The snow outside is probably going to stick. The salt trucks are out here in Minnesota. The road and cars are covered with the white dust the county lays out on the road to keep us all from freezing to death in a ditch. This means my ‘72 911 is tucked safely away in the garage. I didn’t even have a chance to take it out one last time.
Winter rolled in more swiftly than usual this year, once again putting motoring itself in extended stasis.
From time to time, our friend Kris Clewell pops in, offering a new piece, opinion, or sometimes, just a glimpse of the latest through his lens. As one of the community’s opinionated “free thinkers,” his voice is always welcomed, if not always seen eye-to-eye. Coming from the age of magazine journalism, Kris has watched as the industry changed and evolved, doing his best to stay true to himself and his community.
I first laid eyes on this Albert Blue 911 at the annual HAWK event held at the historic Road America circuit. It was tucked neatly away under a tent Accumoto had set up to support its race crew. Pedestrians circled it with their thumbs on their chin, the knowledgeable ones picking out the subtle details that separated the car from “just another early 911.
The word “craftsman” is thrown around casually in today’s society. It’s stamped on tools and used all over television. Things are processed and assembled at a furious rate as manufacturers race their competitors to the bottom line. There is a whole generation wandering aimlessly through alleys of mediocrity built by a culture of that expediency.
I am sitting in my hotel room right now, thinking about tomorrow, and wondering to myself: “how hard is it going to be to drive a 425hp car, that I’ve never driven before, at Road America (in the wet)… a legendary track that’s made for men with much more talent to run out of than I’ve got to give.” I’ve only balled up a car by my own mistake once.