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It’s time to start making fun of people who don’t drive their cars. @vin_tra and I came up with a rule. Let’s call it the Vinratio. It’s (Total miles ÷ years owned) ÷ 2,000. That’s your number.

Drive your GTI 10,000 miles a year? Vinratio 5.0. Hero.
Drive your Ferrari 2,000 miles a year? Vinratio 1.0. Bare minimum.
Jerry Seinfeld’s 500E. 2,335 miles in 34 years. Vinratio 0.034. Criminal.

Below 1.0 and you’re that guy. Don’t be that guy. It’s a machine, not a Picasso… Drop your Vinratio in the comments.#takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

Stability control. Automatic transmissions. ABS. Adaptive cruise. Emergencying all the things. Backup alerts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Its essentially the AI you say don’t want in your life interfering with your driving. Reject the tech bloat. Reject the revocation and resignation of control. Reject automotive modernity. Drive an old car. #takethecar

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

When you push the button on most things, they do just one thing: whatever it is they’re intended to. When you push the tall pedal in a 911, it does everything—fueling the addiction, serving all of your senses. The exhaust screams. The world reflects its noise along guardrails, rock cliffs, earthen walls, trees, and buildings. The induction breathes, the chassis vibrates.

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure.

From issue 009
Written and photographed by @krisclewell

#000Magazine #Porsche #Porsche911 #aircooled #roadtrip #porschemoment #overcrest #luftgekühlt

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

When you push the button on most things, they do just one thing: whatever it is they’re intended to. When you push the tall pedal in a 911, it does everything—fueling the addiction, serving all of your senses. The exhaust screams. The world reflects its noise along guardrails, rock cliffs, earthen walls, trees, and buildings. The induction breathes, the chassis vibrates.

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure.

From issue 009
Written and photographed by @krisclewell

#000Magazine #Porsche #Porsche911 #aircooled #roadtrip #porschemoment #overcrest #luftgekühlt

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

When you push the button on most things, they do just one thing: whatever it is they’re intended to. When you push the tall pedal in a 911, it does everything—fueling the addiction, serving all of your senses. The exhaust screams. The world reflects its noise along guardrails, rock cliffs, earthen walls, trees, and buildings. The induction breathes, the chassis vibrates.

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure.

From issue 009
Written and photographed by @krisclewell

#000Magazine #Porsche #Porsche911 #aircooled #roadtrip #porschemoment #overcrest #luftgekühlt

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

When you push the button on most things, they do just one thing: whatever it is they’re intended to. When you push the tall pedal in a 911, it does everything—fueling the addiction, serving all of your senses. The exhaust screams. The world reflects its noise along guardrails, rock cliffs, earthen walls, trees, and buildings. The induction breathes, the chassis vibrates.

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure.

From issue 009
Written and photographed by @krisclewell

#000Magazine #Porsche #Porsche911 #aircooled #roadtrip #porschemoment #overcrest #luftgekühlt

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

When you push the button on most things, they do just one thing: whatever it is they’re intended to. When you push the tall pedal in a 911, it does everything—fueling the addiction, serving all of your senses. The exhaust screams. The world reflects its noise along guardrails, rock cliffs, earthen walls, trees, and buildings. The induction breathes, the chassis vibrates.

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure.

From issue 009
Written and photographed by @krisclewell

#000Magazine #Porsche #Porsche911 #aircooled #roadtrip #porschemoment #overcrest #luftgekühlt

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

When you push the button on most things, they do just one thing: whatever it is they’re intended to. When you push the tall pedal in a 911, it does everything—fueling the addiction, serving all of your senses. The exhaust screams. The world reflects its noise along guardrails, rock cliffs, earthen walls, trees, and buildings. The induction breathes, the chassis vibrates.

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure.

From issue 009
Written and photographed by @krisclewell

#000Magazine #Porsche #Porsche911 #aircooled #roadtrip #porschemoment #overcrest #luftgekühlt

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

When you push the button on most things, they do just one thing: whatever it is they’re intended to. When you push the tall pedal in a 911, it does everything—fueling the addiction, serving all of your senses. The exhaust screams. The world reflects its noise along guardrails, rock cliffs, earthen walls, trees, and buildings. The induction breathes, the chassis vibrates.

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure.

From issue 009
Written and photographed by @krisclewell

#000Magazine #Porsche #Porsche911 #aircooled #roadtrip #porschemoment #overcrest #luftgekühlt

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

When you push the button on most things, they do just one thing: whatever it is they’re intended to. When you push the tall pedal in a 911, it does everything—fueling the addiction, serving all of your senses. The exhaust screams. The world reflects its noise along guardrails, rock cliffs, earthen walls, trees, and buildings. The induction breathes, the chassis vibrates.

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure.

From issue 009
Written and photographed by @krisclewell

#000Magazine #Porsche #Porsche911 #aircooled #roadtrip #porschemoment #overcrest #luftgekühlt

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

When you push the button on most things, they do just one thing: whatever it is they’re intended to. When you push the tall pedal in a 911, it does everything—fueling the addiction, serving all of your senses. The exhaust screams. The world reflects its noise along guardrails, rock cliffs, earthen walls, trees, and buildings. The induction breathes, the chassis vibrates.

