Tony QuirogaCar and Driver
Emmy went blind. She’s the 20-pound mélange of beagle, cocker spaniel, mini poodle, and Chihuahua pictured above. Sudden acquired retinal degeneration syndrome turned off the lights in a matter of weeks.
Emmy moves through the darkness undaunted. It’s inspiring to see her rebound after running into a wall, a door, a chair, or a parked car. Moving her to Michigan presented a problem. Putting Emmy in a Boeing’s belly seemed a bit too Jonah and the whale. So I decided to do the 2200-mile trek by car. While Emmy can’t spot speed traps like she used to, she could at least smell the mountains and plains.
For me, the crossing ends a self-imposed 10-and-a-half-year exile to California and brings a return to the C/D hive and the living rooms of loving friends. But what’s the right car for such a journey? Our long-term fleet has some tempting options (Chevy Corvette, Porsche Cayman GTS). But a life-changing trip calls for something more personal, something like my 1995 Porsche 911 Carrera.
Humming along in the 911 is like flying a Cessna—the cockpit is tight, crammed with instruments, and a little noisy. The 3.6-liter spins its magnesium fan like a propeller; pulses and vibrations ripple through the car and into you. Slim pillars and a nearly upright windshield draw the world close. I went too far with the suspension setup. Anything but glassy pavement brings turbulence.
Watching the Road
Thoughts from the road: Left-lane obliviousness seems worse in places where the signage reads “Slower traffic keep right.” Every driver thinks they’re Lewis Hamilton; consequently, no one ever thinks they’re driving slowly. “Keep right except to pass” signs are far more effective at moving dolts out of the way.
New rule: Treat any car that appears in your rearview mirror like an ambulance, and the interstate becomes a happier place.
Lessons from a four-day trek in a 27-year-old car: A 911, even an old one, will still attract a school of like-minded speeders. Hallo, Freunde. The Arizona state police use unmarked V-6 Dodge Chargers—a pricey finding. An empty Arby’s in a Love’s truck stop is probably not the best place to record a podcast or have a virtual staff meeting. If you ask nicely, the waiter at La Veracruzana in Green River, Utah, will wipe off the patio furniture so you can eat outside with your pooch. Emmy hates rumble strips as much as she loves waffle fries. I-70 through the Colorado Rockies looks like a 1:1-scale Lionel train set.
The descent into Nebraska swapped out the scene on the other side of the glass from snow-capped peaks to rolling green prairie. Premium rose from 91 to 93 octane, an upgrade that pleased the 993. Fresh-cut-grass smells blew in through the vents. Lincoln, Des Moines, Chicago. The verdant Midwest miles melted into each other as we closed in on the goal. Finally, Ann Arbor. Home, especially now that Emmy and the 911 are here.
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