Over the past few weeks, I’ve had my eye on a particular car, this amazing LP550-2 Tricolore.

At its heart lies the familiar 5.2 V10 engine but with drive only going to the rear wheels with a deficit of 10PS (hence the 550 monicker), alluding to the ethos Lamborghini is trying to preach about less being more. I’ve read a lot about the Balboni and how it’s the best drivers V10 Lamborghini make and I could quite believe it. As incredible as the LP560-4 is, you really do notice the 4WD system, especially on tight bends on track – you feel a slight hovering on the front and a disconnect that punishes any communication you had with the front wheels.

The Tricolore comes fully loaded with every option you’d need on a Gallardo and also comes with carbon wing mirrors and side skirts together with that very cool Italian stripe both across the whole car and also across the drivers seat.

This all being moot, of course, as I’m simply fulfilling some perverted fetish to satisfy a craving for supercars that has left me utterly malnourished over the past 12 months.

Unfortunately, the car wasn’t at London, having being shipped out to Manchester for some showroom sharing – with Ferrari taking valuable floor space whilst their own dealership is having a massive renovation, Lambo London have scant spots to keep these cars.

Instead, they had some other top line V10 cars. First thing to catch your eye in the showroom is the stunning LP570-4 Superleggera, looking fantastic in white. This car really does look best in either black or white, with the carbon exterior trim and dark wheels complementing the car beautifully. Even amongst a company of Lamborghini’s, the SL looks expensive.

Tucked away at the far corner of the showroom was yet another special edition Gallardo. The big difference between this, though, is a significant amount of engineering change. It’s the £225,000, big breath, Lamborghini Gallardo LP570-4 Blancpain Special Edition. It’s basically a road version of the Super Trofeo race series Gallardo. Boasting even more weight saving courtesy of a carbon fibre diet, the car improves it’s power to weight without any engine changes. Personally, I thought the spoiler looked a little ridiculous for a road car and felt the changes removed the purity of the standard shape.

Finally, a Performante. “What’s this? Another limited edition?”. Well, kind of. It’s a convertible version of the Superleggera basically. Aesthetically, it just doesn’t look right. Appreciate it’s Lamborghini’s response to Ferrari’s 16M, but the spoilers, deep front skirts and horrific stickers across the car, combined with the plastic looking engine cover, make this one of the least desirable V10’s for me. No doubt it’s incredible to drive, but this isn’t something I’d be proud to see in the reflections of shop windows as I drive past. What, I’m the only person that does that?

A short walk around the back to where Ferrari have taken up temporary residence and I’m immediately taken back by the surreal presence of the 458. As the dealer went to great pains to explain, Ferrari don’t evolve their cars, they totally reinvent them – and I can totally believe that.

With a 430 Spyder parked next to a 458, the leaps and bounds achieved in the newer model really does put the ageing car into the shade. I can only describe it as a mini Enzo and even parked it was capable of giving me a little shiver.

However, with prices starting at £200k for used examples, it’s only a matter of time before the bottom falls out of these cars. Incredibly, these cars now come with 7 years free servicing and with Lamborghini now giving 4 years factory warranty to all new cars, it’s about time Porsche took note. Each dealer was also full of encouragement with track usage, citing no warranty dangers as such.

Have a test drive booked in a 458 next week. It’s an incredible car with the most fantastic, driver focused interior I’ve ever seen. I honestly believe it represents the very pinnacle of automotive engineering with so much high tech F1 know how crammed into the car, it presents a very different proposition to the slightly ‘agricultural’ feel of the Gallardo’s. The dealer was very happy to remind me that the V10 Gallardo’s were now based on 10 year chassis technology. It’s a huge fact that’s worth considering when buying these cars.

When talking Ferrari’s, it’s clear you’re buying into a club, more so in fact than Lamborghini. The Red car dealer doesn’t want to sell you a car, he wants to sell you 10 cars over 10 years. As you take delivery of your car, he’s determined to take your deposit down for the next one. This is pretty typical of an average Ferrari owner frankly, demonstrating that he’s more interested in owning the next best car, rather than a subjective decision based on individual merit. Even as Louis Walsh walked in, newspaper in hand, I was for a split moment completely ignored mid-conversation as the dealer walked over to him instead.

We eventually concluded that everybody loves a Lamborghini, but Ferrari’s are either loved or hated, despite their obvious game changing car, the 458. It’s clearly a massive step forward and is no doubt a better car dynamically than the V10.

Couldn’t help feel though that as impressive as the soundtrack on the new V8 was, it sounded quite artificial and I wondered if in doing so, some spark in its soul was lost? Just can’t beat that V10 sound really.

Web Temple works alongside my existing company, demoMedia, but focuses much more on the small business or those without the large corporate budgets. It really is ridiculously cheap and without even launching I’ve had a lot of feedback already.

So please, please, please pass on the news so I can get myself back into a bloody LP560 – my nights are long and lonely!

I should know better as it’s scarcely been a couple of months since I left an iPad and a camera in my holdall on a train and subsequently lost it to the charitable endeavours of mankind. How gently do I revere fellow man….

However, I did learn one lesson from that ill fated first moment of insanity and that was to purchase a MobileMe license and to install Find-My-iPhone on all my iDevices. So it was with this anticipated knowledge that I rushed back to my office and opened up my browser to locate the iPhone.

It essentially works from three different options. The SIMM card, the phones GPS antenna and wifi. So even if they take the SIMM card out, I should still be able to track it. But the phone needs to be switched on in order to send the signal.

The first thing I did was a remote device lock. Although my phone locks automatically after a few seconds with a password screen, I wanted to remain prudent. Next step was to send it an immediate screen message offering £200 reward together with an audible signal. All these options are available through the MobileMe application, together with a last minute option, the remote wipe. This zaps all data from the device and renders it blank, saving any potential data compromise.

From 11am until 5pm I must have refreshed the Google Maps based application 200 times. Nothing. No signal, no response nada. It was excruciatingly frustrating and given how I’d already lost all my hope in humanity, I was fast building up a Falling Down moment.

By 6pm, I’d given up. Initially, I’d considered the reason the phone had no location signal was because it was still on the underground, so lost property were notified. But before long I knew it was a fruitless ambition.

I find solace in these stressful events by way of retail therapy, so off to Selfridges in Oxford Street. It was a £700 replacement, which is ridiculous given that Apple choose to penalise you for losing or having your phone stolen. With no insurance, the replacement was going to be expensive.

It was about 7pm as we left Selfridges when down the escalators towards the tube, I was asked about my data and if I’d lost it all. As a demonstration, I opened my iPad to show that all my data was synched through cloud technology. And then it happened….PING..iPhone 4 located 3 minutes ago!

The map hadn’t drawn yet as we were underground. So a fast sprint upstairs back to ground level and we settled in Pret to check the map again. By pure chance, the location was about a mile away from me, at a shop in Tottenham Court Road. The application is very accurate and is detailed enough to show you exactly where the phone is to within a couple of metres.
I jumped in a cab and started a journey that would take 3 minutes without traffic but 25 with. Just then, the iPhone lost it’s signal, prompting fears that the one person to find my phone knows to take it to TCR where there are a plethora of shops that unlock and unblock iPhones. I had to rush there as it was merely a matter of time before it would be lost forever.

As we turned up to the shop, we realised there were two of these poxy shops side by side, so we started the ‘pincer move’. It was quite clear that one of the shops was lying and the other was quite sympathetic. It was time to step up the aggression.

I made it obvious that unless my phone appeared in my hand within the next few minutes I would put on a show for them. I was so angry at this point I threatened to trash the shop, and I would have done. I also stated that I would then wait for the police and explain to them that I had trashed this joint as they handled stolen phones and I had evidence to prove it.

This seemed the right tactic as within minutes I had the phone in my hand. I can only assume that they bought the phone off whoever found my iPhone, I’d suspect for a couple of hundred pounds, with intent to resell. It’s obvious that this happens quite a lot and MobileMe is going to make it very difficult for these cowboys to continue in this practice.

