I am driving my 1992 928 GTS on the Swiss highway at 100 km/h. Destination - Germany. I started this weekend trip on an early Friday morning, in order to be in Freiburg Germany before 12 noon.
To my right was my wife; she was asleep. In the rear right passenger seat, my 3 year old son was doing the same.
The light of dawn begins to enter the valleys in the Swiss mountains, I am comfortably sitting in the pilot seat. The cockpit's temeprature was cozy despite the cold air outside; ten day old snow was piled up on the side of the highway. Suddenly, the passenger side wheels clipped a mound of slush and as I twitched the wheel a bit to get the 928 back on asphalt, it hit me; how did I end up with a Porsche after generations of Bimmers in my family?