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In a secure car storage space in New Jersey, just across the Hudson River from Manhattan, it’s dark and mostly silent. There’s a shuffle of feet, an arc of light gently working its way through the darkness, and the click of a camera shutter. The camera’s screen glows with the result of a 10-second exposure. A quick assessment of the image, then the process repeats, again and again. This is automotive light painting.
Early on a Sunday morning in the canyons above Los Angeles, the parking lot of Newcomb’s Ranch looks like a race track. A who’s-who of high-end hardware at the common coffee and breakfast stop usually has folks fawning over that newest, hottest ride in the lot. But one recent weekend, a bashed-up silver Porsche 911 was getting all the attention.
Few models are more coveted in the rarefied world of Porsche collecting than the track-destined RS models. Part of the allure is because arguably the most important of the batch, the 996, the first GT3 to have a designated RS model, didn’t come to America. Here’s how a group of collectors brought one over anyway.
Standing on the edge of a dry lakebed at 4:30 a.m., stars twinkling overhead, I could hear the sound of a distant engine but couldn’t quite make out from where. Scanning the black abyss that is nighttime El Mirage, a lone distant light was actually moving closer and closer. Out of the darkness rumbled a scene straight from Mad Max. Already looking like it had been through an apocalypse, this little Alfa was a survivor of a different sense.
