718 Life.

I’ve always believed in winter cars. Ottawa makes that decision for you. The salt, the slush, the frost-heaved roads and the months of grey grime aren’t conditions a proper sports car should ever have to endure. So for as long as I’ve owned summer cars, there has always been something else ready to take over - something practical, resilient, and willing to absorb the worst of it. That part isn’t new. What is new is the quality of that handoff. A new winter car that fulfils its role, not as a substitute for the Porsche, but as a necessity in the freezing months. It won’t try to be special in the same way, and it doesn’t need to. Its job is simpler and more honest: to be a decent replacement for a few difficult months, and to do so without feeling like a punishment. And in that role, I think it will excel. The Porsche still retreats for the season as it always has, stored away not out of sentimentality, but out of respect. It remains what it has always been, a summer car, saved for w...

Winter. For most people, it means mitts, boots, and hibernating indoors until the first crocus pops through the snow. For me? It means wax. And polish. And staring a little too closely at the Carmine Red paint of my Boxster. The roads may be icy, the wind merciless, and the forecast entirely discouraging. Outside, the world is a frozen mess of snowbanks, salt, and the occasional lost hockey puck. But inside the garage, the universe shrinks to a bottle of Sonax, a soft cloth, and a single, gleaming object of obsession. Winter gives me the excuse to slow down, to notice every swirl, every reflection, every tiny imperfection in the hood, the fender, the doors. The Boxster deserves it. I deserve it. The snow? Let it pile up; we’ll wait. There’s a rhythm to it. Clean first. Every panel inspected under the unforgiving glare of overhead lights (or my trusty headlamp). Wheels wiped. Brake calipers scrutinized. Then comes the one-step polish (I use Sonax Perfect Finish), smoothed evenly, buffed...

We wait. There’s a rhythm to being a Canadian who drives a convertible. Summer: top down, sunglasses on, life is good. Winter: top up… in the garage… under a cover… nowhere near salt… life is still good, but in a “deep breath, long exhale, why does the universe do this to me?” sort of way. Every autumn I go through the ritual of “How many more drives can I squeeze in before the snow hits?” This involves monitoring the weather app like it owes me money, and convincing myself that 6°C is “balmy” if the heated seats are on and the toque is snug. I’ll turn a quick errand into a 45-minute scenic detour because, well, why not? The car deserves it. I deserve it. The squirrels judging me along the side of the road? They’ll get over it. Then comes the signal: the first flurry of snow, followed immediately by the city’s very enthusiastic decision to coat every road with enough salt to season a small country. That’s my cue. A quick wash and I roll the car in, plug in the tender, and whisper somet...

Loneliness. It’s one of those things everyone feels at some point, and sometimes it settles in deeper than you expect. It doesn’t announce itself. It just drifts quietly into your life, filling the empty rooms and the unfinished conversations, stretching out in the stillness of a house that occasionally feels just a bit too hollow. You notice it on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, when the fridge hums louder than anything outside, and you catch yourself wondering when the silence became a companion you never asked for. Everyone tries to manage it in their own way. Some drown it out with people, others with playlists or long walks that go nowhere in particular. Me? Sometimes the best antidote is a Boxster! There’s a kind of comfort in summer driving. The moment I slide behind the wheel, fire up the engine, and drop the top, something inside me loosens just a little. The warm air moves through the cabin, sunlight spreads across the dash, and for a brief, fragile stretch of road, the world ...

Winter. That means a few things to us salt-averse Porschephiles here in the nation's capital, chief of which is the storing of our beauties for the duration of the dark, cold months. Notes from last year show I didn't put 'Red' away until November 25 last year, and got her out the following April 17, almost 5 months hibernation. This year, however, might be a little longer, as we had our first dumping of snow here on November 7th (11.7 cm) and the city quickly saw fit to dump several metric tons of sodium chloride all over our roads. Now there are those out there who are lucky enough to live in parts of the world that do not see the kinds of winter weather we do, and many are the folk who also put winter- or performance all-season tires on their 718s so that they can enjoy them year-round. The forums abound with comments like, "These cars should be enjoyed year-round!" or "Don't be such a wimp - get winter tires and DRIVE!" or "Garage Queens...

