RED-LINE SMILEY :)

Where do you want to drive crazy today?
Posted by Walt Bilofsky on Sunday, 12 July 1998, at 12:11 a.m.

Normal customers place their order, go home, and wait for the dealer to call them with occasional updates. They know not from warranty changes, model years, crancase casting machines, options that come and go and come again like skirt lengths (except faster), and all the thousand and one complications of life on PPBB. They wait in silent contemplation of the inscrutiable process that, they trust, will in the fullness of time produce: their Boxster. They sleep well at night, eyelids comfortably covering eyeballs that reflect not the glow of 17" monitors replete with the latest rumors of parts shortages and ships misplaced at sea. They are not, in a word, crazy.

So spare a second from whiffling through discussions of color choice, accessories, which transmission causes production delays, supercharged chromed aspheric 18" calipers in color of body - spare a second, I say, to pity these sane, complacent, off-line, unknowing, self-satisfied Boxsterwaiters. What know they of the soul of their machine, its patient wait for the quickening touch of PLPROD, its baptism in the paint shop, its vigil on the dock, its cosmoline-clad voyage in the salt air darkness? How, then, deserve these sluggards the thrum of cylinders beneath the coccyx, the whistle of the wind through mysterious gaps in sheet metal, the view through clouded vinyl of receeding highway behind? They wait, aye - but do they live?

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