Atlanta and Autocross

So, the highlight of my time in Atlanta was definitely the Autocross competition in Marietta hosted by the Peachstate Region PCA.  I met up with Eric, my instructor from the Porsche driving school, and his daughter Erica, who was driving his GT3 and also a first timer.  Probably because we had the best, most accomplished coach out there, we both won our classes easily.  Now, Eric says a win is a win, but being the compulsively honest young lady that I am, I feel the need to clarify that the classes were broken out by gender and I actually heard a woman in my class saying (on the subject of taping her number to her car) "sug, I think a couple pieces of tape is fine . . . I'm not really gonna be drivin' all that fast."  So, it didn't really feel like a win because women never go as fast as I do, so the fact that I was going to win my class was kind of a given.  I once tried to explain this need for speed that most women lack to a fuming lady roadbiking companion whom I left behind with the wife of a guy I took off with on a group ride one day.  Oh, I was in so much trouble . . . my only defenses were "he said his wife had his cell phone number and would call if you guys had any issues" and "but I like to go fast . . ."  At any rate, lumped in with the guys, I was right in the middle of all these guys who have been doing this for years, so I think that was a solid first showing.  

As for the rest of my time in Atlanta, Saturday I hit the dogwood festival in Piedmont Park, which I'm sure I would have loved if I had a greater appreciation for mobs, screaming babies, tantrum throwing children and deep fried pickles.  I will say that I was really impressed with all the great craftsmen, you just don't see such talented craftsmen at fairs/festivals in the northeast, so I collected several cards along the way in case I ever need to furnish a house with beautiful things.  Then Saturday night I ventured out to a lesbian bar, but didn't last long.  As soon as some awkward woman tried to hit on me after staring at the side of my face for 10 minutes, I took off.  That'll teach 'em.

Reminded me of a time when I was out at a bar on Wall St with a woman I was hooking up with at my firm and these two awkward guys just kept staring at us for about an hour even though we were completely ignoring them.  They eventually came over (I'm not making this up) with a plate of wings, introduced themselves and asked if we wanted to share their wings.  We finally had to acknowledge them, so the girl I was with introduced herself as "Melissa" (not remotely her name) and declined the offer, explaining that she was a vegetarian (which she wasn't).  Leave the girls who are not remotely interested in you alone? No, no, that's crazy talk.  Instead we got, "well maybe we can just join you while we eat our wings."  To which my new vegetarian friend Melissa responded, "actually just the smell of meat makes me really nauseous, like right now I'm getting kind of sick just because you are holding them there."  She was good . . . After a painful minute of them standing there nodding in silence trying to come up with their next line, they finally retreated to the bar where they proceeded to stare at us until we left.  Well played, Melissa, well played.

Headed to Montgomery, AL later today (and for those of you who have thoughtfully pointed out that my itinerary makes no sense, it's because I had to beeline straight to Birmingham to be there in time for the Porsche driving school), then onto Jackson and Biloxi, where a friend from New Orleans has assured me that I can get a pint size glass of bourbon brought right out to my car window by a beautiful woman for $2.50.  If I never leave Biloxi, it's because my friend was telling the truth.

For those of you who asked about my favorite part of the drive so far, that would have to be Rt. 13, the Coastal Highway between Ocean City and Norfolk, those bridges over the Chesapeake Bay are breathtaking, even better than the drive to Key West in my opinion.

Eric, Erica and Eric's 2010 GT3

Out of the sea of Porsches, Eric's GT3 was definitely the sexiest car there, though the Ford GT I tweeted a picture of was a close second for sexiest car in the lot.

