718 Life.

Some stories are about cars. Some are about the roads we travel, the places we discover, the ridiculous things we do along the way, and the memories we collect.  And some stories are really about the people we shared them with. This one is about my lifelong friend. My university chum.  My GTS Chronicles partner-in-crime. Today, I’m having to write something I never imagined I would write. Andrew has passed away from cancer, at only 58 years old. There are some people who come into your life for a while and then vanish, and then there are others who become part of the fabric of it. He was one of those people. We have known each other for most of our lives (since university), and early along the way our friendship became intertwined with cars, roads, adventures, laughter, and an awful lot of conversations that probably made considerably more sense to us than they would have to anyone listening in. The GTS Chronicles is one of those things. Two guys trying to capture somethi...

Oasis. Sanctuary. Refuge. Safe haven. Words  that evoke shelter from chaotic times. We all need respite from tough things from time to time, and I can’t deny that the last month has been pretty fraught. Getting caught in the Canada Day flooding while in-between homes certainly has presented a host of stressful challenges. It’s been a busy month, to say the least, packing up the home of ten years to move, then dealing with the flood aftermath both at the new home and at friends’ homes too. And finally getting all our stuff transferred from one place to the other. With some light appearing in the gloom - a basement that is clean and dry (if now 'unfinished'), our furniture and moving boxes all at the new place - we can breathe a little bit. The electrics are back on. The new furnace is working. Life can begin to get back to normal. I need a break. A little haven. A little getaway. A chance to recharge the batteries. To replace the sound of dehumidifiers and shop vacs with som...

This is one July 1st that a lot of Ottawa residents will remember for a long, long time, and not for the reasons anyone would have hoped. An unprecedented 1-in-200-year storm battered Ottawa on Canada Day 2026, dropping up to 167 mm of rain in some areas. The historic deluge flooded thousands of homes, triggered widespread power outages, and forced the city to cancel all official Canada Day festivities. The worst of the damage was concentrated in Ottawa’s west end, right where I live, and right where I had just taken possession of my new home. Oh crap. Environment Canada recorded 118.4 mm of rain at the Ottawa airport, shattering the previous single-day July record of 58.9 mm set back in 1959. The sheer volume of water overwhelmed the storm sewer system, sending water back into thousands of basements. At the same time, the two creeks that wind through my new neighbourhood overflowed their banks, adding overland flooding to an already impossible situation. At the beginning of the storm,...

One of the most common comments I hear about my 718 GTS comes from people who are not car enthusiasts. Usually they're sitting in the passenger seat, looking around the cabin and they've asked how much a car like this costs. The comment is almost always some variation of the same question: "I can't believe it doesn't have XYZ. For that kind of money, shouldn't it have more features?" It's a fair question. After all, we've been conditioned to believe that expensive cars should be loaded with equipment. Ventilated seats. Massaging seats. Automated driving systems. Giant touchscreens. Night vision. Soft-close doors. Hologram generators? Force fields? A seemingly endless list of conveniences and technologies. If you're spending a lot of money on a vehicle, surely it should have everything. But I think there's a big misunderstanding there. People assume all expensive cars are trying to accomplish the same thing. They're not. A luxury car and...

There are moments in life when the sensible thing is to wait. Wait for the right time. Wait for more certainty. Wait until the numbers make more sense. And then there are moments when you realize that waiting is its own decision, and perhaps not the right thing to do after all. I'm good at waiting. Very patient. But the journey that led to two 718s and an unforgettable European adventure with a lifelong friend was one of those moments where waiting wasn't the right call. Looking back, it would have been easy to find reasons not to do it. There were practical arguments, financial arguments, and all the usual reasons to leave a dream for 'someday'. Some of those crept into my mind in the early days for sure. But someday is a dangerous place. Too many great experiences end up living there forever. Thanks to my fellow enthusiast, who reminded me all too succinctly that 'life is short', we didn't dwell on the decision too long. We took the leap. We placed the ord...

You’ve probably heard of ‘The Golden Hour’. That window near sunset where the light just works for great photos. It’s softer, warmer, and way more forgiving than the middle of the day. Last weekend I was out for the first drive of the season, and I grabbed my camera and brought it along. And promptly forgot about. Guess I was enjoying being back in the driver’s seat of this marvellous machine once again after a long winter hiatus. Nothing big, or preplanned, just a late afternoon rip out on the only bit of twisty road in the area. Just to get that feeling again. The first drive of the season is usually pretty straightforward. I was just getting back into it, shaking off the rust a bit, seeing how everything felt. The car settled in immediately - it’s me who needed the primer - but it all came back without much effort. As the drive wound down, I suddenly realized I’d been preoccupied with driving, and forgotten all about taking a great photo to commemorate the start of the season. Years...

My GTS wears black exhaust tips. They’re part of that darker, more serious look that Porsche seems to favour in the GTS trims. Purposeful. Understated. A little bit shadowed. But as you know, dear reader, I'm not a fan. I prefer a little 'lightness' in my sports cars. As enthusiasts, we all end up doing it - modifying, or maybe more accurately, personalizing - our cars. The funny part, at least for me, is that a lot of that work was already done on day one. I spent the time when I ordered the car getting it just right. Speccing it in a way that made it mine. But Porsche won't let you de-darkening the GTS. So I have to do it myself. The changes aren’t about reinventing anything. They’re not big-money moves or dramatic shifts. Those are costly and I've already put the money in. If anything, now, they’re smaller. Little nudges that refine rather than redefine. That’s more my pace anyway. Lately, I’ve been feeling the pull to lighten things just a touch. I removed the b...