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure.

From issue 009
Written and photographed by @krisclewell

#000Magazine #Porsche #Porsche911 #aircooled #roadtrip #porschemoment #overcrest #luftgekühlt

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

When you push the button on most things, they do just one thing: whatever it is they’re intended to. When you push the tall pedal in a 911, it does everything—fueling the addiction, serving all of your senses. The exhaust screams. The world reflects its noise along guardrails, rock cliffs, earthen walls, trees, and buildings. The induction breathes, the chassis vibrates.

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure.

From issue 009
Written and photographed by @krisclewell

#000Magazine #Porsche #Porsche911 #aircooled #roadtrip #porschemoment #overcrest #luftgekühlt

There are no good stories to tell without taking a risk. #takethecar #ocrally #porsche

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

April in no particular order.

It’s a rule that when you’re in Wisconsin, and you see a “Rustic Road” sign you have to follow it. @larsons_garage and I are out doing a little #ocrally scouting cleanup work digging deep for some gravel for everyone to bomb on. This one though? Maybe we’ll leave it as a special stage.

Sometimes I feel like my shadow is getting long enough that I cannot see myself in it anymore. I view this sentiment agnostically. I want to feel the way I felt when… without losing how I feel now but the now is that long shadow cast by the sun that rose back then. What is a mind to do?

Sometimes I feel like my shadow is getting long enough that I cannot see myself in it anymore. I view this sentiment agnostically. I want to feel the way I felt when… without losing how I feel now but the now is that long shadow cast by the sun that rose back then. What is a mind to do?

Sometimes I feel like my shadow is getting long enough that I cannot see myself in it anymore. I view this sentiment agnostically. I want to feel the way I felt when… without losing how I feel now but the now is that long shadow cast by the sun that rose back then. What is a mind to do?

Sometimes I feel like my shadow is getting long enough that I cannot see myself in it anymore. I view this sentiment agnostically. I want to feel the way I felt when… without losing how I feel now but the now is that long shadow cast by the sun that rose back then. What is a mind to do?

Sometimes I feel like my shadow is getting long enough that I cannot see myself in it anymore. I view this sentiment agnostically. I want to feel the way I felt when… without losing how I feel now but the now is that long shadow cast by the sun that rose back then. What is a mind to do?

Sometimes I feel like my shadow is getting long enough that I cannot see myself in it anymore. I view this sentiment agnostically. I want to feel the way I felt when… without losing how I feel now but the now is that long shadow cast by the sun that rose back then. What is a mind to do?

Sometimes I feel like my shadow is getting long enough that I cannot see myself in it anymore. I view this sentiment agnostically. I want to feel the way I felt when… without losing how I feel now but the now is that long shadow cast by the sun that rose back then. What is a mind to do?

Sometimes I feel like my shadow is getting long enough that I cannot see myself in it anymore. I view this sentiment agnostically. I want to feel the way I felt when… without losing how I feel now but the now is that long shadow cast by the sun that rose back then. What is a mind to do?

Sometimes I feel like my shadow is getting long enough that I cannot see myself in it anymore. I view this sentiment agnostically. I want to feel the way I felt when… without losing how I feel now but the now is that long shadow cast by the sun that rose back then. What is a mind to do?

Sometimes I feel like my shadow is getting long enough that I cannot see myself in it anymore. I view this sentiment agnostically. I want to feel the way I felt when… without losing how I feel now but the now is that long shadow cast by the sun that rose back then. What is a mind to do?

Sometimes I feel like my shadow is getting long enough that I cannot see myself in it anymore. I view this sentiment agnostically. I want to feel the way I felt when… without losing how I feel now but the now is that long shadow cast by the sun that rose back then. What is a mind to do?

Sometimes I feel like my shadow is getting long enough that I cannot see myself in it anymore. I view this sentiment agnostically. I want to feel the way I felt when… without losing how I feel now but the now is that long shadow cast by the sun that rose back then. What is a mind to do?

Sometimes I feel like my shadow is getting long enough that I cannot see myself in it anymore. I view this sentiment agnostically. I want to feel the way I felt when… without losing how I feel now but the now is that long shadow cast by the sun that rose back then. What is a mind to do?

Sometimes I feel like my shadow is getting long enough that I cannot see myself in it anymore. I view this sentiment agnostically. I want to feel the way I felt when… without losing how I feel now but the now is that long shadow cast by the sun that rose back then. What is a mind to do?

Sometimes I feel like my shadow is getting long enough that I cannot see myself in it anymore. I view this sentiment agnostically. I want to feel the way I felt when… without losing how I feel now but the now is that long shadow cast by the sun that rose back then. What is a mind to do?

Overcrest started with a rally of one. This 1972 911 was rebuilt by hand and driven over a hundred thousand miles since. Not show miles. Not trailer miles. Not “ice cream with the kids” miles. Miles earned on roads that didn’t promise to bring anything at all.

