set eyes on it. I've never bought anything this expensive without touching it. Don't worry, he said. It will be in perfect condition. Trust us. We sell 30 cars a month. So it was that I trusted him and was rewarded with a mint condition Huracan that arrived at my door in the dead of night on a cold Sunday, and got in and straight away set off down the highway, top down in 50F weather with my heart in mouth, childhood fantasy come to life. *** For as long as I had the Huracan, I would experience this frisson, a little shiver of pleasure, every time I would walk up to it. That's the Lamborghini I drive, my brain would go. Isn't she beautiful. All this without the slightest trace of irony or self awareness. Interestingly the feeling never faded one bit throughout my short period of ownership. To go with this feeling, I developed a strong admiration for how easy the car was, in all respects, compared to some of the horror stories I'd heard about supercar ownership. And also respect, for the sheer quality of all the underpinnings: not a bit of perceptible flex from the chassis, that amazing scream from the engine, the beautiful interior, the rapid operation of the folding top, even the way the car would slam you into the hard rev limiter if you forgot to shift quickly enough. Yes I'd have to remember to flick the front lifter switch before going over a speedbump. Yes I was paranoid about parking it in certain places. Yes parts and labor were stratospherically expensive. And oh god that cupholder. But I never had any kind of issue with it of any sort, and my time with it at the track convinced me that the only things I needed to bring to the table were gumption, patience, slicks, and the willingness to walk away from the carbon fiber wreckage to be one of the fastest people out there. Underneath the veneer of Lamborghini outrageousness is a seriously well engineered car. But there was the rub with the Huracan. All of these ingredients are a good foundation on which to build a relationship, but I was never quite able to take it to the next level. We never fully bonded, never were completely comfortable with one another. Who knows what it was. Perhaps the seats, which remain the most uncomfortable I've ever experienced in a car. Perhaps the lack of a manual gearbox to penetrate the veil of competence put up by the electronics. Perhaps the knowledge that I could be out a massive amount of money if I hosed up in it. Perhaps the constant attention when out in public, and the fear of what might happen to it. Or maybe these are just little niggles that I name for the sake of naming them. In the end maybe it was a feeling that it was too good for me, and that on some level I was unable to accept the car. It was never truly mine. Certainly I respected and admired and appreciated it, and that wasn't enough to keep me from getting rid of it when the opportunity came up. And yet if I concentrate, I can still summon the smell of the leather interior, and the feel of the creaking plastic on the bottom of the steering wheel. And the sound of the starter cranking, followed by the rich, ripe blat of the exhaust booming away in the parking garage. But I don't regret my decision, not at all. I don't pine for it the way I would be constantly pining for my Cayman. Not yet, anyway. *** When I sit in the 993 I sink into the pleated leather seats and am instantly comfortable the way I never was in the Huracan, even if they show 25 years worth of wear and don't smell nearly as charming. When I feel the synchros catch as I shift from first to second, it makes me smile, even though neither the speed nor smoothness of the shift can hold a candle to the Huracan's DSG. When I walk towards my 993 with my key in hand, gazing upon the gentle blue-silver curves, it's not excitement I feel, nor even anticipation. It's a sense of rightness, an appreciation that such a blessedly correct thing could have been brought into the world and that I, of all people, have gotten to own the car I used to play with and fantasize about as a kid. It's mine. How about that? I find myself driving below the speed limit in it. It's been a long time since I've been in a car that could make 30mph feel this entertaining, and yet be as comfortable at 80mph. I know that as long as I keep up with regular maintenance, and do a top end rebuild when the valve guides go, I'll still be enjoying this car in exactly the same way 100,000 miles from now. Wow, 100,000 miles. Ten years? Twenty? Fifty? It's rare that anything gets me thinking this far ahead, and I guess that must be the subtle, quiet Porsche magic at work. That's why this seems like the end of the road for me. I've had my adventures. I've tasted the fruit. There's nowhere else to go but home.
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Aug 28, 2021 02:28
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See you around sometime...
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Aug 28, 2021 02:35
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drat. Thanks for sharing about it with us. GL with the new ride.
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Aug 28, 2021 03:08
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Thanks for bringing us along on the ride!
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Aug 28, 2021 03:12
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That was an excellent write up. Thanks for posting that.
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Aug 28, 2021 08:33
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What a write up, that was fantastic. Love the 993 and I bet you did very well on the Huracan sale, what a great way to 'test drive' a car like that. Makes me appreciate my Cayman even more.
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Aug 28, 2021 10:40
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got off on a technicality posted:See you around sometime... Great sendoff for a great thread.
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Aug 28, 2021 12:02
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bolind posted:That was an excellent write up. Thanks for posting that. Agreed.
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Aug 28, 2021 19:33
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That was almost overwhelming, great writing. All that's left to do of course is post pics of the 993! Or are you starting another thread for that?
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Aug 28, 2021 20:20
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bolind posted:That was an excellent write up. Thanks for posting that.
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Aug 28, 2021 21:30
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Thanks so much for sharing this. What color is the 993? Tough to beat the lambo blue.
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Aug 29, 2021 16:48
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New (old) hotness, with a touch of blue to the silver, which I like to think of as subtle homage to the Huracan
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Aug 29, 2021 18:40
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got off on a technicality posted:When I sit in the 993 I sink into the pleated leather seats and am instantly comfortable the way I never was in the Huracan, even if they show 25 years worth of wear and don't smell nearly as charming. When I feel the synchros catch as I shift from first to second, it makes me smile, even though neither the speed nor smoothness of the shift can hold a candle to the Huracan's DSG. When I walk towards my 993 with my key in hand, gazing upon the gentle blue-silver curves, it's not excitement I feel, nor even anticipation. It's a sense of rightness, an appreciation that such a blessedly correct thing could have been brought into the world and that I, of all people, have gotten to own the car I used to play with and fantasize about as a kid. It's mine. How about that? Awesome writeup regarding the Lambo, and I can't help but agree with you regarding the 993, having had mine for (oh wow) about a year now. The 993 feels so right, even though it's the slowest sports car I've owned so far. It's funny, after a year of ownership, I've been thinking of what I'd replace it with, and I'm honestly not sure. I spent yesterday driving through the mountains here in Colorado and the sheer amount of fun I had at fairly low speeds as incredible. Not sure I'll ever get rid of it at this rate, even with people coming up to me and asking if I'd consider selling it. Occasionally, I'll go back to thinking about adding something more modern, especially since I've always wanted a GT Porsche. Funny enough, I've been looking at the crazy 992 GT3 prices and thinking "you know, a Huracan EVO isn't much more expensive."
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Aug 29, 2021 19:01
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Timely video from last week  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jUM-OWGLhA
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#
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Aug 29, 2021 19:54
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