I celebrated with a massive McDonalds. Justice was served and I had my phone back in my grasp. Having a MobileMe account does have various uses, not least for knowing the exact whereabouts of your devices, a service of which could be abused if used for the wrong reasons. But it does require a level of confidence to do something when chasing a stolen / lost phone. I was happy to face a confrontation but some people may prefer more peaceful methods, many of which would not bear any fruit to your endeavours.

Celebrations!

There’s a distinct attitude present in the Lambos every action which acutely represents its multi-layered characteristics in stark fashion. From the very moment you unlock the doors, there’s an angry hiss as the fuel pumps go to work to prep what is possibly the LOUDEST ignition and engine start noise ever (video below). It’s absurd that a car like this can pass noise regulations without a £50 note shoved into an envelope.

Lamborghini London made the sale pretty much irresistible for me really. After a test drive in the black LP560 (no more than 50MPH in built up areas), I had pretty much made the decision to buy it. I’d actually gone to see an R8 V10 they had in stock, but what a ridiculous notion to assume that I’d walk into a Lamborghini dealership and drive out with an Audi….

Trepidation meets anticipation as you gently pull the e-gear to first, not quite sure what to expect for the first time and as you prod the throttle through its obscenely offset pedals, the car lurches forward as you’d expect an angry bull to do so just before a charge. And unless you’ve mastered the e-gear shifting, then expect an impolite reprimand from the Lambo as it angrily shifts into the next gear, unceremoniously jerking your passengers head. Take your time to learn the system, however, and you can learn to lift off before each gear change, allowing for far smoother upshifts. Prepare, also, for the savage acceleration which can, if not controlled, can spin all four wheels into the direction of the nearest solid object.

So initial thoughts? It’s a simply stunning road car. I mean, just look at it! I strongly believe that we have a future design classic. The lines are so pure and compact, the car is a moving eye magnet. I have never seen a car attract so much attention. I thought the Green RS was a show stopper, well the LP is in a different league. Passengers get taxis to follow you, pedestrians change their mind when crossing the road, opting instead to sit by the traffic light to hear the car go. Dogs jump out of their skins on downshifts and have to figure out what the fuck can be so big to chant a 110db bark.

Dynamically, compared to a GT3, it’s a heavy weapon. The RS, a surgeons scalpel, is a precision tool designed to sow one bend to the other with effortless consistency. The LP, on the other hand, is a carpet bomb of destruction. It’s so devastatingly fast and ruthless, a mash of the loud pedal takes gigantic lunges out of the road. WIth a comedy 8500 RPM redline (I mean for the love of Christ, have you heard a 5.2 V10 do 8,500RPM? It’s unholy!), the temptation to constantly wring the neck of the LP is frankly way too tempting. Especially given the approving gestures of joe public! And then there’s the downshifts, each pull of the left paddle accompanied by a satanic bark matching revs, it terrifies and delights the public in equal measure. I’ll never forget the sight of the dog turning on its owner after a particularly close downshift in Bond Street!

So far, I’m utterly enamoured by the car. It’s stunning to look at, it sounds incredible and has one of the greatest engines ever. Accompany this with a true, italian style leather interior (somebody was quoted as saying “It smells of Gaucho Grill in here!”), and interior ergonomics which tick all checkboxes (despite Audi switchgear!), and we have a multi-dimensional offering that acts as a benchmark for all super cars.

It’s that situation that plagues me now, where only a couple of days ago, in fact only a few hours ago, the mere thought of a new car was but a distant impossibility. Now, having evaluated my boredom, I’ve come to the conclusion that I need at least another two cars. Let me explain….

Anybody who reads these inane ramblings will no doubt understand that nothing is ever rational, nor is it borne from a school of logical thought. Our ideas are as fleeting as the British weather so they carry neither rhyme nor reason.

However, it is quite clear that I need some form of every day transport. No, I do not drive to work, but that is, of course, irrelevant. I simply need to have transport that would carry me with comfort, style and not without some power. I was at a petrol station last week late into the night at the motorway services. Anybody who’s familiar will know that these can be ghostly arenas late at night devoid of traffic both in mechanical and human variety. As I pulled up to the pumps, there was a car in front of me that had overtaken me a short while ago on the M1. As I got out, the driver was getting into his car having filled up and paid his duties and made to pull off.

The sound of his engine starting was a cerebral shock. How could such a once respectable, mass manufacturer of quality executive class cars be so irresponsible in their creation of something so unholy. Not only did my trousers vibrate in its wake, but I also did not notice that I had embraced a fierce smile that would have placed my sanity to the duty attendant into question.

The car, of course, was an AMG C63. 6.2ltrs of V8 goodness. SIX POINT TWO LITRES. How did that thing get through planning stages at Mercedes? Was it an April Fools joke, played upon the board of directors that someone was forgotten about as it got passed onto product development??

Regardless. That night, I was on Pistonheads classifieds pouring over these immense, German hot-rods. I’ve given up trying to justify it to the wife and have already considered contract hire rates versus 2nd hand options. Having chatted to a few ex-owners, it’s quite clear that they leave a positive lasting impression where they often regret the sale. One friend said his C63 was so awesome, he actually got run over by his own car as someone attempted (successfully) to car jack him during a faux sale process.

Am I certifiable?

In honour of this tradition, the 997 Turbo Convertible and I did check each other out in the reflection a couple of weeks back, when the weather was glorious, that one weekend where we had 32 deg sunshine all day. Yeah fine, shoot me, but it was a perfect day for many reasons and glancing at that oversized Gap shop window, I couldn’t help but feel I was blessed with the luck of the gods for that afternoon. And I felt that the bond was complete.

There I was, sat in that car, good looking woman sat in my side, the shopping bags of excess in the back seats, hood down and the world at my feet. Suddenly, I understood the joys of owning this car. Granted, that kind of day comes once a year, if that, and you need to weigh up the incredible sense of wellbeing generated on that one summers day, versus the remaining 364 days of depressing rain in the UK. It has, after all, been a cloudy summer ever since that day and I’ve not seen a clear sky since.

Of course, that’s a harsh assessment, but it does imply some truths. Life’s all about balance and that sliding scale is adjusted according to the kind of person you are. For me, that one particular day, cruising around in central London, posing in a car pretending to be 2011 summer-wear catwalk model, judging by the sheer number of photographs taken of the car, was so obscenely awesome that the compromise was almost worth having to drive the car with the hood up for the rest of the year.

And it is a car about excesses and perfectly suited to the life of someone who spends a lot of time in central london. The black wheels really set off the car and it gains both admiration and derision in equal measure, probably for the same reason. It demonstrates a type of lifestyle which even I succumbed to, even if it was out of my own reach in reality.

The lazy tiptronic gearbox works terribly when in pursuit of raw thrills, but for cruising around town, soaking up the sun, it was merely sufficient as it gently shifts from one long ratio to the next, allowing you instead to bask in your own glory.

Make no mistake though. Even though the tiptronic makes brisk progress difficult (the gears were way too long for a turbo charged car with such a specific power band), once you did get those turbos spooling, it really was a very quick car and I suspect there’s no more effective a way of giving yourself a scalp massage. I remembered later on when I drove my RS again I was almost slightly underwhelmed by it’s power delivery. Almost.

Frankly, the only reasons for disliking this car can be very quickly made better by adjusting the options list. Dump that awful gearbox in favour of PDK, get a better, thick rimmed steering wheel and maybe even add the letter ‘S’ to the boot.

I was actually quite upset to see it go, even if i was comforted by the approach of imminent rain. Since then the weather hasn’t been anything like it was for that week I had the car and that’s consolation in itself, as I’d have been truly depressed if it was.

