9/17/16
The day dawned bright and warm. There was not a cloud, either from moisture or fires, in the sky. It was going to be a hot day. The PCA Grand Prix Region had organized a drive up and over Angeles Crest, and my friend Mark and I were going. I had prepped my car for the event, having washed it the day before. I was a little miffed that when I left the house at 6:40 AM, my front and rear windows were covered in a visually impermeable coat of opaque water. I hate using my windshield wipers at times like this because they make a mess. Instead, I tried to use the defrosters, both front and back, to remove the water.
Because I couldn’t really see out the front window it took me twice as long as usual to get to the Shell station a few blocks away, where I was meeting Mark, When I got there, he was already waiting. I gassed up and then realized that I had forgotten to adjust my tire pressure the day before and wanted to top off the tires before we tackled the curves. Unfortunately, the air compressor was out of commission at the Shell station, so I figured I would deal with it in La Canada, where we were meeting to start the drive.
Mark and I took off down Robertson so we could get on the freeway and head east towards downtown on the way to La Canada. Mark, who loves to hammer his accelerator any chance he gets, surprised me by opting to go behind me, claiming he had no sense of direction and needing me to lead. Big mistake. My car was still littered with moisture, and as we left the gas station, most of it flew off my car and landed in his convertible. Oops.
Our plan was to grab breakfast at Dish, a folksy coffee shop on Foothill Boulevard in the heart of La Canada. Then we would head over to the meeting place and the chit chat session before the drive started. We had a nice breakfast. Mark got gas, and I got air. Then we went to the meeting place at the foot of Angeles Crest. We stayed for about 30 minutes before it was time to leave. We had about 26 Porsches on the drive, so we left in two run groups of 13 cars separated by about 15 minutes.
Mark and I left in the second run group. I spent the time before we started fiddling with my newly acquired GoPro camera. It took me about 2 minutes to figure out I had forgotten one of the pieces that would have enabled me to turn the camera 90 degrees and enabled it to face out the front of the windshield. It took me about 15 minutes trying to find a suitable location to attach the camera to get some forward view. I finally suctioned it onto the passenger window, giving me a somewhat interesting view out of the windshield and the passenger window.
The drive up Angeles Crest to Newcomb’s Ranch, where we stopped for a rest break, was sublime. There was very little traffic. The bicycles were few and far between. Our run group leader, Alan, was effectively using a walkie talkie to alert us as we came up on the riders. The motorcycles were few and far between and mostly well behaved, except for two nutcases who passed through our run group at high speed, cutting most of us off in dramatic fashion before disappearing up the road.
We left Newcomb’s and headed up Angeles Crest towards Wrightwood. The road was empty; the sky was blue; the gravel was flying….literally. It turns out that Angeles Crest was being repaved just up the road from Newcomb’s and there was loose gravel everywhere. We slowed down, spread out and, for what felt like an eternity, made our way past the construction zone. Eventually were back on smooth pavement and cruising into Wrightwood. Even though I am a native of Los Angeles, I frequently forget that there is a 7,000 foot summit just a few miles from downtown Los Angeles. I remembered in a hurry during the drive, as we tackled turn after turn on the way up before dropping down into Wrightwood for lunch.
We ate at the Grizzly Café, sitting as a group on the back patio. After a nice lunch and great conversation, it was time to hea
d home. The drive organizer had provided us with several routes home, but none of the drives was part of the planned outing. Mark and I formed a small group of five cars that were interested in taking the twistiest route home. This was unchartered driving for us, and despite the clear directions, we missed every turn point on the route, even with the cars with navigators in the passenger seat leading. Given the speed at which we were driving, this came as no surprise nor did it impede our enjoyment. We drove on Big Pines Highway, Valyermo Road, Fort Tejon Road, Mount Emma Road, Angeles Forest Highway and Big Tujunga Canyon. For the majority of the 60 odd miles we were the only vehicles on the roads. And what roads they 
were. Nice straights. Nice sweeping corners. Nice tight curves. Roads that were made for sports cars. Roads that were made for Porsches. Roads that were made for fun. We did nothing stupid, but we went as fast as I ever want to drive on backroads. My Cayman, like the rest of the Porsches, was just amazingly precise, balanced and agile, making the drive an absolute joy.