The car has crossed deserts at 105 degrees with no air conditioning. Braved ice storms at 10,000 feet. Sat on a ferry as the only vehicle crossing that afternoon. On the Lost Coast it was pushed flat out through switchbacks in the dark with a dying transmission and fog so thick the headlights were useless. Dry river beds, water crossings, dangerous switchbacks, any corner of the country the road would allow.

The destinations fade. The names of the highways blur. What stays is the moment. The hitchhiker you picked up. The lady at a down on its luck southern general store who made you a sandwich just because you said you were hungry. Parking thousands of feet above an infinite grid of farms at sunset and watching the light melt into an image a camera just cannot hold. Driving a road across the spine of a ridge with no barriers, no shoulder, and no one else around, watching your own shadow wave back from the cliff wall. Crossing empty vanishing point stretches where time was marked only by the passage of one shallow depression to another, the massive shadows of entire clouds laid out on the ground ahead.

These moments. The discovery, the hardship, the adventure, and the people met along the way. That is what the car gave. Not speed, not status. Access. To places and people and experiences that don’t exist without the willingness to just go. The Overcrest Rally exists because driving one car on one empty road was enough to know that other people needed to feel it too. A community grew around it because they did.

#takethecar

Overcrest started with a rally of one. This 1972 911 was rebuilt by hand and driven over a hundred thousand miles since. Not show miles. Not trailer miles. Not “ice cream with the kids” miles. Miles earned on roads that didn’t promise to bring anything at all.

The car has crossed deserts at 105 degrees with no air conditioning. Braved ice storms at 10,000 feet. Sat on a ferry as the only vehicle crossing that afternoon. On the Lost Coast it was pushed flat out through switchbacks in the dark with a dying transmission and fog so thick the headlights were useless. Dry river beds, water crossings, dangerous switchbacks, any corner of the country the road would allow.

The destinations fade. The names of the highways blur. What stays is the moment. The hitchhiker you picked up. The lady at a down on its luck southern general store who made you a sandwich just because you said you were hungry. Parking thousands of feet above an infinite grid of farms at sunset and watching the light melt into an image a camera just cannot hold. Driving a road across the spine of a ridge with no barriers, no shoulder, and no one else around, watching your own shadow wave back from the cliff wall. Crossing empty vanishing point stretches where time was marked only by the passage of one shallow depression to another, the massive shadows of entire clouds laid out on the ground ahead.

These moments. The discovery, the hardship, the adventure, and the people met along the way. That is what the car gave. Not speed, not status. Access. To places and people and experiences that don’t exist without the willingness to just go. The Overcrest Rally exists because driving one car on one empty road was enough to know that other people needed to feel it too. A community grew around it because they did.

#takethecar

Overcrest started with a rally of one. This 1972 911 was rebuilt by hand and driven over a hundred thousand miles since. Not show miles. Not trailer miles. Not “ice cream with the kids” miles. Miles earned on roads that didn’t promise to bring anything at all.

The car has crossed deserts at 105 degrees with no air conditioning. Braved ice storms at 10,000 feet. Sat on a ferry as the only vehicle crossing that afternoon. On the Lost Coast it was pushed flat out through switchbacks in the dark with a dying transmission and fog so thick the headlights were useless. Dry river beds, water crossings, dangerous switchbacks, any corner of the country the road would allow.

The destinations fade. The names of the highways blur. What stays is the moment. The hitchhiker you picked up. The lady at a down on its luck southern general store who made you a sandwich just because you said you were hungry. Parking thousands of feet above an infinite grid of farms at sunset and watching the light melt into an image a camera just cannot hold. Driving a road across the spine of a ridge with no barriers, no shoulder, and no one else around, watching your own shadow wave back from the cliff wall. Crossing empty vanishing point stretches where time was marked only by the passage of one shallow depression to another, the massive shadows of entire clouds laid out on the ground ahead.

These moments. The discovery, the hardship, the adventure, and the people met along the way. That is what the car gave. Not speed, not status. Access. To places and people and experiences that don’t exist without the willingness to just go. The Overcrest Rally exists because driving one car on one empty road was enough to know that other people needed to feel it too. A community grew around it because they did.

#takethecar

Overcrest started with a rally of one. This 1972 911 was rebuilt by hand and driven over a hundred thousand miles since. Not show miles. Not trailer miles. Not “ice cream with the kids” miles. Miles earned on roads that didn’t promise to bring anything at all.

The car has crossed deserts at 105 degrees with no air conditioning. Braved ice storms at 10,000 feet. Sat on a ferry as the only vehicle crossing that afternoon. On the Lost Coast it was pushed flat out through switchbacks in the dark with a dying transmission and fog so thick the headlights were useless. Dry river beds, water crossings, dangerous switchbacks, any corner of the country the road would allow.