Would I swap my RS for one? I’d almost certainly consider it. Given how few track days I’ve done this year, the RS is almost wasted on the driveway. Lately I’ve been needing to drive to work in the City a lot and in the RS that’s been an exercise in self control and tolerance. Only today I attracted the unwanted attention of City police again, driving erratically, swapping lanes often and doing, wait for it, FORTY miles per hour. I’m just a giant animated bill board on wheels selling crack cocaine to small children. The Turbo in contrast was a joy with it’s compliant suspension, four seats, auto box, sat nav and Bose sound system. I will stress though, this car needs a companion in the passenger seat, perhaps even in the drivers seat. Just make sure he/she is good looking!

It’s a fabulous car and if you can afford such a luxury as a second toy, nothing really ticks as many boxes. It massages your ego, tickles the senses and fools you into a false sense of delusional grandeur. I know, I’ve changed my tune somewhat. But I guess that’s what a few days of awesome weather does. It puts this car totally into perspective. It’s not a pure drivers car in the manner I’ve come to judge. A quick drive in the RS yesterday up and down the road had me reversing back into my garage with my heart beating and my legs shaking – no joke. But the Turbo offers itself as a driving pleasure that can only be truly savoured at the right time and the right place. Reach that zenith and you’ll have your awakening.

Excuse me whilst I engage in the pastime enjoyed by all car enthusiasts the world over, I’m just going to pour over the classifieds.

The theory test followed which was really a combination of multiple choice questions firstly on flags, then hypothetical scenarios on and off track. Easy stuff and an easy pass. Now comes the expensive bit. Decent kit on its own is going to cost me in the region of £1500.00 and I’ve already started looking at cars such as this:
http://www.pistonheads.com/sales/1244526.htm

So my question to myself, do I get a 997RS.2, or do I go for something cheaper and sink some money that I don’t have into racing?

Why didn’t I take up a cheaper hobby? Something like flight?

1) I place order for a GT3 gen2 at Porsche Reading
2) Car arrives, I’m deliriously happy – so much so, that I want to go for an RS gen2
3) I get an opportunity to take a friends order for a 1st place RS. Dealer in question agrees to the swap.
4) I decide to sell the GT3 in anticipation of the forthcoming RS. Porsche Reading make me an offer and I accept.
5) Porsche ask questions about this ‘RS’ I’ve organised. I say very little. Shortly after, a memo gets sent around to all dealers – “No order transfers are allowed”.
6) I lose my slot on the RS
7) I ask Porsche to sell me back my GT3 – they agree on the Friday. I ask for some short time to arrange finances
8) I call back Monday multiple times and email them to arrange transfer
9) Tuesday I receive email that explains car has been sold to somebody else.

This makes me sick to the teeth. I’m pretty much convinced Porsche Reading have had a hand in ensuring that this RS order got rescinded. Still, having just purchased my 3rd GT3 (only parted £90k with them a month before) I’d have expected a little common courtesty over the weekend by way of “Hi Cem, I’ve got somebody interested, do you definitely want the car back?”. Nothing.

Even now, I am sending emails to them asking for Dealer Principle names and I am being ignored.

Perhaps I should have done what any other budding opportunist would have done by way of making a massive premium on the car when I sold it. I could easily have put a £10k sticker on top.

Ugh…

Immediate assumptions will no doubt question the quality of my locale. Fact is, it’s an affluent area in North London and is somewhat well regarded as a ‘family friendly’ region. It is unfortunate that the very nature of London is a celebration of ethnic and cultural diversity. A hub of cosmopolitan and cross national activity, it has become so rich in identity that in tragic ironic circumstance, it also has none.

The house in question is a dream home. Bought at the absolute peak of the housing boom, the region is so independant in it’s own little micro-economy, it’s amazing to have found that the value of the property has actually increased considerably – relatively speaking. It’s your pretty standard fare of being a 4 bedroom house with a separate garage, front garden and back garden, driveway etc. Suburban idealist living.

About a year after moving in, I fell ill with flu and decided to take the day off and sit at home. Whilst in bed, the distant sound of chaos attempted to drive through my dreams. Feverous temperatures normally tell my brain to switch off strange, uncommon sounds. But the persistance of the sounds piqued my curiosity and in my drunken like stupor, I dragged my heals across the floor to the staircase and started to descend. Half way down, the stark, shocking realisation that I wasn’t alone suddenly cleared my head of any dull, smokescreen. To then find two africans standing there, in my living room, hoods erected to disguise themselves, was the single most effective wake up call I’ve ever experienced. A sudden rush of adrenaline had me leap the final steps and curse towards their direction.

Between you and I, reader, it was all an elaborate con. I’m not really a violent man, but I had to show agression. What, also, were to happen had they called my bluff, turned around and said “Yeah, what?”

Thankfully, they paniced more than I, perhaps not really expecting anybody at home. As they scalped themselves diving headfirst out of the window, I chased them out onto the street in my undies.

Since then, I’ve had a bike stolen – twice. The lastest was my pride and joy, the Cannondale carbon leftie. All this has culminated in another attempted break in last week where somebody had tried to wedge a tool of some description behind the handle of my front door.

Each successive time I am intruded upon, I improve my security. Right now, I have a high quality alarm. I’ve rebuild all my security doors. I’ve got double glazing ALL around, including new doors. I’ve bricked up my window of my garage and replaced the door with a security door. I’ve rebuilt my gate into a secure version, together with anit-pigeon nails. We’ve done our driveway, opened it up and fitted security lights all around.

I wrote to my Borough Commander, the Chief Superintendant of my borough. I explained how despondant I was and that I no longer wanted visits from community support officers telling me of ways to improve my security. Enough! I claimed, no more onus on me – what are the Police to do about this? How will they demonstrate the protection we need from them?

After two months, I received a reply. Except, it wasn’t from him. It wasn’t even pp’ed. It was a generic letter written to me from a staffer, apologising and telling me, exactly as would a politician, that they try the best they can with resources they have and have a happy life thanks goodbye.

In fact, I hadn’t finished reading the letter before it hit the bottom of my bin. Pathetic.

I’ve recently been arguing with my local station about what they will do about this. Again, I’m called by ‘Community Support Officers’ and ‘Victims Support’ call centres. I don’t fucking want consolation, I also don’t want rehab nor do I want any other stupid, fucking leftist concept of crime prevention in my life. It’s making me screwy mad. The two intruders are KNOWN to the police – they have DNA samples and fingerprints from my home. They KNOW where they live!! They know they’re out, right now, committing a crime somewhere yet they can do fuck all.

I had a the station sergeant ring me and tell me not to bother going into the station as I’d be told the same thing – there’s nothing else that can be done for me. I yell and shout, I get angry, I get vexxed. I’m told that they simply do not have the police resources to do the job they want. I cry ‘foul’ – bollox. It’s simply untrue, so I unwind onto them……

Back in May sometime, my wife ‘allegedly’ clipped the wingmirror of a parked car. Disputes followed, in the end I paid up the £250.00 for a new wing mirror and left it at that. She has since received a court summons form the Crime Prosecution Service for (1) driving without due care and attention and (2) failing to stop at a scene of an accident. I kid you not. Would somebody on planet sanity please explain to me how this can be of ANY benefit to the tax payer? We’re ushered into court where the bloke in front is let go with a £200 fine for driving over the weight limit in his lorry, without insurance. Why doesn’t he have insurance? Because he has no license. Why not? Because he’s an asylum seeker.

I went out Monday night as you may have read. I was flashed by a camera three times and I was stopped by police three times on the way home.

How on earth can they claim that they have no resources when it’s quite clear that the decent, law abiding, tax paying responsible citizens of this country are penalised for simply being citizens??

Something bad is going to happen. Either I’m going to take the law into my own hands and mash the head of an intruder in with a 6 cell Maglite torch, leading to my arrest, loss of business, loss of income, etc, etc. Or, the police will find me in a pool of blood with one of my own kitchen knives embedded kindly into my chest. The press will then get a hold of this story and discover that I’d been pleading with the police to do something about it, to appropriate their spending into areas that PROTECT those that are responsible, not persecute.