Spring prep on the Boxster. Inspired by other convertible owners, and horror stories of fried electronics due to backed up and overflowing tubes, I cleared out the Boxster’s roof drains today. Turns out fishing maple ‘helicopter’ seed pods out of tiny holes with improvised tools feels a lot like arthroscopic surgery…just without any schooling and a whole lot of trial and error and swearing. A tiny cable camera and a skinny vacuum hose and I was ready for the patient. Two hours later (!) the tiny bits of detritus were gone and the channels were clean as new. And now I know what those surgeons feel like doing precision work in really tight spaces. Car’s ready, and so is my surgical confidence - as in I am confident that I could not be an arthroscopic surgeon. The patients would all suffer from my attempts. Bring on the sunshine and salt-free roads! ~ Luke

April. I haven’t taken the car out yet, and surprisingly, I’m in no rush. Right now, I like the rain. Not the kind that ruins plans, but the steady, soaking kind that works quietly in the background. The kind that darkens the pavement, pulls the salt out of the cracks, and carries winter away one wash at a time. Every rainfall feels like progress, like the roads are being reset without me having to do anything but wait. It’s a different relationship to driving right now, than what’s coming soon. This isn’t about chasing clear skies or dropping the top at the first hint of warmth. That will come later, when I soak up those long, golden evenings, sun at the low quarter, every excuse to be out and moving. But this part? This is quieter. Anticipatory. Right now, I’m not thinking about driving. I’m thinking about the roads becoming worth driving on again. The first street sweepers are out, doing their faithful duty, and I gratefully watch them work my neighborhood up and down. A few more da...

I remember when my generation of 718 came out.  The YouTubers all went from saying “Boxster GTS” to saying “Boxster GTS four-litre.” To be clear, prior to that they weren’t saying “Boxster GTS two-point-five litre.” But because of Porsche’s (wonderful) decision to bestow the four-litre flat six on the GTS, now they had to differentiate with a long, rather awkward name. Extra awkward when you added in the marque and model in front: “Porsche seven eighteen Boxster GTS four litre.” What a mouthful. Then came the script on the rear of the car. A car detailer’s nemesis. Little nooks and crannies to catch dirt and wax alike. Razor sharp edges of letters to grab your wash mitt and capture threads underneath. Q-tips needed to clean in and around the satin black writing. What a pain. And yes, black lettering is part of the 'GTS-look' I know...not my fave. So, after fussing over the rear of the car this evening, doing more detailing prep for the spring that is finally on the horizon, I g...

The sun is relentless here. Not the kind that peeks through trees on an early morning backroad, but the kind that sits high and heavy all day long, bleaching colour out of everything it touches. It’s beautiful in its own way, endless blue skies, no hint of rain, but it feels static. Like a photograph I’ve been staring at for too long. And it’s not convertible weather. Not at all. There’s no reprieve, no cool pocket of air as I pick up speed, no shifting light through trees. Just exposure. Constant, unfiltered heat pressing down on me, baking the surfaces, the seats, the steering wheel. The kind of sun that makes me reach for shade that isn’t there. Top down wouldn’t be freedom here, it would be punishment. And then there are the roads. If you can call them that. They’re not the flowing, perfect ribbons of asphalt I chase. No rhythm, no cadence. Just patched surfaces, broken edges, dust that never quite settles. The kind of dust that clings to my shoes, to my clothes, to the inside of m...

Winter has a way of quieting things down, but as spring approaches, whispers are heard. My 718 sits tucked up, battery tender connected, cold tires resting on cold concrete. Roads are lined with salt and sand instead of apexes and shadows. The soundtrack for now isn’t a flat-six climbing toward redline, it’s the drip, drip, drip of impending spring as things begin to melt on my driveway. Two months from 'driving-spring'. Close enough to taste it. Far enough that we have to be just a little more patient. And by 'we' I mean my little community. The 'Porsche Pints' crew. It started while @alavigne and I were waiting for Porsche to build our cars. That long, long wait. The online forum ( 718forum.com ) we perused / scoured revealed some fellow 718-types right here in Ottawa, and we managed to organize a few meet ups over a cold one or two. Lots of laughs and commiserations, questions and answers. A great bunch all orbiting the same central star. From there, those ga...

I wasn’t always patient. It took years, countless life experiences, and yes, the ownership of many cars to get here. Friends notice it now. Colleagues comment on it. Strangers sometimes remark on it in passing. I’ve never dismissed it, but I know the patience they see has been cultivated over a lifetime, and driving has been one of my quiet teachers. I started with ordinary cars, more about getting from point A to B than the experience. An old, rusty sedan I relied on just to get to work. Then came a series of small hatches: impulsive purchases fueled by youthful enthusiasm. Each demanded attention: coaxing reluctant engines, waiting for worn clutches, protecting fragile bodywork. Any patience I had then was practical, born of necessity. Frustrating, yes, but rooted in endurance. Over time, it grew deeper. Waiting became preparation; obstacles became lessons. As I matured, so did my taste in cars. I continued chasing a sports car dream, but life forced me to round off the edges of my i...

There are two versions of me every February. There's Responsible Me - the one who thinks about sensible gas mileage, tire wear, and "just going out for a short drive." And then there's Porsche Me. He has Google Maps open in three tabs. He knows where every twisty backroad within 300 km lives. He refers to weather forecasts as "driving opportunities". Somewhere around mid-February, they begin early negotiations. It goes something like this: Phase 1: The Sensible Proposal Responsible Me: "I'll just do a few short drives this year. Keep it simple. Stay local." Porsche Me: "Define local." What follows is a deep dive into satellite view, hunting for roads that squiggle just enough to justify premium fuel prices. Any road that looks suspiciously straight is dismissed immediately. We're not here for geometry lessons. We're here for curves. Summer route planning, in theory, is about variety, scenery, rest stops and lunch. In practice,...