The destinations fade. The names of the highways blur. What stays is the moment. The hitchhiker you picked up. The lady at a down on its luck southern general store who made you a sandwich just because you said you were hungry. Parking thousands of feet above an infinite grid of farms at sunset and watching the light melt into an image a camera just cannot hold. Driving a road across the spine of a ridge with no barriers, no shoulder, and no one else around, watching your own shadow wave back from the cliff wall. Crossing empty vanishing point stretches where time was marked only by the passage of one shallow depression to another, the massive shadows of entire clouds laid out on the ground ahead.

These moments. The discovery, the hardship, the adventure, and the people met along the way. That is what the car gave. Not speed, not status. Access. To places and people and experiences that don’t exist without the willingness to just go. The Overcrest Rally exists because driving one car on one empty road was enough to know that other people needed to feel it too. A community grew around it because they did.

#takethecar

Overcrest started with a rally of one. This 1972 911 was rebuilt by hand and driven over a hundred thousand miles since. Not show miles. Not trailer miles. Not “ice cream with the kids” miles. Miles earned on roads that didn’t promise to bring anything at all.

The car has crossed deserts at 105 degrees with no air conditioning. Braved ice storms at 10,000 feet. Sat on a ferry as the only vehicle crossing that afternoon. On the Lost Coast it was pushed flat out through switchbacks in the dark with a dying transmission and fog so thick the headlights were useless. Dry river beds, water crossings, dangerous switchbacks, any corner of the country the road would allow.

The destinations fade. The names of the highways blur. What stays is the moment. The hitchhiker you picked up. The lady at a down on its luck southern general store who made you a sandwich just because you said you were hungry. Parking thousands of feet above an infinite grid of farms at sunset and watching the light melt into an image a camera just cannot hold. Driving a road across the spine of a ridge with no barriers, no shoulder, and no one else around, watching your own shadow wave back from the cliff wall. Crossing empty vanishing point stretches where time was marked only by the passage of one shallow depression to another, the massive shadows of entire clouds laid out on the ground ahead.

These moments. The discovery, the hardship, the adventure, and the people met along the way. That is what the car gave. Not speed, not status. Access. To places and people and experiences that don’t exist without the willingness to just go. The Overcrest Rally exists because driving one car on one empty road was enough to know that other people needed to feel it too. A community grew around it because they did.

#takethecar

Overcrest started with a rally of one. This 1972 911 was rebuilt by hand and driven over a hundred thousand miles since. Not show miles. Not trailer miles. Not “ice cream with the kids” miles. Miles earned on roads that didn’t promise to bring anything at all.

The car has crossed deserts at 105 degrees with no air conditioning. Braved ice storms at 10,000 feet. Sat on a ferry as the only vehicle crossing that afternoon. On the Lost Coast it was pushed flat out through switchbacks in the dark with a dying transmission and fog so thick the headlights were useless. Dry river beds, water crossings, dangerous switchbacks, any corner of the country the road would allow.

The destinations fade. The names of the highways blur. What stays is the moment. The hitchhiker you picked up. The lady at a down on its luck southern general store who made you a sandwich just because you said you were hungry. Parking thousands of feet above an infinite grid of farms at sunset and watching the light melt into an image a camera just cannot hold. Driving a road across the spine of a ridge with no barriers, no shoulder, and no one else around, watching your own shadow wave back from the cliff wall. Crossing empty vanishing point stretches where time was marked only by the passage of one shallow depression to another, the massive shadows of entire clouds laid out on the ground ahead.

These moments. The discovery, the hardship, the adventure, and the people met along the way. That is what the car gave. Not speed, not status. Access. To places and people and experiences that don’t exist without the willingness to just go. The Overcrest Rally exists because driving one car on one empty road was enough to know that other people needed to feel it too. A community grew around it because they did.

#takethecar

Overcrest started with a rally of one. This 1972 911 was rebuilt by hand and driven over a hundred thousand miles since. Not show miles. Not trailer miles. Not “ice cream with the kids” miles. Miles earned on roads that didn’t promise to bring anything at all.

The car has crossed deserts at 105 degrees with no air conditioning. Braved ice storms at 10,000 feet. Sat on a ferry as the only vehicle crossing that afternoon. On the Lost Coast it was pushed flat out through switchbacks in the dark with a dying transmission and fog so thick the headlights were useless. Dry river beds, water crossings, dangerous switchbacks, any corner of the country the road would allow.

The destinations fade. The names of the highways blur. What stays is the moment. The hitchhiker you picked up. The lady at a down on its luck southern general store who made you a sandwich just because you said you were hungry. Parking thousands of feet above an infinite grid of farms at sunset and watching the light melt into an image a camera just cannot hold. Driving a road across the spine of a ridge with no barriers, no shoulder, and no one else around, watching your own shadow wave back from the cliff wall. Crossing empty vanishing point stretches where time was marked only by the passage of one shallow depression to another, the massive shadows of entire clouds laid out on the ground ahead.

These moments. The discovery, the hardship, the adventure, and the people met along the way. That is what the car gave. Not speed, not status. Access. To places and people and experiences that don’t exist without the willingness to just go. The Overcrest Rally exists because driving one car on one empty road was enough to know that other people needed to feel it too. A community grew around it because they did.

