April 30 (Bloomberg) — Driving half blind, my helmet visor coated with greasy black water, I floor it to beat the racer inches to my right as we scream into a tight, narrow turn. One of us is going to eat it.
Unfortunately, it’s me. Tires kiss as we kamikaze into the bend — crack! My car thuds into the wall and then spins like a top on the wet track. Two other cars barrel around the corner just as I roll to a stop. I brace for the impact.
While head-on collisions are best avoided, the outcome is less than deadly. We’re on an indoor track, piloting 6.5- horsepower go-karts with a top speed of 40 miles per hour. The racing is real enough, the carnage is minimal. [To read on Bloomberg News, click here] (more…)
The collection: Ferrari Californias ready to be driven
My friends complain. In fact they complain a lot. Often it is directed at their high-school counselors (“Why didn’t they point out writing? Oh yeah, it had no money in it!”) More often it’s directed at me. “What trip are you taking now? I don’t want to hear about it.” Click.
I don’t blame them, not least of all because I can be pretty smug. Becoming a writer was a pretty good decision for me all things considered. (Though the counselors were right: There is no real money in it. Damn details!)
But there are assignments and there are assignments. When a magazine like Outside Go calls up (or perhaps when I call them up, as in this case), and an ideal scenario is presented, magic happens. The scenario: Fly to Sicily for a road trip, driving the brand new, not-yet-seen-on-American shores, Ferrari California. [Read the story on my site here, or on Outside Go itself.]
Um, yes!
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OUTSIDE GO
The nose knows: The fire-breathing Ferrari California
[This article appears in the Spring 2009 issue of Outside Go—click to read it on their site. All photos shot by Joshua Paul.]
A quintessential Italian landscape: Rolling grapevine-covered hills, sheep tended by crooked-back herders, and ancient stone castles outlined against the bright-blue Sicilian sky. Beautiful, no doubt, but as I’m screaming down the road in a brilliant-red Ferrari at 130 miles per hour, there’s precious little time to look.
Fifth gear, and the Ferrari California’s 454 horses are absolutely howling. I trigger sixth, and the convertible picks up more speed, the wind ripping at my hair. My apologies for spoiling the peace, but chances like this come along once in a lifetime. [It's true: Get a behind-the-scenes glimpse in my blog.]
City scape: Slipping through back alleys in a Sicilian mountain town
There are road trips, and there are road trips. Exploring the dramatic island of Sicily by sports car is a good start, especially knowing that Italians adore any bella macchina. Bring the newest Ferrari out on the road-a car virtually no one has seen in the actual aluminum flesh-and you’re an insta-hero. Cries of “Bravo!” and “Bello!” follow in the California’s hot exhaust like ticker tape. (more…)
[The injury toll, Day 1: Lost watch; bleeding elbow, both knees, one shin; seriously damaged sense of immortality.]
SKI MAGAZINE
So, this is how it’s gonna be. I will be the rock eater, the Curly to the mountain’s Moe. Today, it seems, I’m going to be voted Most Likely To Bleed.
We’ve all been there-you get together a competitive group (usually dudes) for a challenging day down the slopes, and a high-school gym-class pecking order soon asserts itself. There’s the gungho leaders hucking down the cliffs and shooting through the trees; then the middle-ground contingent who keep up, but a little less spectacularly; and then, well, there’s the guy who’s destined to eat it. Repeatedly.
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