Hot and Hot Fish Club and the Porsche Sport Driving School

Ah, Birmingham. I hardly knew yee . . . but my god, I had a good time.  As promised, as soon as I finished my post Wednesday night, I headed out to find Hot and Hot.  As I was walking in, I was pretty sure I saw Chris Hastings (recently nominated for the Best Chef in the South Award by the James Beard Foundation) standing out in the parking lot, so I went over and introduced myself and explained who had sent me.  The next thing I knew I was seated at the chef's counter watching six to eight more junior chefs running around in a perfectly orchestrated frenzy and Chris was standing next to me asking me what I was looking for out of this meal so he could prepare a special tasting menu for me.  I will recap the end result briefly for the foodies:  (1) lobster bisque with asparagus flan (w/ Henriot Brut Champagne); (2) local wild watercress salad with trumpet mushrooms, Louisiana crawfish, Benton's country ham and a lemon vinaigrette (w/ '08 Les Boucauds Sancerre); (3) seared flounder with spring vegetable quinoa, garden frisee and a blood orange vinaigrette (w/ '08 Honig Sauvignon Blanc); (4) braised mississippi rabbit with spring vegetable ragout, homemade gnocchi and rich jus (w/ '07 Adelsheim Pinot Noir); (5) pork trio (w/ the pork coming from Fudge Farms in Madison, AL)-loin with pea salad, leg with sweet potatoes and belly with collard greens and balsamic glaze (w/ '06 Valle Perdido Reserve Malbec); (6) local cheeses (w/ '08 Saint Cosme Cotes du Rhone); (7) panna cotta with fresh berries (w/ Donnafugata Passito Di Pantelleria-forget the year, but a fabulous dessert wine from a volcanic island off the coast of Sicily).  Added bonus-I was still able to get up and walk out of the restaurant when it was all over, shocking, but true.

Over the course of my meal, I kept noticing people checking me out and the guy sitting next to me sneaking a peek whenever the chefs referred to "the VIP."  Finally, he leaned over and said, "I just have to know, are you some big food writer?" "No," I explained, "I just had a night of drunken debauchery with some of Chris's old friends in Charleston last night and here I am."  "Huh," he said, "must have been quite a night." And how. I have to say this was a phenomenal evening and after talking to Chris about everything from how important he believes it is to keep things local, to the hand-thrown pottery (made in Leeds, AL that he helps design with the potter), to how many celebrity chefs have made it all about their egos instead of the food, I cannot say enough about Chris, his vision and his restaurant.  If you are ever within 200 miles of Birmingham, you should not miss the opportunity to eat here.

As for the driving school, it's just something you have to experience, so I won't even try to write about everything I learned, though my tweets will give you a good idea of the paces they put you through and the incredibly thorough training you get here.  A few helpful tips I will pass on: (1) a little braking, even just touching the brake pedal (or jumping off the throttle), will help you execute a turn better because it transfers weight to the front of the car and the front wheels that do the turning, (2) (for the kids who drive stick) don't pull your parking brake when you park if your brakes are really hot, just put it in gear instead so you don't warp the drum, and (3) "when in doubt, brake like hell" (i.e. when everything we learned about regaining control in an understeer or oversteer situation doesn't work and you realize that there is no way you can save yourself, slam on the brakes as fast and as hard as you possibly can).

Arrived in Atlanta last night, off to check out the dogwood festival this afternoon, then joining one of my instructors from the school at an autocross event (my first) outside Atlanta tomorrow.  Will let you know how it turns out.  My goal is to finish without wrecking my car or killing any spectators.

(Replica) Porsche 550 Spyder (aka "the Giant Killer"), 145hp 4 speed manual, produced from 1953-1956.  The next evolution of the model, the 550A, gave Porsche its first overall win in a major sports racing event, the 1956 Targa Florio.

Off-roading in a Cayenne S, then hit the track (which was highly technical with all kinds of tricky corners and curves) in a Cayenne turbo and did the same time we were doing in Carrera Ss.  As one instructor put it, these cars are "ridiculously over-engineered for what most people do with them." 

A pack of Carrera Ss trying to chase down the instructor out front in the Turbo. Good times.

Onto Atlanta . . . thinking how painfully slow 90 felt all the way.

Charleston to Birmingham and My Forum on Planet 9

First things first, I now have my own forum platform on Planet-9.com, the largest site out there for Cayman enthusiasts, at http://www.planet-9.com/driving-gusto/. Thanks, Ken!


What I do not have, sadly, are any pics to post since I left my camera battery and charger charging away as I charged out the door at the crack of dawn this morning after a banner night out in Charleston.  Hopefully, they will catch up with me here on Friday.  Until then, the pictures I tweet will just have to do.  Speaking of which, I visited the Barber Vintage Motorsports Museum today, which had some phenomenal cars, and I tweeted pics of some of the best specimens.  I start my two day performance driving course at the Porsche Sport Driving School tomorrow.  Be afraid, be very afraid, especially you obnoxious kids with the Carreras . . .


As for last night, I ended up at a little sushi place on King, sitting next to this incredibly nice guy who has a few restaurants/bars in Charleston and a friend who engineers Porsche brakes.  He was totally enthused about my trip and after giving me all kinds of great suggestions for restaurants I have to experience along the way, he ended up taking me to his fantastic bar, Closed for Business, so I could meet some of his friends, one of whom is the Chef de Cuisine at Fig, where I had an incredible dinner my first night in Charleston.  Every chef and other foodie there last night told me whatever I do, I absolutely must go to Hot and Hot Fish Club (where Chris Hastings is now) while I am in Birmingham. So, that is the plan for tonight.