#takethecar

Overcrest started with a rally of one. This 1972 911 was rebuilt by hand and driven over a hundred thousand miles since. Not show miles. Not trailer miles. Not “ice cream with the kids” miles. Miles earned on roads that didn’t promise to bring anything at all.

The car has crossed deserts at 105 degrees with no air conditioning. Braved ice storms at 10,000 feet. Sat on a ferry as the only vehicle crossing that afternoon. On the Lost Coast it was pushed flat out through switchbacks in the dark with a dying transmission and fog so thick the headlights were useless. Dry river beds, water crossings, dangerous switchbacks, any corner of the country the road would allow.

The destinations fade. The names of the highways blur. What stays is the moment. The hitchhiker you picked up. The lady at a down on its luck southern general store who made you a sandwich just because you said you were hungry. Parking thousands of feet above an infinite grid of farms at sunset and watching the light melt into an image a camera just cannot hold. Driving a road across the spine of a ridge with no barriers, no shoulder, and no one else around, watching your own shadow wave back from the cliff wall. Crossing empty vanishing point stretches where time was marked only by the passage of one shallow depression to another, the massive shadows of entire clouds laid out on the ground ahead.

These moments. The discovery, the hardship, the adventure, and the people met along the way. That is what the car gave. Not speed, not status. Access. To places and people and experiences that don’t exist without the willingness to just go. The Overcrest Rally exists because driving one car on one empty road was enough to know that other people needed to feel it too. A community grew around it because they did.

#takethecar

Overcrest started with a rally of one. This 1972 911 was rebuilt by hand and driven over a hundred thousand miles since. Not show miles. Not trailer miles. Not “ice cream with the kids” miles. Miles earned on roads that didn’t promise to bring anything at all.

The car has crossed deserts at 105 degrees with no air conditioning. Braved ice storms at 10,000 feet. Sat on a ferry as the only vehicle crossing that afternoon. On the Lost Coast it was pushed flat out through switchbacks in the dark with a dying transmission and fog so thick the headlights were useless. Dry river beds, water crossings, dangerous switchbacks, any corner of the country the road would allow.

The destinations fade. The names of the highways blur. What stays is the moment. The hitchhiker you picked up. The lady at a down on its luck southern general store who made you a sandwich just because you said you were hungry. Parking thousands of feet above an infinite grid of farms at sunset and watching the light melt into an image a camera just cannot hold. Driving a road across the spine of a ridge with no barriers, no shoulder, and no one else around, watching your own shadow wave back from the cliff wall. Crossing empty vanishing point stretches where time was marked only by the passage of one shallow depression to another, the massive shadows of entire clouds laid out on the ground ahead.

These moments. The discovery, the hardship, the adventure, and the people met along the way. That is what the car gave. Not speed, not status. Access. To places and people and experiences that don’t exist without the willingness to just go. The Overcrest Rally exists because driving one car on one empty road was enough to know that other people needed to feel it too. A community grew around it because they did.

#takethecar

Overcrest started with a rally of one. This 1972 911 was rebuilt by hand and driven over a hundred thousand miles since. Not show miles. Not trailer miles. Not “ice cream with the kids” miles. Miles earned on roads that didn’t promise to bring anything at all.

The car has crossed deserts at 105 degrees with no air conditioning. Braved ice storms at 10,000 feet. Sat on a ferry as the only vehicle crossing that afternoon. On the Lost Coast it was pushed flat out through switchbacks in the dark with a dying transmission and fog so thick the headlights were useless. Dry river beds, water crossings, dangerous switchbacks, any corner of the country the road would allow.

The destinations fade. The names of the highways blur. What stays is the moment. The hitchhiker you picked up. The lady at a down on its luck southern general store who made you a sandwich just because you said you were hungry. Parking thousands of feet above an infinite grid of farms at sunset and watching the light melt into an image a camera just cannot hold. Driving a road across the spine of a ridge with no barriers, no shoulder, and no one else around, watching your own shadow wave back from the cliff wall. Crossing empty vanishing point stretches where time was marked only by the passage of one shallow depression to another, the massive shadows of entire clouds laid out on the ground ahead.

These moments. The discovery, the hardship, the adventure, and the people met along the way. That is what the car gave. Not speed, not status. Access. To places and people and experiences that don’t exist without the willingness to just go. The Overcrest Rally exists because driving one car on one empty road was enough to know that other people needed to feel it too. A community grew around it because they did.

#takethecar

Are you kidding me!? The Mercedes 500E is so vastly overrated at this price. Totally driven by the “Porsche” collab and a bit of celebrity. IMHO, by this measure the Audi RS2; which was far more collaborative, should be $750,000 or something. What are we doing!? Podcast fodder for sure.