Thank you very much labour, you’ve fucked and sodomised this country into the next decade. As I sit here at 12am, I await my fate with the prospect of three fines arriving at my doormat over the next few weeks. Nick Griffin isn’t a very nice man. In fact, he didn’t really appear to be an intelligent man. But he’s sitting in a golden opportunity as he offers the people of UK a right wing view of England that is almost utopian in comparison to the liberal ideals of the 21st century. It really is no wonder that he’s gaining voters and unless a respectable party wisens up to the problems of the man on the street, then those gaps are going to increase.

In Jurassic Park, they recreated a dinosaur from a DNA sample. Is it possible to do that with Maggie?

GT3 is proving to be as predictably good as ever. Just approaching 1000 miles now, the sound is fabulous, speed is pretty feroucious and handling and grip is phenomenal. You really have to be quite violent to shake it. However, steel discs are starting to show signs of warping, I really hope that isn’t the case. Will be dropping into Porsche Reading to investigate.

Normal service will resume.

Great article in Evo a month or two back where Henry Catchpole wrote:
The ‘So what’s your favourite car, then?’ question is tricky. I get asked it a lot. It’s a staple query from random, well-meaning people at christenings and engagement parties, most of whom like watching Clarkson & Co on Sunday evenings. I used to launch into a small speech about why it’s simply impossible to pick a favourite and how you need a big barn with at least ten parking spaces so that there’s room for a car for every situation. Five minutes later, just as I’d be explaining why an F40 is not really a choice but a necessity, I’d realise that their eyes had glazed over – they didn’t like cars that much and this wasn’t the quick, satisfactory answer they wanted.
Then I drove a GT3. I still maintain the ten-car principle, but now I always say that if I won the lottery I would walk straight out the next day and buy a 911 GT3

Evo Magazine Review of GT3

I concur old boy, I concur.

Regardless, I must go on. This car is MINT guys, you will not find a cleaner example at this price.
so….

In anticipation of my new arrival due end of September, I am now putting up for sale the best car I’ve ever owned.
Most of you know this car, but for those that don’t:

• 997 GT3
• White
• Club Sport spec
• Carbon bucket race seats
• Red belts
• Drivers and passengers harnesses
• Centre console painted in white
• Bi-Xenon lighting system
• Porsche Communication Management (PCM) including navigation module
• Sound Package Plus incl. CD storage box
• Carbon kick plates
• Porsche floor mats
• Wheel centre set
• Windscreen with grey top tint

Brakes
FRONT: PF Discs and pads on front (over 75% life left)
REAR: OE discs and RS29 pads (over 75% life left)
18,500 miles
Remainer of extended Official Porsche Warranty (8 months)

Full Porsche Service History

In addition to this, there’s a suitcase full of receipts, some I’m proud of, some I don’t like looking at! They represent the level of care that has gone into this car.

It’s just had another service at FearnSport, supplementary to service schedule requirements.
The car has also recently had a non-essential gearbox oil change. RMS was done recently under warranty and has been replaced by the now indestructable metal piece. All GT3’s will need this at some point.

It has gone through it’s entire life with vinyl protection (this has been replaced fully once a year). The front skirt is brand new and the front bumper is resprayed (as all OPC cars are).

Wheels do not have a SINGLE mark on them, no kerbed alloys.

This is a car that looks and feels like it has just come out of the showroom and needs not a penny spending on it. Matt at Fearnsport has brough this car to new condition and I daren’t see it in case I drive it again. It’s even got a brand new windscreen dammit!

Price to release car is £65k. No further offers as I have committed considerable spend on the car recently to ensure it’s showroom fresh. It has literally cost me thousands.

Inspections welcome. It’s currently sat at Fearnsport and will remain there until it’s sold.

For some of my more memorable exploits with this car, you can read here:

why-the-997-gt3-is-the-best-car-ive-ever-owned

1000-miles-and-my-honeymoon-period-is-over

200mph-the-world-sideways-and-conquered-fear

monza

Now, a while later, the clip (that was never actually meant to be shown!) is available to download and view in beautiful HD. I’ve watched this 2m 57s clip about 20 times now in the past two days and I am still hungry for more. There is a pretty cool viral campaign that has gone on in the background for a while, right up to the launch of a replica Flynn’s arcade shop.

Some great articles here on this blog, together with download links to a high resolution HD Quicktime versions of the movie.

http://tronfaq.blogspot.com/

That kind of shake up mid-morning really can affect your awareness of your surroundings and I simply had no idea who, what, or when I was. A few moments later after having asked myself a number of questions that essentially became more coherent (Who am I, where am I, what is that noise, what’s the next logical step to cancel out said noise) I realised the house alarm had gone off. What started off as major confusion quickly developed into building concern.

As I rushed down to the living room, I switched the alarm off and took stock of the situation. Immediately I saw the rear garage door open and the security lights on. I didn’t even have to go and investigate to know what had happened. My awesome new bike had been stolen. Again.

Police naturally turned up, looked around and failed to pick up anything apart from the obvious “Ahh we can see what they were after” as soon as he saw the GT3. NO! They are NOT after the bright white Porsche 911 – they are simply fucking jobless scrotes who float amongst the scum of society and reap the benefits that we, as citizens, earn.

A few months back I took a right turn at a junction I was not allowed to do so. Given my extensive time behind the wheel of fast cars and circuit driving, I made the decision to do so and understood it was neither a dangerous nor reckless manouvre. Four days later I had a letter in my box at home with an attatched photo of my car, details of the ‘crime’, information about payment terms etc.

How is it my house gets broken into four times in a year and the police are utterly feckless as to the location, destination, identity of these animals?

The sooner ID cards are issued in this country, the better. Currently, I am hating the world knowing that some fucking cock is on a Canondale Carbon Rush SL1 – and he has no fucking clue.

Sigh….no wonder this country is fucked.

However far and few rewards are with owning a car forum, it can be satisfying at times seeing the uninterrupted dialogue between owners and enthusiasts alike, existing simply because you’ve provided for it and continue to maintain and massage the systems and staff required to run it, regardless of the mountains of cash that can be easily consumed when attempting to keep it ahead of the game.

Even so, I am at a loss when witnessing silently the anger and confusion dealt in equal measure to those currently awaiting for more information regarding their imminent GTR’s. Never have I seen such ambiguity and chaos during the launch of what is hailed as a seminal car. Now that certain criteria has been cast in to the light of scrutiny, it’s easy to see the reason why many others have cancelled.

VDC on/off is a topic of heated discussion with many thousands of words exchanged in the name of clarity but without any success. Nobody still knows the stance of Nissan and the VDC palaver and it’s subsequent effect on warranty status. Pre- and post-track day inspections are frankly hilarious and illustrate the fact that Nissan appear to have lost all control of the situation, preferring to make up rules as and when the voices of discontent increase in volume. Alleged costs of maintenance yearly are in the region of £4000.00 and the fact that Nissan are threatening to void warranties when these conditions are not met are in stark contrast to the Porsche baiting bravado they were keen to exhibit during the glared, lens flared launch over a year ago.

Porsche are at the top of their game for a reason and Nissan’s chipping away at their reputation has been nauseating at the least. Specifically, as a key target demographic, I’d like to see some evidence of these feats being met before championing them. I’ve done over 30 track days in Porsches and their warranty is rock solid. I do not need no nonsense inspections by Porsche in order to validate my legitimacy to partake on these events. I’ve just been to Porsche only a couple of weeks ago to extend my warranty and they were witness to both my horrendously obtuse brake discs and pads and my sticky track tyres. The questions I was asked were along the lines of “What did you think of Oulton Park?”, “I’ve added a litre of oil to your car, no problem – enjoy Silverstone and when you’re back, I’ll let you have a play with a Cayman”.

Nissan have launched this car on massively false pretences.