On a side note, while I was listening to the CB driving here today, this trucker was telling a joke that starts, "what's the difference between a condom and a Kodak camera?" About 15 seconds later I had rocketed out of range, so I never heard the punchline. If anyone knows the punchline, please share. Only knowing half the joke is a slow kind of torture, especially a joke with such promise ;-)

Trouncing a Carrera en route from Beaufort to Charleston

Woke up in Beaufort in a bit of pain thinking we probably should have skipped the $14 bottle of “Champagne” we had at the last bar we hit.  Now, in our defense, purchasing a bottle of “Champagne” that cost more than $14 was not an option at this charming establishment.  After a 20 minute hunt for a place that sold coffee we could walk out the door with, we made a quick trip to the maritime museum in Beaufort where we learned that after Blackbeard barricaded the Charleston, SC harbor, he ran his ships aground just off Beaufort, marooned most of his men, then slipped away to Ocracoke where he was eventually hunted down and killed.  After the museum, we paid a guy $30 to take us to Shackleford Island in his Boston Whaler where we spent a couple hours trying to find the wild horses (Spanish mustangs) that are the descendants of horses that swam ashore 400 years ago after a shipwreck off the island.  Eventually we did and only suffered a few puncture wounds along the way.

Then it was off to Charleston, SC and not a minute too soon.  When two lanes merged into one as I was getting my plug baby set up and the result was a slow tractor trailer in front of us I actually said to E, “damn it, if I hadn’t been fiddlin’ ‘n’ diddlin’ we wouldn’t be stuck behind this guy right now.”  We immediately looked at each other in horror and I said what we were both thinking, “we need to get out of North Carolina, I’m starting to fit in,” to which E replied “um, yeah.”  Somewhere after we crossed into SC and passed our first 5 fireworks stores, a fairly obnoxious character in a burgundy carrera cabrio (I think an ’06) noticed us passing him, jumped off his call, pulled up to us at the next light and started revving his engine and staring at us to see if we were up for the challenge.  I am delighted to report that I trounced the guy and when I hit 70 and shifted into neutral to coast for a bit, he passed me laughing and shaking his head in shame. Das right. Respect the Cayman S fool. One and a half wins and counting . . . 

Artifacts from Blackbeard's Ship, Queen Anne's Revenge, at the maritime museum.

Most beautiful model boat I have ever seen. This is a model of a Menhaden boat, which used to be built in NC and used off the NC coast to fish for Menhaden.

Wild horses on Shackleford Island.

Made it to SC, and not a minute too soon. We were fresh out of fireworks . . .

Rehoboth Beach to Ocracoke

Started the day in Rehoboth Beach, DE, buzzed through Norfolk, VA to pick up my friend, E, at the Airport, then cruised the length of Cape Hatteras and now ending the day in Ocracoke, NC.  The attached pics are all from Cape Hatteras.  After a quick climb up and over the dunes to the beach, we continued on to the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, tallest lighthouse in the country.  On our way back to Rt 12 we got stuck crawling between two “Catfish trucks” as we like to call them (see pic).  Determined to get a picture of one of these trucks, I pulled in behind the one I was following when he pulled in for gas to ask if I could take a picture of his truck.  I asked E how she thought they’d respond, to which she replied, “um, I wouldn’t be totally surprised if they shoot you, but just try, why not . . . I’m gonna stay here though.”  Turns out, as soon as I opened my door, all the guys staring at us from the truck, put down their windows and starting shouting to me how great my car was.  I told them I was rather fond of their catfish truck as well.  After Scooter (see pic) showed me the cooler full of “blow toads” and mullets they caught that day, I told them about my trip.   They were very interested to know whether we were going to Gettysburg and whether we were into the civil war.  Regretfully, I had to confess that I had no plans to go to Gettysburg and was not particularly into the civil war.  Good day, time for a drink.