This is your reminder to take the car 🚘

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

When it comes to packing a 46-year-old 911 for such a trip, tools come first. Vice-Grips, zip ties, and miscellaneous wiring are on the list, but I always forget the tape. When it comes to wrenches and sockets, the standard 10/13/17/19 rule applies, but the reality is that, if anything serious breaks on an old 911 outside of wiring or a fan belt, your odds of fixing it on the side of the road are slim.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure… 🔑

Excerpts from a 53-page feature in Issue 009
Words by @krisclewell
Photos by @krisclewell

Find more inspiring stories from the path seldom taken inside @000magzine. Subscribe today (link in bio).

#000magazine

This is your reminder to take the car 🚘

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

When it comes to packing a 46-year-old 911 for such a trip, tools come first. Vice-Grips, zip ties, and miscellaneous wiring are on the list, but I always forget the tape. When it comes to wrenches and sockets, the standard 10/13/17/19 rule applies, but the reality is that, if anything serious breaks on an old 911 outside of wiring or a fan belt, your odds of fixing it on the side of the road are slim.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure… 🔑

Excerpts from a 53-page feature in Issue 009
Words by @krisclewell
Photos by @krisclewell

Find more inspiring stories from the path seldom taken inside @000magzine. Subscribe today (link in bio).

#000magazine

This is your reminder to take the car 🚘

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

When it comes to packing a 46-year-old 911 for such a trip, tools come first. Vice-Grips, zip ties, and miscellaneous wiring are on the list, but I always forget the tape. When it comes to wrenches and sockets, the standard 10/13/17/19 rule applies, but the reality is that, if anything serious breaks on an old 911 outside of wiring or a fan belt, your odds of fixing it on the side of the road are slim.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure… 🔑

Excerpts from a 53-page feature in Issue 009
Words by @krisclewell
Photos by @krisclewell

Find more inspiring stories from the path seldom taken inside @000magzine. Subscribe today (link in bio).

#000magazine

This is your reminder to take the car 🚘

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

When it comes to packing a 46-year-old 911 for such a trip, tools come first. Vice-Grips, zip ties, and miscellaneous wiring are on the list, but I always forget the tape. When it comes to wrenches and sockets, the standard 10/13/17/19 rule applies, but the reality is that, if anything serious breaks on an old 911 outside of wiring or a fan belt, your odds of fixing it on the side of the road are slim.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure… 🔑

Excerpts from a 53-page feature in Issue 009
Words by @krisclewell
Photos by @krisclewell

Find more inspiring stories from the path seldom taken inside @000magzine. Subscribe today (link in bio).

#000magazine

This is your reminder to take the car 🚘

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

When it comes to packing a 46-year-old 911 for such a trip, tools come first. Vice-Grips, zip ties, and miscellaneous wiring are on the list, but I always forget the tape. When it comes to wrenches and sockets, the standard 10/13/17/19 rule applies, but the reality is that, if anything serious breaks on an old 911 outside of wiring or a fan belt, your odds of fixing it on the side of the road are slim.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure… 🔑

Excerpts from a 53-page feature in Issue 009
Words by @krisclewell
Photos by @krisclewell

Find more inspiring stories from the path seldom taken inside @000magzine. Subscribe today (link in bio).

#000magazine

This is your reminder to take the car 🚘

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

When it comes to packing a 46-year-old 911 for such a trip, tools come first. Vice-Grips, zip ties, and miscellaneous wiring are on the list, but I always forget the tape. When it comes to wrenches and sockets, the standard 10/13/17/19 rule applies, but the reality is that, if anything serious breaks on an old 911 outside of wiring or a fan belt, your odds of fixing it on the side of the road are slim.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure… 🔑

Excerpts from a 53-page feature in Issue 009
Words by @krisclewell
Photos by @krisclewell

Find more inspiring stories from the path seldom taken inside @000magzine. Subscribe today (link in bio).

#000magazine

This is your reminder to take the car 🚘

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

When it comes to packing a 46-year-old 911 for such a trip, tools come first. Vice-Grips, zip ties, and miscellaneous wiring are on the list, but I always forget the tape. When it comes to wrenches and sockets, the standard 10/13/17/19 rule applies, but the reality is that, if anything serious breaks on an old 911 outside of wiring or a fan belt, your odds of fixing it on the side of the road are slim.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure… 🔑

Excerpts from a 53-page feature in Issue 009
Words by @krisclewell
Photos by @krisclewell

Find more inspiring stories from the path seldom taken inside @000magzine. Subscribe today (link in bio).

#000magazine

This is your reminder to take the car 🚘

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

When it comes to packing a 46-year-old 911 for such a trip, tools come first. Vice-Grips, zip ties, and miscellaneous wiring are on the list, but I always forget the tape. When it comes to wrenches and sockets, the standard 10/13/17/19 rule applies, but the reality is that, if anything serious breaks on an old 911 outside of wiring or a fan belt, your odds of fixing it on the side of the road are slim.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure… 🔑

Excerpts from a 53-page feature in Issue 009
Words by @krisclewell
Photos by @krisclewell

Find more inspiring stories from the path seldom taken inside @000magzine. Subscribe today (link in bio).

