Porsche drivers have no need to look out their windows. There’s nothing as fascinating as their own selves inside their curvaceous capsules, what have they got to look at? We do the rubbernecking. Occupied with biz, meetings & events, they keep their focus straight ahead where they are going, no time to lose, no vacant mooning. Sometimes you get young guys roaring down the streets in their red & burnt orange models, but it’s the oldies who do it right in their plain whites and creams, who do it most regally, like practiced regents on the thrones. They don’t have to have the latest cuts or dyes these guys, necklaces, chains or rocks. Smooth and perfectly steady the chap in the older model stopped at the lights on Jalan Besar this afternoon, nondescript, if not positively ugly (rather in the form of Godard).... Has there ever been sighted a female driver in all these years? Why have they all gravitated to those other, lesser coupes? So long you assumed they were French, before a Bavarian g-friend corrected.
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