Winter Rituals

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, it’s about asking, "Would this road make the engineers in Stuttgart nod approvingly?"

Phase 2: The 'Quick Drive' Myth

Every season begins with the same lie: "I'll just go out for an hour."

An hour is adorable. An hour is what you tell yourself when you don't want to commit emotionally. You head out with no real plan, just a mental note of a few favourite stretches. The Porsche settles in, the flat-six clears its throat, and suddenly that one turn you love leads to another road you haven't driven in a while…which connects to a scenic route that would be irresponsible not to revisit.

Two hours later, you're calculating fuel range and wondering if that diner up ahead is still open.

Responsible Me sighs.

Porsche Me orders pie.

Phase 3: Pre-Flight Theatre

Before any 'serious' summer drive, there is the ritual. Tire pressures? Checked. Oil level? Confirmed.

That stone chip from the first day of ownership? Still pretending it's 'character.'

Responsible Me likes to think this is diligence. Preventative maintenance. Adult behaviour.

In reality, it's foreplay for the drive. Even the weather app becomes part of the drama. Responsible Me refreshes it like he's monitoring a space launch. Wind: 6 km/h. That's perfect. Just enough to take the face-flush off when hitting the twisties. Chance of showers: 20%. He can work with that. Rain builds character. Nothing, however, ruins the illusion of cool faster than scrambling to put the top up in a shower at a red light while a minivan full of children watches in amusement.

Porsche Guy just gives them a grin and a thumbs up, knowing they love the red rocket almost as much as he does.

Phase 4: Grand Summer Plans

This is where we get ambitious.

The long loop. The leave-at-dawn, coffee-in-hand, roads-still-empty kind of drive. The one that threads together quiet countryside, elevation changes, and that one stretch of pavement that feels like it was accidentally built for sports cars. I'll note fuel stops. Identify scenic overlooks. Maybe even find a lunch spot that takes cash only and has the best pie in the province.

On the laptop screen, it looks organized. In reality, it’s just mildly-structured freedom. Responsible Me can live with it, because its got structure - a plan.

But he's fooling himself. Because no matter how carefully planned the route is, the best parts are always unplanned; the detour that turns out to be better than the original road, the overlook you didn’t know existed, the moment when everything lines up: temperature just right, traffic nonexistent, engine singing behind you.

That’s the stuff you can’t schedule.

Porsche Me lives for this.

The Real Reason We Do This

If we're honest, summer route planning isn’t about efficiency, It’s about anticipation. It’s about standing in the garage with the door open, sunlight hitting the paint just right, and feeling that tiny surge of gratitude that you get to do this at all.

Responsible Me knows it’s just a car.

Porsche Me knows it’s never just a car.

It’s early mornings. Empty roads. The hum of tires on clean pavement. The way the steering talks back if you’re paying attention. Sunglasses on, wind in our...errr...hair. Freedom to go with the flow and explore.

So yes, we'll keep pretending we are planning 'responsible' summer drives. And yes, they’ll probably turn into longer, louder, slightly less reasonable adventures. Both of us will be content, because winter is long, and summer roads don’t drive themselves.

Hurry up spring!

~ Luke