Moving at a Rapid Pace Beyond Routine, Loving Life.................. 3/31/21

     The roaring 2021 379-horse-powered 911 Porsche Carrera (which goes from zero to 60 mph/96.6 kph in four seconds), and I reach the inter-section of Woodside Road and Skyline Blvd., known as State Route 35.  

      Who would first arrive at Highway 92, thirteen miles down the road? 

Our view on the right, looks upon the Bay Area from the Palo
 Alto hills. The horizontal silver stripe is the bay, not clouds.

      We con-tinued north along the Woodside hills. This summit road snakes the top of the San Francis-co Peninsu-la. Seven miles earlier, coming from the redwood tree-shrouded Palo Alto hills--we spied to the right the Bay Area sprawled 2,500- 3,000 feet below. 

     The panoramic view on the left revealed bucolic waves of redwood-tree forested valleys rippling to the Pacific Ocean. Our journey took place south of San Francisco.  

The leftward view 

      Our cars zoomed around turns twice the posted speed of 25-35 mph (56.32 kph), the G-force of my car shoved me backwards into the seat. I ignored the need for the bath-room at Alice's Restaurant. We passed it on the northwest corner. 

   This eatery provided the last pit stop for the next thirty-nine miles (62.76 km) and fifty minutes before reaching home. 

      The competitive challenge created a stronger urge than the physical inconvenience.  Not often are opportunities to test my roadster against an intimidating competitor.  We drove 80-90 mph (144. 84 kpm) on the last four miles, where less twisty parts of this highway posted a speed limit of 50 mph. 

       I rode thirty feet behind him, matching him turn for turn.  

            Yes, I was aggres-sive, not my usual self.  The other driv-er, however, under-stood my message: "Show me what you can do." 

     Last November, at the Sears Point race track, while taking performance driving

 /racing lessons, I hobnobbed with cars worth $200,000- $300,000 with more than 745 horsepower.

      Now, driving behind the $100 000 Porsche, gripping the steering wheel with black-gloved hands, it felt like I once again roared on the racetrack. I pursued the car ahead like a dog chasing a tossed stick, my eyes and heart intent on what flew ahead. 

      Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I was intensely attentive to the state of the road. Was it wet, and shiny, or were there pine needles strewn upon it, indicating possible slipperiness? 

       But especially, I focused on the apex of each oncoming curve. I shifted at 60 mph from fourth gear, third, second, and back to third, fourth, and fifth gear within 2-3 seconds, each time I catapult-ted and accelerated through each of the continuous bends in this country road. The manual stick shift was used to slow the vehicle instead of the brakes. 

      During today's frenetic--of necessity, pavement focused--scenery-blurred journey, the brakes were never used. Not once did its lights radiate their red glare.  A stop sign would demand one.

     

Typical view of Skyline Blvd.

 And there were none.

      Immersed with handling my car, the countryside whizzed by.  What country-side? The 85-degree (29.44 C) weather was cooled by this highway canopied with redwood trees. 

      Today's heart-racing moment provided a stark contrast to my sedate job. 

       I sit and talk with people.  My behavior in the car that day bespoke of 12 years of organized sports I played as a kid and young man. My quiet demeanor belies the assertiveness, confidence, and aggressiveness lurk-ing within. 

      When we arrived where the Skyline intersected Woodside Road, the driver of this German car in racing yellow slowed down, pulled over to the shoulder of the road, and stuck his left arm out. 

      He waved me over three times.  He beckoned me to pass. He gave up trying to outrun me.  

     He wanted to see what I could do.  Sailing by, I roared northward towards Highway 92,---thirteen miles (20.92 km) ahead.  As we took turns on this two-lane wavy road, the Porsche Carrera driver drifted behind. 

     In front of him, within a minute, he disappeared from my rear-view mirror. 

     Like him, I once feared taking sharp turns at twice the posted speed limit and more, too.  Since November I poured twenty hours getting trained at the Sears Point Racetrack in Sonoma.  Going back three years, I also enjoyed sixteen gut-wrenching 3–5-hour private perfor-mance driving lessons from a professional racer, both of us wearing helmets as we moved at high speed. 

     This investment in driving skills made a difference on this day.  Now, I'm comfortable with and confident in what my car can do.  I enjoy Jinba Ittai.

    This Japanese phrase de-scribes the oneness between horse and rider, communica-ting through tactile response. While driving my rollbar-fit-ted sports car, I get engulfed with this joyful experience.

     Handling my car now flows. No thinking required. Driving with performance involves more than stomping on the throttle and hang-ing onto the steering wheel.

     Moving on, I caught up with a motorcyclist clad neck to toe in black leather, topped off with a black helmet.  His pants had padded knees.  My hair entirely tousled because the top of my car was down, proving I don't wear a toupee. 

     I stayed on his back wheel.  Every time the cyclist sped up on the twisty road, he could not shake my pursuit.  This adventure continued even when he took turns so fast that he leaned on his knees, scraping the road. 

     I drove behind him as if attached to his back wheel. When he passed two cars, so did I. The Porsche was long gone after passing him. 

      When the motorcyclist and I finished Skyline Blvd. at State Route 92 in San Mateo County, the yellow German car was a mile behind. I was lucky that neither my friend Stuart nor Jonathan rode with me.  This ride would not be kind to any-one with cardiac problems, which they both have.

     My watch revealed my heartbeat had reached 160 a minute. Yes, this is another side to the innkeeper.  One I like an awful lot. 

      Not long ago, a "Six Pass Day," passing six cars on two-lane country roads created excitement. It eventually became a "Fifteen Pass Day" on twisty back roads that took me through the Redwood-forested hamlets of La Honda, Loma Mar, Pescadero, and San Gregorio.  

       Now, there are "Twenty-eight Pass Days" providing 52 smiles to the gallon. 

My Gratitude for Today

1.  I am thankful for the time that allows me to get away from work and my typical day. 

2.  I am celebrating life, hav-ing plenty of smiles through-out the day. 

3.  I enjoyed a Zoom meeting with friends tonight.  This zoom is not car-related. 

     I love hearing the growth, hope, and strength reflected in tonight's conversation in the meeting.  My need for authenticity, community, and support took place.  I'm a lucky guy. 

     Life cannot get much better than what I am experiencing now.  

    Have a great Thursday.  I know mine will be.