Porsche is one of those marques about which I feel ambivalence. Unless the six numbers click into place on the National Lottery, I am never likely to go out shopping for one. The lottery, like a second marriage, is a triumph of hope over experience, but we all have our dreams and every enthusiast has a wish list. Somehow, Porsche has never registered on mine.
Here I speak of fantasy and wish-fulfillment and why not? That is the whole point of owning a certain type of car. As I have said before, a sports car is a mating call and I am more attracted to the sort of girl who would love me for my Ferrari than one who would love me for my Porsche.