el jefe

they skimmed it.

those sonsofbitches.

why even bother writing a goddamn book on the Grande Dame and not dedicate at least a chapter to the Weissach Edition? apparently she was only worth a few half-assed sentences peppered with an option code, the color, and that it came with some luggage.

what a disgrace.


e̶l̶ ̶j̶e̶f̶e̶

she drifted in without a sound.

I went limp giving no resistance as Death gently embraced and lifted my soul away from its shell. she’d cut me loose into the black that gave way to the brightest sun no one can bring back as a souvenir.

the most beautiful dream was waiting to take possession of my soul in exchange for a reality I’d spent a lifetime pursuing.


e̶l̶ ̶j̶e̶f̶e̶

my woman had gotten home before me. I was busted.

she’d surely catch the scent of the nasty girl I had spent the day with. I was too exhausted for the salvo of questions she’d start asking in haste. 


igor duerloo

Just like last year, it was quite a job to get the Shark roadworthy by 11/08. Just like last year “the shark” had little choice, he has to perform on this day or face a trip to the funeral pyre when failing to report for duty. I didn’t get the diff set up as it should've been but I’m willing to risk the sacrifice. Contrary to last year we don’t take off with a dry mouth but with a slightly “knocking” diff. 


e̶l̶ ̶j̶e̶f̶e̶

please click on the image to view the art

francesco tiepolo

March 2015.

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?


e̶l̶ ̶j̶e̶f̶e̶

please click on the image to view the photography

seth ruden

please click on the image to read this story

diana reinartz

editor's note--

I'm not a pious man, but if were, I'd have to say two of my prayers were answered. the first is that flüssig finally has a woman's voice; something we so desperately needed because quite frankly, this has been a sausage party for too long, ya know? I've been inactively on the lookout for more women enthusiasts to join in on the irreverent fun we've been having. on to the second prayer. we have our first correspondent from Germany. this is a journal about German cars with a German name yet we had no one representing the official playground for Stuttgart's Stute und Gestüt. to celebrate, we'll be posting all of Diana's articles in her native tongue along with ours. it'll help bring a larger fold of German speakers who'll appreciate phrases and words that get lost in translation. 

well, she's finally here...willkommen Diana!

e̶l̶ ̶j̶e̶f̶e̶


el jefe

calling this work of art a "shooting brake" is like calling a 944 a "hatch back;" it's a ruined orgasm...like hearing the voice of your momma from the distance calling out for you while receiving a terrific blowjob by the town hussy in the park down the street because it's past your curfew. 

DP knew such a trite expression used by tight lipped English old farts to describe "a mode of transport for sporting gentlemen, their rifles, and a couple of hounds" could no longer apply to such a revolutionary car. instead, they chose a more pragmatic term that cuts through the upper crust horseshit -Cargo.