Black Audi R8 V10, license plate: Qtrax

So, I was cruising down Rt. 1 in Rehoboth Beach, DE this morning, en route to get some cards made up (because I am tired of writing the name of my blog on napkins for the ladies-one night of that foolishness was enough), when I noticed a black Audi R8 coming up behind me. The last comparison I read of a Cayman S v. the Audi R8 had the Cayman S beating the R8 in every department from handling to 0-60 to braking, but I think that was at the end of '08 or beginning of '09. At any rate, after following me through traffic for a while, this guy finally found a spot next to me and tried to take me on out of the light. Now, I was feeling good about my chances remembering this article I read and I did hold him off for a while, but then when I hit 75 in a 45 I backed off and let him shoot past me because I didn't want to kill anyone, then he backed off and I just hung right behind him waiting for a window of opportunity. That's when I saw the V10 and thought, oh, okay, forget it . . . See, the old R8 V8s only did 0-60 in 4.74, whereas my Cayman S does it in 4.5 (not that Porsche will admit that because they still want you to pay at least $20k more for a 911 that is not remotely as much fun to drive because it's so tail-heavy, and while many people will argue this point, I find that the ones that do so have never actually driven a '09 Cayman S and have absolutely no idea what they are missing). The revamped R8 engine options consist of a V8 that does 0-60 in 4.4 seconds, which would have made for a very close race, but the V10 supposedly does 0-60 in 3.9, so technically this guy should have easily crushed me instead of just catching me at 75 when I backed off.

But alas, he was clearly not a talented driver and when we hit the next cluster of traffic, I easily sliced through traffic with him trying to keep up with my maneuvers and falling farther and farther behind until I was a good 15-20 cars ahead of him at which point, I turned off Rt 1 to end our little real time comparison test because I had errands to do. I noticed his license plate was Qtrax and I'm thinking he is probably a founder or top executive at the company given the sticker price of that car. Funny about him being such a lame driver though, makes me think of all the partners at my old firm who have incredibly expensive sports cars, but drive them like scared little girls. I personally try to make my driving performance worthy of the car I am driving every time I get in it. If you can't handle a real car, don't buy one. On a related note, if you have a vanity plate, you are by definition pretty lame. In summary, Mr. Qtrax has two counts of lame against him, but gets half a win for having the faster car and I get the other half of that win for being the better driver and crossing the finish line first. Yes, indeed, half a win and counting . . . stay tuned.

Ready to Launch/Lessons #1 and #2

I hit the road tomorrow, so today I packed in a frenzy because I only gave myself two days of turn around time between traveling for two weeks and taking off on this trip. Now everyone said I would learn a lot about myself in the next few months because it's the first time I will have real downtime to reflect on my life in nearly a decade. I am delighted to report that today in the midst of my packing frenzy I had my first big revelation about myself-I am NOT "low maintenance" by any stretch of the imagination. For as long as I can remember, I have described myself as low maintenance and gently mocked the girls who needed three bags to go away for a romantic weekend or two hours to get ready for a night out. As someone who just spent the last three hours packing my "toiletries" culminating in a bathroom bag that takes up half my trunk space, I will never see myself as that lovable low maintenance tomboy ever again. I could not leave one of my three different shampoos behind, nor could I leave behind one of my two eye creams or two facial masks (one is for moisturizing and one is for refining pores-how could I just choose to not have supple skin or maybe worse, to have visible pores? which is worse? who can say?).

On a related note, while taking the train in to meet my only two friends who haven't been laid off yet at my old firm for a goodbye coffee, I was sitting next to a somewhat crazy gay boy who was going on and on to someone on the other end of the phone about how fantastic his life is now that he is no longer at the shelter because his "Puerto Rican Man" had taken him in. It wasn't long before he started describing their sexual escapades in detail ("and then at four o'clock we woke up and did it again! and THEN and six o'clock we got up and did it again! and THEN at eight o'clock . . ."-you get the picture). He had just started to give the exact dimensions of the Puerto Rican guy's little friend, when I started to pull myself up to move to another seat. Then suddenly his phone died and after swearing at it hysterically for about two minutes, he took a deep breath, turned to me and said, "Oh my god, your hair is gorgeous!" To which I muttered, "thanks," which, rather than shutting him down, sent him on a tangent about the "flawless" "windblown" look I had mastered, how I could be in an Armani ad, etc. Finally he asked me how I achieved my flawless windblown look and I had to give him the goods: "I toss and turn all night and then I don't shower in the morning." Happy? Are we done now? He replied without missing a beat, "I need to try that because giiiirl, you are gorgeous!"

So, maybe, really, I learned two lessons about myself before I even started my journey: Lesson #1-I am, in fact, wildly high maintenance (despite a lifetime of convincing myself and everyone around me how fabulously low maintenance I am); Lesson #2-There is really no need to be so high maintenance if I just surround myself with the right people . . .