[s-cars] why hate Frederic... when you can hate ME? Road report, NAC, of course...

[Krasusky Paul (WQQ2PXK)]

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Afternoon, Gents-

Well, Ma Nature finally allowed for some after-work evening silliness that's
been brewing for some time here now.  A few of you are already aware of the
"riduculousfactor" that will be included below.

Do we all hate Frederic for his MTM RS6 adventure?  Sure.  Will you hate me
worse?  Er, possibly...

My bud Brian with the //SFest F355S that I got to flog around last year
recently made a new acquisition.  Soooooooo, what is piloting an, oh, '03
Porsche GT2 like?  NOT around the block, but at, er, uh, 155mph?  Read on,
if you'd like to hear about it (long, but hope you enjoy!).  Brace yourself:




What's it like?  In a word?  ADRENALINE.

A number of my localidiotcarfriends converged at my place LATE last night...
2 neu //S4s, E46 ///M3, WRX, and a 500E.  Gawking wasn't on the agenda, we'd
taken care of that weeks ago when he got it, fondling it appropriately.  For
the record, Basalt Black / black gut.  Embossed crests on headrests,
alcantara headliner, aluminum kickplates/shifter/ebrake/gauges, yellow belts
to match the yellow calipers, ceramic brakes, GT2 embroidered where the rear
seat would be, etc.

DAMN is this thing simply void of f'n color!  All the black grilles,
intakes, etc. vanish.  Gone.  First thing that comes to mind is BATMOBILE,
and that's not a bad thing.  This thing is the absolute ABSENSE of friggin
light.  Even seems to suck in some of the light surrounding it.  Black hole
comes to mind.  So does Darth F'n Vader.

Start her up, she erupts to a nice boxer burble after your typical
Porsche-starter sound, which I've always dug.  Clutch is heavy, but
engagement is rather simple.  Warm it up for a few, we caravan down the road
a bit to the on ramp, I'm last in line.  As we get on, one by one, they each
begin to walk away up the ramp.  Time for the loud pedal.

WHOA!  Muther F'er is this thing downright violently outrageously f'n fast.
OK, you assumed that.  But oh nelly, not THIS fast.  It's silly.  Your brain
struggles to keep up with the activity.  Rear end squatstheFdown, nose tips
up, and steering gets rather light, twitchy.  OK, very twitchy!  Go for a
quick speedo glance, can't read it!  Notice the easy to read digital
readout, NOW I understand the need for that.  My friends go by me in
reverse, each at their respective redlines, butofcourse.  Cruising in 5th,
you wonder why there's a 6th...

Then you mash it in 5th...  acceleration akin to that of FIRST GEAR in my
f'n car!  Holy f'n SCHNIKIES!  Your satchel begins to creep on up inside for
protection, meanwhile every ounce of concentration is commanded.  Hitting
6th, you wonder if NASA had a hand in development, as you're heading for the
flippin moon.  And the sound.  Whoamomma, intake snarl, burblebrap city,
galore.  It's nice and loud at full song.  OK, full wail...

Exit ramp comes, downshits with matched revs are very rewarding.  Ah the
sound.  Brakes?  WTF?!?!  99% zero dive, and you S_T_O_P.  That's it, no
fuss.  Now for some fun.  1st gear, nice and warm, let her launch, expecting
some bakeage of the rears.  Nope.  Hooks righttheFup.  1st is virtually a
sneeze.  Ah CHOO, limiter is smacked in negative 2 seconds, slap 2nd, expect
some chirp / wag / etc.  Nope.  Guess baking 18x12 315s taint that simple.
3rd, and things are now really happening all around you.  The scenery, the
road, the cacophony of f'n madness behind you.  Oddly enough, no notable
turbo noise, at all.  Must be drowned by intake / exhaust howl.

We loop around, back on the highway, and head for his place in roughly the
same fashion.  Return trip affords a bit more opportunity to 'stretch'.  One
Five Five, whoops, and I has to exit.  Damn.  Not an easy 1-5-5, either.
Well, easy to get there, in a hurry, but LOTS of commotion going on.
Steering input, suspension feedback, etc., this ain't no kittycat, uh uh.
I've not even scratched the surface of potential here yet.  Go through one
lane brownstone tunnel from stop in 1st.  YEOW, you psyche ducks for cover
as the brappety shrill encompasses.

Drop off the toy and pick up the '94 E500 Euro Limited to head back to my
place.  My turn again?  OOOOOOOOOKaaaaaaaaaaay.  No replacement for
displacement, that thing boogies.  Hunkers down and GOES.  Funny thing is
140, which came nice and quick, felt literally like a Sunday stroll to
church with grandma.  So composed, so unfettered in comparison...  GT2?
Raw.  Visceral.  Brutal.  Ballistic.  F'n MENTAL.

Best part was the last thing he said to me before he left my place.
"Doooooood.  You GOTTA drive the GT2 again."  OOOOOOOOooooKaaaaaaaay!  Then,
even better!  "Dooood.  We got to drive this back to back with the F355,
then together side to side, then switch.  Next week."
OOOOooooooooooooooKaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay...

I'm sorry.  Couldn't stand to sit and let poor Frederic garner all the bad
love here.  Try not to hate me too badly now 8-).

Hope you enjoyed.  I did!

-Paulie Corruptforlife
CT home of insanity
'95 Not a GT2
'58 Not an F355S