#000magazine

This is your reminder to take the car 🚘

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

When it comes to packing a 46-year-old 911 for such a trip, tools come first. Vice-Grips, zip ties, and miscellaneous wiring are on the list, but I always forget the tape. When it comes to wrenches and sockets, the standard 10/13/17/19 rule applies, but the reality is that, if anything serious breaks on an old 911 outside of wiring or a fan belt, your odds of fixing it on the side of the road are slim.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure… 🔑

Excerpts from a 53-page feature in Issue 009
Words by @krisclewell
Photos by @krisclewell

Find more inspiring stories from the path seldom taken inside @000magzine. Subscribe today (link in bio).

#000magazine

This is your reminder to take the car 🚘

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

When it comes to packing a 46-year-old 911 for such a trip, tools come first. Vice-Grips, zip ties, and miscellaneous wiring are on the list, but I always forget the tape. When it comes to wrenches and sockets, the standard 10/13/17/19 rule applies, but the reality is that, if anything serious breaks on an old 911 outside of wiring or a fan belt, your odds of fixing it on the side of the road are slim.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure… 🔑

Excerpts from a 53-page feature in Issue 009
Words by @krisclewell
Photos by @krisclewell

Find more inspiring stories from the path seldom taken inside @000magzine. Subscribe today (link in bio).

#000magazine

This is your reminder to take the car 🚘

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

When it comes to packing a 46-year-old 911 for such a trip, tools come first. Vice-Grips, zip ties, and miscellaneous wiring are on the list, but I always forget the tape. When it comes to wrenches and sockets, the standard 10/13/17/19 rule applies, but the reality is that, if anything serious breaks on an old 911 outside of wiring or a fan belt, your odds of fixing it on the side of the road are slim.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure… 🔑

Excerpts from a 53-page feature in Issue 009
Words by @krisclewell
Photos by @krisclewell

Find more inspiring stories from the path seldom taken inside @000magzine. Subscribe today (link in bio).

#000magazine

This is your reminder to take the car 🚘

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

When it comes to packing a 46-year-old 911 for such a trip, tools come first. Vice-Grips, zip ties, and miscellaneous wiring are on the list, but I always forget the tape. When it comes to wrenches and sockets, the standard 10/13/17/19 rule applies, but the reality is that, if anything serious breaks on an old 911 outside of wiring or a fan belt, your odds of fixing it on the side of the road are slim.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure… 🔑

Excerpts from a 53-page feature in Issue 009
Words by @krisclewell
Photos by @krisclewell

Find more inspiring stories from the path seldom taken inside @000magzine. Subscribe today (link in bio).

#000magazine

This is your reminder to take the car 🚘

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

When it comes to packing a 46-year-old 911 for such a trip, tools come first. Vice-Grips, zip ties, and miscellaneous wiring are on the list, but I always forget the tape. When it comes to wrenches and sockets, the standard 10/13/17/19 rule applies, but the reality is that, if anything serious breaks on an old 911 outside of wiring or a fan belt, your odds of fixing it on the side of the road are slim.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure… 🔑

Excerpts from a 53-page feature in Issue 009
Words by @krisclewell
Photos by @krisclewell

Find more inspiring stories from the path seldom taken inside @000magzine. Subscribe today (link in bio).

#000magazine

This is your reminder to take the car 🚘

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

When it comes to packing a 46-year-old 911 for such a trip, tools come first. Vice-Grips, zip ties, and miscellaneous wiring are on the list, but I always forget the tape. When it comes to wrenches and sockets, the standard 10/13/17/19 rule applies, but the reality is that, if anything serious breaks on an old 911 outside of wiring or a fan belt, your odds of fixing it on the side of the road are slim.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure… 🔑

Excerpts from a 53-page feature in Issue 009
Words by @krisclewell
Photos by @krisclewell

Find more inspiring stories from the path seldom taken inside @000magzine. Subscribe today (link in bio).

#000magazine

This is your reminder to take the car 🚘

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

When it comes to packing a 46-year-old 911 for such a trip, tools come first. Vice-Grips, zip ties, and miscellaneous wiring are on the list, but I always forget the tape. When it comes to wrenches and sockets, the standard 10/13/17/19 rule applies, but the reality is that, if anything serious breaks on an old 911 outside of wiring or a fan belt, your odds of fixing it on the side of the road are slim.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure… 🔑

Excerpts from a 53-page feature in Issue 009
Words by @krisclewell
Photos by @krisclewell

Find more inspiring stories from the path seldom taken inside @000magzine. Subscribe today (link in bio).

#000magazine

This is your reminder to take the car 🚘

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

When it comes to packing a 46-year-old 911 for such a trip, tools come first. Vice-Grips, zip ties, and miscellaneous wiring are on the list, but I always forget the tape. When it comes to wrenches and sockets, the standard 10/13/17/19 rule applies, but the reality is that, if anything serious breaks on an old 911 outside of wiring or a fan belt, your odds of fixing it on the side of the road are slim.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure… 🔑

Excerpts from a 53-page feature in Issue 009
Words by @krisclewell
Photos by @krisclewell

Find more inspiring stories from the path seldom taken inside @000magzine. Subscribe today (link in bio).