• The launch was smothered with news of its record breaking performance on the Nurburgring, smashing all previous times set by other manufacturers.
• The car was unveiled at the Goodwood Festival of Speed
• The car was shown to Europe at the Geneva Motorshow last year with a scale to size model of the entire Nurburgring circuit, with plasma screens showing the various track performance snippets. The main attraction, on the hour, was in-car video footage of a banzai lap of the ‘Ring.
• Race academy was introduced to new owners. A choice of Silverstone or Nurburgring was offered to hone the skills of deposit paid buyers
• Race helmets were sent out to owners.
• Ad infinitum

Porsche offer a no-cost option on their track focused cars called the Club Sport package. This comes with a roll-cage, fire extinguisher, race harnesses and in the case of earlier models, fuel cut out switches. There is no hidden deceit with regards to how Porsche are promoting the GT3.

Time will tell the attitude of Nissan dealers and their umbrella supporters, Nissan GB, but at the moment all I can see are disgruntled expectants who are waiting for a spark to convert en mass to alternative cars.

I suggest Nissan spend some time in clearing the mess of the current GTR before continuing to market the Spec-V. The fact that UK owners have to wait a whole year after the ROW is a comically unjust distribution. Ultimately, there is one question to ask:

Is the Nissan GTR a track car, or not?

As spring rears it’s anticipated head, the beehive of activity surrounding this community of events gains momentum and the contagious energy shared by anyone interested in cars and octane reels in fanatics alike to the many locations across the UK, now amongst the most active trackday scene in the world.

It’s not just glory and fame though, with the pleasure gained from the few hours destroying tyres from increased friction, the eroding pads from over-zealous braking later and later by the minute, and the visible evidence of fuel being burnt at alarming rates – not least those who find misfortune and misery buried deep in the tyre walls of our championed locales. No, these moments of memory can be overshadowed by the vast quantities of funds that can be swallowed whole through the pursuit of these sports.

The GT3 is a remarkable benchmark, offering supercar levels of performance, but with relatively low running costs. Employ a modicum of mechanical sympathy, however, and your car is constantly being looked after by independants and official Porsche centre’s alike. Oil changes, filter changes, gear boxes, brakes, pads, discs, suspension, wheels, tyres, vinyl protection, resprays, ad infinitum.

I won’t disclose the small fortune this week has cost me in preparation for this week’s trackday at Oulton Park, but it’s enough to challenge your on-track sympathy. I can also see the logic of using a smaller, lighter, cheaper car for trackday thrills – something that uses smaller brakes, uses narrower tyres, has running costs so low it’d be cheaper to buy a new engine than to rebuild it.

All those thoughts evaporate after another spirited drive in the car. I am actually quite excited to pick the car up from Fearnsport tomorrow. By all intents, it should feel like a new car with almost all consumables refreshed to new standard. Add to this the fact that Porsche have just charged me £1400.00 for one year warranty renewal, I’m on top of the world (of debt).

It’s a Cannondale Carbon Rush SL1, top of the range carbon lefty. I’ve not had a chance to ride it yet (at home with cold) but it’s currently parked in my living room looking incredibly sexy.

Got a monster 100km ride booked for April so training needs to start asap or I’m gonna look like the idiot who went into the cycle shop with an empty wallet and said “make me look like robocop please”.

Black bike is my stolen one. The one that was stolen. Stolen from me. Owned by me but nicked. Stolen. Taken without consent.

So what are my contemplations?

Well, how about this fantastic Gallardo Spyder, in my opinion the best looking open top there is. Its price has dropped pretty violently in the past 3-4 months and with all the right options too – sat nav, white, ceramic brakes, callisto wheels etc. And at 85k before haggling, that’s a veritable bargain! The Spyder is also based on the 06 model Gallardo which came with a whole heap of upgrades and improvements over the original launch car. Only caveat is the launch of the new LP560 – naturally this will have a knock on effect on prices of existing cars. Still, ultimate pose mobile?

Another Gallardo, but with more function. Proven already as a competent track tool, the Gallardo Superleggera is probably the best looking production track car ever! They’ve becoming increasingly popular lately as a result of their sudden price drops from £160k + options down to £90k bargains. Stunning lookers but with a horrible transmission that you just know will betray you when you least expect it. Only other caveat is running costs of a Lamborghini track car. If you need to ask, you can’t afford it. This one is £99k with only 3,000 miles on the clock. Crazy.

“What’s this?” I hear you ask. Yeah, the GT3 is so goddamn hardcore, I’m looking for another. But as with housing, you buy cheap, you also sell cheap. I’m also quite interested in a change of colour and this black example looks rock solid. Only problem is finding a spec that I want (club sport, PCCB brakes and sat-nav). That combination doesn’t come up often. I’m even looking for a possible RS. Still, there’s something to be said for GT3 residuals. For a car that cost me £86k new over 2 years ago and is still commanding £60k + prices, that is an absolute awesome result. This particular example is on for £67k

Or hour about this, the 599 Ferrari? It was only 6 months ago that these beauties were available for no less than £230k. They really were sought after and now, they’re hovering from £125k onwards. Not quite affordable, but a certain bargain for sure? This made Evo’s car of the year don’t forget and as for looks divides opinion, but for me it’s one of the most dramatic cars on the road today.

Still not convinced? I know, this V12 monster is right up your street. An £80k Murcielago can’t be ignored so blatantly, no other car arouses as much interest, especially in this orange. As far as traffic stoppers go, what else for this money? I can think of no other. It is agricultural, uncouth, abrasive and certainly inappropriate in today’s climate – but you can’t deny the Lamborghini daddy.

Best place one can be is with no cars and the cash in bank. But then, who says anybody with petrol in his veins is sensible?

Although personally, the effects are not quite as dramatic as experienced by others less fortunate, I have borne witness to large changes to spending habits in my specific industry. The city is muted, phones aren’t ringing and there is constant scrutiny on spend and budgetary concerns. Begone, I say to whims of pessimism and chords of dissent! Scarcely do I hear good news on the economy as the media has turned the debacle into a self perpetuating disaster with constant murmurs of discord.

Still, it seems that there are those as yet unperturbed by the downturn of our financial house of cards as they continue to spend money akin to those with zero monetary concern. Cars are now so ridiculously cheap that not a day goes by without me considering a trade in (worry not, it would be for another GT3 – I have eyes for no other!) but the truth of it is, if you buy cheap, you sell cheap.

So we sit tight and count the days until we are greeted either by the four riders of the apocalypse, or a herald of better tidings (According to America, it’s Obama?). My financial adviser tells me to remain liquid and force back thoughts of early repayment of mortgages. Banks aren’t lending, clients aren’t paying and computer games are STILL nearly fifty quid!

Although, there are good aspects to this economy. Interest is so low my mortgage has halved, there are some bargains to be had out in retail and as a closet hagglist, I am finding ridiculously easy targets out there. And if you’re an employed individual with relatively safe job prospects, then it’s never been better. Your cost of living has essentially halved, VAT is lowered so your iPods are cheaper (and continue to make Apple unprecedented sales records) and even the likes of Northern Rock get bonuses!

Possibly the best muscle car ever made

I can easily become totally absorbed with something I enjoy, to the point of allowing it to consume me. Such is the situation now.

I’ve just returned again from another hopeless trip and for the first time I wished I was in a different car. You can easily get addicted to the Nurburgring. I’ve been 6-7 times this year as it truly is the greatest circuit ever. But it demands commitment of the kind I am simply unable to provide. You cannot learn this circuit in anything less than ten visits. They say it takes 50 laps to start to learn the ring and another 50 to learn the lines. That’s over 2000km of track time. Ouch.

After having returned from the Ring yesterday, the third consecutive failure, I’m beginning to think about my purpose there. It absolutely pissed it down all day and some places had zero visibility. This was also supposed to be a Ring training day with the Scuderia 7 training organisation. After 4 laps of ducks and drapes, it took 3 moments of abject terror in the car for me to accept a warning when I’m given one from him upstairs. That’s it folks, I’m going home.