Remembering. It's one of my favourite photos of my car. Taken on a wet day in Italy in 2023. The rain, the cold, the grey skies - all in direct contrast to the gorgeous red machine I was the proud new owner of. Here on November 11, 2025, I'm thinking today about how lucky I am, for so many things, and how so many young people committed to the cause of freedom right in the very spot this photo was taken, in both World Wars. Is it a stretch to say this photo captures the same quiet reverence that lingers in the remembrance of fallen heroes? Do the raindrops glistening on the car evoke the red of a poppy? That ubiquitous symbol of sacrifice and remembrance. The colourful brightness stands out against the muted grey of the Italian Dolomite sky while the mist and low clouds weave a solemn veil over the mountains where the young soldiers fought. Far off in the distance, a strip of clear blue sky feels like hope, and looking at it again, remembering that day of driving fun with an ama...

Sun. Road. Porsche. With winter hibernation, fast approaching, it was time for the last 718 road trip of the summer. With no specific time limits on me, I am free to make my own way, at my own pace, back to home home. French Village, New Brunswick. This time around, I avoid our turbulent neighbour to the south, and chart a course through Canada exclusively. Never the most exciting drive in terms of G-forces, regardless, with the top down for 90% of the way, the Boxster cabin is a lovely place to spend 1200 km of Canadian countryside.  Once I clear the foul and increasingly increasing levels of Ottawa traffic, the loop that skirts Montreal to the south is smooth sailing. From there, on the eastern outskirts of the big city, the speed ramps up noticeably as it always does, all the way to Quebec City. It’s something I’ve noticed over the past 30 years driving that particular stretch of road, people drive fast! If they’re anything like me, there’s a palpable sense of when finally away ...

Firsts? The first time doing something can be a nerve-wracking, scary, anxiety-inducing, whole-body stress-filling-nervousness moment, this I know. First time wet sanding your new car's clearcoat? Nerve-wracking. First time navigating a mountain pass at speed with sheer drop offs in that new car? Scary. First time driving up an uneven dirt road in that BRAND-NEW, extremely low-slung sportscar? Anxiety-inducing. First time taking her on the 'Ring. Next-level nervousness. All successfully conquered, giving you the satisfaction of having done something for the first time, and having it work out well. So, a new nervous first: a couple of weeks ago I plugged a puncture in a tire for the first time. I know, hard to believe in 41 years of driving, I'd never plugged a tire. But as far as I can recall, I've only ever had three flat tires and all were in the sidewalls of the tires and unrepairable. The most bitter of those was one in a brand new rear tire on the S2000, that nece...

Short and sweet. In the interests of keeping the pursuit of fun driving alive, I propose an 'intro' curvy road drive to some friends and they agree to take me up on it. I'll introduce them to you. Let's call them A and L. Heh. Each have been out on the track before, over the years, A starting with a Honda Civic and moving to an Audi S3 and a BMW Z4 3.0, often times together with me as I wrung out my S2000. A started young, like me - pretty sure we were at Mont Tremblant doing track sessions around the same time, long before we knew each other. L has been dragged into the fold, and enjoyed some track sessions with us now too, enjoying the S3 to its fullest - and beyond! A is the only person I had let (gleefully) drive the S2000 on the track ever, and so when the time came for that car to move along to a well-deserving home, to make space for 'Red', there really was no other choice that made sense - in 2023 A lovingly took ownership of the little red Honda rocket....

