I've always had a British car. In the 60s and 70s I had a TR4 and
lately I've owned an MG or two. A friend with whom I used to rally
had a Porsche 911.
Once upon a time, while laying out a rally with my friend driving
his 911, a vehicle came up close behind our car and followed there
for some distance.
My friend, whose name was Bob, said that he had to shake the man
behind us, whereupon he downshifted into 4th gear. I felt the 911
surge ahead and saw the needle on the tachometer begin climbing,
albeit rather slowly.
A mile or two further on Bob said, "He's still there!" I noticed
that sweat was appearing on Bob's forehead and he downshifted into
4th gear again. This time the tachometer rose in a swift arc to
6,000 rpm or so.
We blasted along for about half a mile and he shifted up into 5th
and relaxed the frenzied pace at which we had begun to move. Bob
had given up.
A blue blur began to pass us on the left and I expected to see a
Ferrari or maybe an XKE V-12. Whatever it was was surely the
fastest car in the world.
What shot by was a pickup truck with West Virginia license plates.
|