Even getting home was without doubt one of the most traumatising events I’ve ever experienced in a car. I’ve often waxed lyrical about the wonders of European roads and their total lack of UK traffic (although the amount of roadworks in Germany lately is worrying), but if you’ve ever driven in torrential rain in Europe, you’ll know what I mean. Almost all autobahn’s are made of concrete, which is possibly down to the fact that tarmac melts at high European temperatures. But the problem with concrete is it doesn’t absorb any water and it simply doesn’t know what to do with it, it just sits as a huge 200 mile long puddle. Add to this a Porsche GT3 with Michelin Cups and you’re basically as responsible as a suicide bomber. As you can see from these treads, it was largely impossible to not act like I was having an epileptic fit at the wheel everytime I encountered standing water. I suspect I did the entire return journey sideways. Must be a world record there?

My entire journey home was drenched in contemplation as I was overtaken, ironically, by £1000 cars with less than 90BHP. I simply could not keep up and considered what a joy it would have been to have done the journey in my 2.0TDi Golf, which in real world terms, is A Better Car.

And another thing! If I see another bratwurst or a schnitzel, I’m going to staple my eyeballs through broken glass. There literally is no such thing as German cuisine and, in stereotypical fashion, food appears to be nothing other than a source of energy. A means to an end.

I arrived back at home utterly drained. So much concentration was absorbed in trying to get home at 50MPH, I suffered a neurological meltdown and collapsed at home exhausted. Waste of a 1000 miles. Waste of a £1000.00. Waste of 2 days. I’m all ‘Ringed out now and looking at the web-cam, it looks utterly deadly even now. Credit to the instructors who persevered at the event. For me it was a futile exercise as I cannot learn anything on the ring when the foremost thought in my mind is to not die. By the time I left the Ring at 10.30am, there had already been 3significant car casualties.

I’m bitter. Whilst UK weather was scorching for the first time in god knows how long, I spent it like a loser on my own in a strange German B&B peering out of the window as it was pounded on by horizontal rain drops wondering what the Jesus tap dancing Christ I’m doing here.

Don’t finish the box of chocolates in one go folks.

I asked to speak to the dealer principle as I wasn’t prepared to be fed some low level bullcrap by some part time sales trainee who’s mate had a 40,000 HP GTR from a superchip he collected out of a cornflakes packet.

Unfortunately, the dealer principle was not in today, so I was given his phone number which went direct to the voicemail of the person in charge of Brand and Marketing.

Credit to her, I was given a call back later that afternoon. Having described my position as owner of the GTR Register and founding member of the GTR Owners Club, I was then privvy to a collection of glaring errors and dangerous assumptions.

Apparently, the GTR stopped production over 10 years ago (actually, in 2002) and was only sold in a dozen dealerships (actually only one). I was since promised a phonecall but I still have no faith in them as a dealership.

This is Nissan’s biggest problem with the GTR. They currently do not have the capability to migrate into selling a 70k supercar in the same dealership that _shifts Micras day in day out. If they are to succeed, then a splinter organisation must occur, similar to that of BMW and Mini, or Lexus and Toyota, which will allow buyers such as myself to develop confindence enough to walk in with a £10,000 deposit knowing we’ll get the aftersales to match.

Allegedly, 3 orders have already been placed with a £5,000 deposit and they anticipate themselves being a dealership with franchise permissions enough to sell the GTR. Contradictory it seems as conflicting reports indicate no other dealers are taking orders as yet.

Rewind to 2nd January and I’m at the dealers collecting my car. As a New Year’s present, you can’t top a brand new GT3. I’d had an order down for the car for nigh on three years and my anticipation leading up to collection had been borderline delirium. Since collection, the last three weeks have largely been snapshots of memories from one intense moment to another as I try to compile some order to my recent experiences.

I’m sure we’ve all been spoilt with news of how the 997 GT3 has become a creature comfort tool. Don’t let recent stories of compromise delude you; this is still a very focused car. I’ve gone for the extreme end of the spec with carbon buckets (which are superb and maintain comfort and rigidity in equal measure) and the club sport pack (rear roll cage, harnesses and other trackside toys). Both of these add an air of menace to what appears to be Porsche’s attempt to bring the interior of the 997 into the 21st century. It’s a mighty fine job as my 996GT3RS had an appallingly bland, albeit functional, interior.

The damper button has been utterly useless on UK roads – I’ve booked three track days so I’ll reserve judgement on this until then.

My favourite feature is definitely the loud button that they’ve ingenuously marked as ‘Sport’. It does two things. It relaxes the traction control without turning it off, but most importantly, it opens a valve in the exhaust that turns the car into an operatic sequence of gearshifts. Recent Porsches rarely sound great – they sound menacing and gruff, but vocally they’re devoid of music. I’m happy to say that it has been rightly addressed as this car now displays an addictive array of notes that has you hitting 8200rpm at every opportunity. It’s challenging when you’ve only got 12 points to play with as it is a massive exercise in self-control, but it really does present itself as an excellent excuse to nail the throttle at every opportunity. In fact, I’ve often been told to slow down by people in other cars when I’m comfortably within the speed limit. Two weeks ago, a businessman came running up to my window and cried foul as he adamantly tried to warn me against speeding beside his office again. I had hit an almighty 27MPH.

There appears to be an incredible cohesion about the car, starting from the banshee power plant, right down to the hi-tech tyres that display supernatural levels of grip and traction. With reports already about owners having to replace these tyres after four thousand miles, you can see why. The soft compound Cups make for reassuring driving in all conditions, but a recent drive across torrential rain gave me a moment that terrified and dazzled in equal measure. At about 85MPH I hit some standing water on the M25 and before I knew it, my backside shook so violently, I’d have immediately qualified as a hip-hop groupie. The car soon regained composure and whether that was because of my frantic corrective gestures, or the benign nature of the car is a point of contention. Regardless, the comical disparity and contradiction of Vivaldi through my optional Sound Package Plus system as I screamed Holy Mary Mother of God was as direct a lesson in the limits of the tyres as I can imagine. I’ve since learned to avoid puddles.

The ’sling-shot’ is ever more pronounced in the 997GT3 though, with fast in, faster out being the apex approach of choice. There’s still an incredibly rewarding process of nailing the throttle just on the exit to a bend and witnessing an experience only possible in a rear engine, rear wheel drive car. As a meteor skims orbit, the GT3 is catapulted out of the corner with ferocious vigour.

The engine, too, is a diamond with a breadth of ability that demonstrates a diverse range of talents, from the low down, no quibble pick up, straight up and beyond to the deliciously intoxicating scream at the top end. It takes a while for you to remember that when your natural reaction to shift up presents itself, you’ve actually got another 2000 revs to use. Get into the flow of using the whole range and you’ll learn to enjoy the relentless urge as the car picks up its torrent of revs in a remarkably consistent and obstinate fashion.

The only option I’ve skipped is the carbon ceramic brakes. I’m still unsure as to whether this was a right decision, but with £5k replacement costs, that’s 10 times the cost of steel equivalents and at the end of the day, it just comes down to whether you can afford them or not.

It’s Sunday evening, about 6pm and I decide to take the car out for a drive. I punch in some random town names in the amazing sat-nav, uncheck the ‘motorways’ box and select ’shortest route’ to guarantee some traffic free A and B roads. What followed were six hours of sheer drama. With freezing cold temperatures outside, my windows fully open (sound is amplified from the engine and exhaust) and my heater on maximum attack, the experience is one I have not had in many years. As I rolled back into my garage at 1am, having covered four counties and over a tank and a half of fuel, I felt exhausted as an entire evening of hard-wired adrenaline started to catch up with me. Ears ringing from almost 300 miles of flat six pounding on my lobes, I collapsed onto my bed as thoughts of fluidity, traction and sheer capability drilled into my consciousness kept me awake for many hours. It was surely one of the most electric drives I’d experienced in a long time.