Hooray for weekends! Thanks to them, I'm starting to get to know the roads in my locale. At least the curvy ones to the west, within a couple of hours drive. Last weekend was a chance to connect up with my GT Silver Cayman S buddy and take a drive out for breakfast at the roadside diner near Griffith, ON. I figured I'd get a few more kilometres of life out of my front Michelins before I change them out for fresh ones this week - they definitely have worn out less than the rears, but as they are getting close to the end, and there's a fresh set waiting at my mechanic's, swapping them seems like a good idea. But one last little jaunt out for some curvy fun was on the cards, so I Google-mapped up a route for us that did a bit more exploring. There's not a lot to choose from in this area with respect to twisty roads, but finding new ways to get to the ones I do know is a pleasure. This time I charted a highway-avoiding path up through Packenham, up to Calabogie Road and...

A quick update today. Just got the Boxster back from The Wrap Factory , where the excellent fellows there did a quick PPF job on the rear of the 718. Specifically just aft of the rear wheels. You might not have known it, but there is a high degree of scuffing that happens back there with dirt and debris kicked up by the massive rear tires. Last year we had DIY'd putting pre-cut protective film on the GTS Chronicles Cayman, and it had turned out well, even if wrapping the edges was a bit of a pain in the butt. Surface preparation is key, and we had done a good job cleaning, polishing and touching up the surfaces before we applied the film. More than a year later, it's holding well and doing the job it's supposed to do. Unfortunately, we never got back around to doing the Boxster in the same manner, and I put another summer's worth of driving on it before finally getting around to it. Wish I'd made it a priority before, as there was quite a bit of 'rash' that...

Summer vacation. A time to throw off the shackles, turn off the (depressing) news, step away from all of those daily responsibilities, and just relax. Maybe it's a cottage rental. Or an all-inclusive getaway to the south (although really that feels more like a winter break thing here in then-frozen Canada). Or perhaps it's backpacking into the wilderness, and spending the night under the stars. Some people like to jet off to Vegas, while others just like to spend time in their backyards, saving money and eating BBQ every night for a week. This time around it was another trip to my folks in New Brunswick, a story I've told before. This time with a little bit of a twist to try and keep things interesting, a longer visit was planned, which gave me more opportunity to play with the Boxster on some previously-unexplored back roads in southern New Brunswick. The weather cooperated pretty much the whole time we were there, so I had many short trip outings to put a smile on my face...

"Belt up!" A rather British saying, meaning - nicely - "be quiet" but probably more accurately, "shut up!". But I use it in a more 'prepare-to-launch' fashion, as in "Put your seatbelt on, we're about to take off!" Because 'take off' is what the 718 does. It doesn't take much pedal input to launch the Boxster off the line, and rapidly you find yourself grabbing for second gear without really even thinking about it. Lovely. Being a bit fastidious about my red beauty, I saw something the other day. Or rather I heard something: a little scritch, scritch sound. Now car interiors are the worst place for annoying squeaks and rattles, niggling auditory 'splinters' that burrow their way into your consciousness, especially on a long drive. With my traditional summer drive to NB planned starting tomorrow, I had to get this travesty dealt with, otherwise I'd have a 1000+ kilometres of annoyance plaguing me. After some exp...

Thursday. After work. The sun is out, with a bit of cloud cover and a pleasant temperature. No thunderstorms in sight, and the forecast is clear and dry all evening. What better time than to wrap up work for the day and meet up with a certain Carmine Red Cayman? The brief? Go and check out "Norton Road" out Calabogie way. We'd spotted it before, but hadn't yet sampled that bit of Eastern Ontario / west-of-Ottawa pavement. Meeting up at a local mall parking lot, we make a rough plan to head out of Ottawa, avoiding the highway. It takes about 30-40 minutes to leave the dull straight roads behind and at least get into some gentle curves west of the city, so why not at least get off the truck-haven of the 417 and use the side roads to make our way? After a quick pre-drive clean up, I'm ready. After all, you can't go out in public not looking your best, right? It's a perfect late afternoon for the Boxster. The top is down and will stay that way for the next fou...