Under the Sun. Tan lines and prickly pears. Stones over Beatles. Freckles and Italian icecream. Beach hair, a cool head and an orange bonnet. Tight bends and high speed turns. Open sky, the engine purrs. City lights and desert rain. The Santa Ana winds will blow it all away.

So-Cal Porschephiles have embodied the myth of the outrageously hedonistic Porsche for generations. But Under the Sun is a tribute to more than just cars. It is a road trip away from the paths most traveled, a shift in the gears of life. As the sun sets over the Pacific and the lights of the metropolis twinkle in the rearview mirror. Windows rolled down, all night self-service.

This book is about what it means to choose self determination. Where does this road come from? Who cares. What’s ahead of you is all that matters. Don’t tell me where it ends. There is always a few more laps around the circuit. And the 911 looks good even when it’s unwashed. Worn-out leather, no frills.
What if I say you‘re not like the others?