This is not a car for the faint hearted. Focus, concentrate and you are rewarded with driving pleasures that hark back to the time before speed cameras and Livingstone.

As I throw my thoughts into words, it pleases me to find difficulties in establishing negatives. I guess this honeymoon period is set to last!

Cem Kocu – Jan 2007

I really hope it comes out well, it’s totally different forcing words out instead of letting them flow when you’ve really got something nice to say. Some of my best posts have been as a result of emotional events that have me typing ’til my fingers bleed.

[EDIT - here's the full article I posted]

Well, it’s been over a thousand miles now and to be honest, I’ve been a little anxious about this milestone. You see, having picked the car up 2nd January this year, the last four weeks can largely be described as my “honeymoon” period. Ownership during this time can have a warped sense of subjectivity about them. You are utterly blind to any negativity, you allow yourself to be flattered by every minor instance with the car and coming up with new excuses to ‘pop out’ slowly becomes an increasingly challenging task. As a result, you become so enamoured by its every ability, you become unable to entertain the notion of a negative thought. Now that my 1000 miles are complete, are the rose tints in my spectacles of a different colour?

As I throw my thoughts into words, I’m still having difficulties establishing negatives. I guess this honeymoon period is set to last!

I’m getting a bit tired of it now though. Yes, Windows is more prone to exploitation, but that’s probably because there are 14 trillion Windows PC’s out there versus about 34 Macs. I know, I own both systems.

Vista is gorgeous, it really is. It’s a functionally superior system so far, but I’m so annoyed by the lack of support by third party vendors, I’m incensed we’re expected to do all their legroom – we’re not guinnea pigs!

I plugged my Western Digital My Book in today, all 500GB of it. Didn’t work. WD’s statement?

“Western Digital does not provide technical support or drivers for our products installed under Windows Vista at this time. We will be releasing updated software utilities and drivers for selective Western Digital products in the near future.”

Yeah, coz you’ve only had 12 months to prepare for this.

Then there’s my iPod. I installed iTunes (fresh download), connected my 80gb Video iPod to it and was greeted with a message which asked me to format and reinstall all my music. Fine I said. Except when it zapped my iPod and lost all the data, it refused to transfer all the files across. The Apple statement?

“iTunes 7.0.2 may work with Windows Vista on many typical PCs. Apple recommends, however, that customers wait to upgrade Windows until after the next release of iTunes which will be available in the next few weeks. This document will be updated as more information becomes available.”

Way to go Apple. How aboute telling me BEFORE I installed your junkware?

And the list just goes on. And on. And on. And I don’t blame Microsoft for this, it all appears to be a conspiracy to dethrone Microsoft by giving it enough rope.

Why haven’t all the third party hardware and software developers got their fingers on their pulses and provided us with upto date support and drivers?

I have found red mist an unavoidable toxin when behind the wheel of a car such as the GT3. The exhaust note, for example, has been engineered in such a way that the point of most amusement is hidden high up in the rev range. What does this mean? Well, for a start, I’m finding myself in pursuit of that magical note, the wail, the banshee howl – but hearing it once only beckons the next. So, like a sick, helpless addict, all subsequent upshifts place me back at the base of my predicament, chasing the exhaust note. Before I know it, I am deep into the middle of the speedo and were it not for my inherent fear (both for license and for my life), I’d be blurring that line between reality and fantasy. Anybody who has watched Animatrix – World Record, will understand what I mean, specifically the scene where he discovers the matrix by pure luck, sheer focus and willpower.

Car firmly tucked into its abode, I am struck by thoughts of recklessness, whilst flashbacks of crazy manoeuvres plague my thoughts. I am an avid XBOX 360 player and the correlation between TV and the road can be shockingly indistinguishable during moments of adrenaline.

I have made a silent promise to ensure enthusiastic driving is kept to the track. And France.

]]> http://www.blowdog.com/musings/north-circular-in-high-resolution/feed/ 0 http://www.blowdog.com/musings/frank-miller-does-me-proud/ http://www.blowdog.com/musings/frank-miller-does-me-proud/#comments Thu, 11 Jan 2007 18:21:18 +0000 BlowDog http://www.blowdog.com/?p=319 http://300themovie.warnerbros.com/

Great site, tantalisingly exciting trailer and typically otherworldly visuals that should signify any film involved with Frank Miller.

The story is beautiful as is the book so I’m hoping to see great things. Frank does not appear to be involved with the direction but has been credited as a producer. Wallpaper added already…

Hope there aren’t any bugs anywhere, still got some W3C validation issues, but other than that if you find anything problematic, please lemme know.

You can do one of three things now:

1. Fill in the form (NIP) send them £60 and your licence and try and forget about it (until next time) (the one they want you to do)
2. In the case of a GATSO, you could smash it up with a JCB or hang a tyre around it and burn it down. You might feel better, but you’ve still got to pay the £60 and take the three points (and we couldn’t condone such an act could we) or…
3. You could trundle over to http://www.pepipoo.com/ and start finding out what you can LEGALLY do to fight the system.

What’s more, you may well discover that you were never breaking the law in the first place !!!

Some of you are saying “But you had great fun!” and yes, indeed I did. But when you’re promised a reimbursement of over £2500 of expenses and you get £200, you kinda feel a little fucked. I could go on, suffice to say that our relationship is severed thanks to the almost comical professionalism employed by Traffic. Screw you and I hope you’ll be in need of help soon as I’m keen to deny.

On 2002-07-16 at 17:27:19,
The following information was submitted:
From Host: 80.40.42.178

name = A.Reader
comments = Excellent site mate. However, hall of shame? A £40k ish import R34 does not automatically include you as having ‘the means’ to afford a £100k+ Porsche. Just my honest opinion. Keep up the good work
submit_by = anon@nowhere.com

—– Original Message —–

From: “Blowdog.com”
To:
Subject: Re: Enquiry From Website
Date: 16 July 2002 19:56

Hello A. Reader,

Thanks for the comments/sentiments.

I will, however, disagree somewhat with your opinion (what a boring place it would be if we were all right).

Understanding that I may not be able to afford a £120k Porsche right now, the fact that I won’t either be:

a) A future potential buyer or
b) Interested in other automobiles in his garage

is a naive and reckless attitude IMHO. Regardless, I am well keen on the GT class Porsche and have it firmly set in my sights. I could also have been a powerful pawn in his marketing campaign, for gtr.co.uk and blowdog.com reach far and wide into the pc’s of the rich and poor.

Regards,

CemK

Any information regarding the concept GTR, which he was also responsible for, or the continuation of the pedigree that is the Skyline was left under tight wraps. Rest assured though, I’ve been convinced that we are in for something very special.

The 21:51 Eurotunnel tickets bought, I made my way with 3 other cars towards the Folkestone terminal to meet with the other 4 cars. An hour ahead of schedule, rough plans were made dictating where within France we would head towards. With 8 hours at our disposal, time was on our side. We didn’t need to be back until 08:00 the following morning. Fortunately for most of us, we had passengers to help with not only the navigation, but also assist with photography, warming the RedBulls and providing a soundtrack to the sound of snoring. Being a driver in such exciting times means the adrenaline is constantly pumping and the heart is in overdrive. Fatigue during this instance is practically non-existent, so although the body may be tired, the mind is always alert and sharp.

4 Subaru Imprezas, 2 Skyline R34s and an Evo 6 meant a good balance of cars. It was alleged, however, that if we were to have travelled to the German Autobahns, speeds of 180MPH would have been reached with comfortable cruising speeds of 120-130MPH. Imprezas and Evos find that kind of pace uncomfortable, however. For their short gearing and light bodyshells make such progress not only painfully loud, but harsh on the engine also, for you find yourself constantly near the redline. In the Skyline, you enter an alternative reality. 6 gears and vast roadholding and ride mean a stable and comfortable ride which makes 130-140mph child’s play. But you must be careful, for with ease comes complacency. With supposed straights that initially seem to last forever, flashing past with incredible frequency, it becomes an art form to judge where and when this kind of driving is suitable. Thankfully for us, the roads were utterly bereft of both hazard and traffic.

But all that was the way there, for on the way back, we ventured off the ill-lit motorways and enjoyed some of the best country roads I’ve seen. The quaintness and petite nature of the villages demands respect, so peaceful was the ambience the thought of 7 brutal Japanese cars tearing through the neighbourhood was a restrained exercise. Not in Le Havre though. An old, decrepit industrial town totally bereft of character meant a no holds barred approach to tunnels, for there were many to enjoy, not least the one that lasted a kilometre.

Fuel is scarce in N France. Especially good fuel. This recce provided us with invaluable information, the kind we will all benefit from in the near future.

A 10 out of 10 event.

(high speed runs were conducted on the German autobahns)

Pictures here

Edit – Email received:

From:

To:
Subject: Enquiry From Website
Date: 12 May 2002 19:58
On 2002-05-12 at 19:06:00,
The following information was submitted:
From Host: XXXXXXXX
name = PePe lePeu
comments = British drivers! I was driving round happily in my black golf sur mon historic coastal home town, on the French coast when the most unbelievable thing happened. I was just showing the wife and bebe how to take a racing line across a Give Way sign when no less than 1800bhp of British owned Japanese sportscars decided to cut across my very path!!! This made me very angry, VERY VERY ANGRY!! I discussed this with my wife and we decided that French rule means we have priority over any other car on the road especially when p*ssed at 3 in the morning – Jean-Pierre, despite being 4 and a half – agreed wholeheartedly. Imagine our COMPLETE disgust when, upon being confronted by us jumping up and down in the street like a coupe of coke snorting baboons the British drivers simply drove round us! Ooooh, we were fuming. We see you British on television at your football games so expected at the very least a good pasting. We were most disappointed and rung ahead to cousins in the French International darts team to hold up the silly British drivers whilst we caught them up with Grand-pere Claud’s shotgun… We’re still looking for them…submit_by = pepe@dubbsnet.com

Pushing approximately 520BHP, it was a staggering lesson to me. I never thought a car could feel so different than mine and where the same clothes. In the world of Skylines, 520BHP is amazingly still average, when stuck on the global tuning ladder. Consider, however, that my car is a measly 400BHP, and the differences become a lot clearer. No driveability was lost with a manic rush to the red line on every gear change. So intense was each ratio, that in 2nd, I regrettably hit the rev limiter, so unawares was I of the speed we had reached in such a short time. And this is without the scramble mode switched on (a temporary increase in boost pressure, call in an afterburner, if you will).

I left dazed and confused. Again. Here I was, only a month or so after I installed the Mines ECU, only to find myself in this pitiful state of lust and wanting. That roof renovation project is just going to have to wait.

How bitter London City life makes me….

I have a tale to tell, of such epic, and ground breaking proportion,y ou will quite possibly wet yourself.
Oh yes, a story of morality, of seeking the light and indeed, the truth. Are we sitting comfortably?

Then I’ll begin…

There once was a man. Let us presume he was middle aged-ish, quite probably in a successful and
comfortable place of employment. Wife, Mistress and three kiddywinkles all in tow. What could he
possibly want or need more in life?

A Beemer, d’uh.

And so, as the end of the year 2001, came to an ever-looming end, what better way to further prove
his manhood and extreme status, but by purchasing his lovely, stunning, style marginally above
substance, 3-series. The man is quite clearly, God. Well, ish.

The figure hugging seats, the rather clever electrical gubbins keeping him safe from all possible
dangers. This is one car, that did not make his quite considerable arse, look big. And all was well.

In gleaming Azure Blue (Some may have said Estoril, but it’s my story, and if I wish to make
glaring errors, then I shall!), he did roam. Up hill and down dale, when weather permitted of course.
Wouldn’t want to get some of that nasty mudsplash on his lovely, gleaming, all singing, all dancing
automobile.

After a few thousand miles of his luxury German-ness, it came to be that he would in fact, be travelling
along the A417 Cheltenham/Swindon road, mere minutes before I would witness the scenes that will
ultimately form the not entirely hilarious punchline of this very same story.

Let us say he was speeding (at least a few hundred miles per hour.) perhaps randomly changing lanes
without signalling, cutting up a few HGV’s on his merry way. All in a day’s work.

And then, what is this before him?! Could it be?! Surely not?! Yes! It is! It’s the slightest bend in the road
you could ever possibly imagine. Mere single figure degrees, barely even a slight camber.

Oh dear.

And as myself, as a perfect law abiding Nissan driver cruised past at Sixty Nine Point Nine, A quick
glance to my left to see what used to be a very pretty little blue car, embedded in the armco at the side
of the road. From the looks of things, The car had spun 170-180 degrees or so, leaving the front
drivers side nicely crumpled into the barrier and verge of this ever so tricky section of dual carriageway.

The reasoning behind this tragic event? The police wouldn’t like to say, nor would the driver, our good
friend and confidant, with the flourishing place of employment, the wife, the mistress and the three
delightful children, would even dare to admit the error of his ways.

May I reveal the truth behind the story, as I believe we all know to be true.

In the vague twilight of the early evening, the daylight ever so slightly waning, our friend had indeed
been travelling at a bazillion miles per second along the A417 Cheltenham to Swindon, he had indeed
randomly flicked between one lane and the other, and he had indeed enraged several artic drivers
(Big trucks, not eskimos.) along his way.

And here, at this very point in time, and most likely space too, The governing laws of the universe layeth’d
down their rule.

The ever so slight change of direction, the barely even worth noting camber, and the glaring fact that he’d
forgotten to flick the switch labelled ‘prat’ that engaged the blinding glare of his ‘driving lamps’.

The sweeping round went unnoticed.

The adverse camber, it was not known.

He could not see, how was he supposed to miss the side of the road, lit up with huge overpass-style
street lamps?! The tragedy! The horror! The sheer wankerishness of it all! How could it be!…

Only.

If only.

Sigh.
Mr M.Â

WITHOUT PREJUDICE

East London area, around 9.30pm. Evo Mak cruises past what seems to be a harmless black Golf GTI only to be undertaken by the same vehicle just before a junction. The windows of the mak are wound down fully. The passenger (James) looks to his right to be greeted by a huge bald bloke (bouncer, pimp…you name it) leaning over and smiling at the big red car that has pulled up along side him. Passenger slowly moves head backwards so eye contact is no longer made. Cem remains with his eyes front but the frantic nodding and aggressive energy spewing out of the golf causes him to turn his head, the following conversation and events now takes place. Remember to read the northern nutters dialogue extremely fast, extremely aggressively, extremely loud and with an extreme northern accent.

Northern Nut: That’s a nice looking car like
Cem: *smiles and nods*
Northern Nut: What size engine is that like?
Cem: it’s a two litre
Northern Nut: What’s the 0-60 on that like?
Cem: Well it is about 4 seconds
Northern Nut: *screams* 3 SECANS LIKE?
Cem: um no, 4 seconds
Northern Nut: Ah pretty fast then, it must be chipped to fook then like
Cem: *puts the pedal to the metal and leaves the northern nut for dust*
Northern Nut: *wheel spins massively and proceeds to follow the Mak which is disappearing into the distance*
Cem: Look at that nutter, he is right up my back side *touches the brake before taking a gentle right hander at break neck speed before exiting the corner to the sound of the engine roaring up to 7250 rpm propelling the Mak miles ahead once again*
Northern Nutter: *takes corner at a ridiculous speed in his GTI, must of been on the edge, drives right up the Maks backside again before lurching alongside* Your brakes are struggling a bit there like, chucking fire and stuff out
Cem: yeah they do that, competition spec brakes.
Northern Nutter: The thing is like, my car was designed to go fast *lurches off at a pathetic speed before having it round a left hand corner at about 110mph scaring his lady of the night girlfriend into even more of a nervous wreck than she was before*

Scary, northern guys are very scary

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