#000magazine

This is your reminder to take the car 🚘

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

When it comes to packing a 46-year-old 911 for such a trip, tools come first. Vice-Grips, zip ties, and miscellaneous wiring are on the list, but I always forget the tape. When it comes to wrenches and sockets, the standard 10/13/17/19 rule applies, but the reality is that, if anything serious breaks on an old 911 outside of wiring or a fan belt, your odds of fixing it on the side of the road are slim.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure… 🔑

Excerpts from a 53-page feature in Issue 009
Words by @krisclewell
Photos by @krisclewell

Find more inspiring stories from the path seldom taken inside @000magzine. Subscribe today (link in bio).

#000magazine

This is your reminder to take the car 🚘

The question is always why? When it comes to trips like this, why do it at all? Why not take a plane? Why not stay home?

Why? For the smell of an air-cooled 911 engine, which comes up through the heat exchangers, a mixture of residual oil and superheated air. For the dust of gravel roads in your throat, or for crisp, cold, oxygen-deprived mountain air in your lungs. For a windshield that livestreams a rapidly changing, shifting world. For a steering wheel that swings back and forth like a swinging pocket watch, doing everything you want it to do.

When it comes to packing a 46-year-old 911 for such a trip, tools come first. Vice-Grips, zip ties, and miscellaneous wiring are on the list, but I always forget the tape. When it comes to wrenches and sockets, the standard 10/13/17/19 rule applies, but the reality is that, if anything serious breaks on an old 911 outside of wiring or a fan belt, your odds of fixing it on the side of the road are slim.

The story rolls out in front of you as you drive. The farther away you are from people, the better it gets. Someone, somewhere laid this road out for you. It’s yours to explore, yours to see, and yours to forget. Even as the memories fade, nostalgia glows like embers still warm in a dying fire, waiting to be rekindled by the next adventure… 🔑

Excerpts from a 53-page feature in Issue 009
Words by @krisclewell
Photos by @krisclewell

Find more inspiring stories from the path seldom taken inside @000magzine. Subscribe today (link in bio).

#000magazine

The definition of the middle of nowhere is where we stumbled across this cathedral of shoes. It’s a monument, but I’m not sure what to. Maybe it’s just something people contribute to now without knowing why. Maybe that’s the point. Does anyone know what the origin of this place is?

The definition of the middle of nowhere is where we stumbled across this cathedral of shoes. It’s a monument, but I’m not sure what to. Maybe it’s just something people contribute to now without knowing why. Maybe that’s the point. Does anyone know what the origin of this place is?

The definition of the middle of nowhere is where we stumbled across this cathedral of shoes. It’s a monument, but I’m not sure what to. Maybe it’s just something people contribute to now without knowing why. Maybe that’s the point. Does anyone know what the origin of this place is?

The definition of the middle of nowhere is where we stumbled across this cathedral of shoes. It’s a monument, but I’m not sure what to. Maybe it’s just something people contribute to now without knowing why. Maybe that’s the point. Does anyone know what the origin of this place is?

The definition of the middle of nowhere is where we stumbled across this cathedral of shoes. It’s a monument, but I’m not sure what to. Maybe it’s just something people contribute to now without knowing why. Maybe that’s the point. Does anyone know what the origin of this place is?

The definition of the middle of nowhere is where we stumbled across this cathedral of shoes. It’s a monument, but I’m not sure what to. Maybe it’s just something people contribute to now without knowing why. Maybe that’s the point. Does anyone know what the origin of this place is?

The definition of the middle of nowhere is where we stumbled across this cathedral of shoes. It’s a monument, but I’m not sure what to. Maybe it’s just something people contribute to now without knowing why. Maybe that’s the point. Does anyone know what the origin of this place is?

The definition of the middle of nowhere is where we stumbled across this cathedral of shoes. It’s a monument, but I’m not sure what to. Maybe it’s just something people contribute to now without knowing why. Maybe that’s the point. Does anyone know what the origin of this place is?

The definition of the middle of nowhere is where we stumbled across this cathedral of shoes. It’s a monument, but I’m not sure what to. Maybe it’s just something people contribute to now without knowing why. Maybe that’s the point. Does anyone know what the origin of this place is?

The definition of the middle of nowhere is where we stumbled across this cathedral of shoes. It’s a monument, but I’m not sure what to. Maybe it’s just something people contribute to now without knowing why. Maybe that’s the point. Does anyone know what the origin of this place is?

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142

This one isn’t just about the roads they found. It’s about the people who showed up along the way. The Volvo pulled strangers out of gas stations, gravel lots, and interstate heat waves. Folks who warned them about washed out stretches, shared hometown stories over cluttered countertops, pointed them toward the next turn, or just needed a ride to anywhere.

The article isn’t a love letter to the car. It’s a reminder that every great road is lined with people who make the journey what it is. The Volvo just happened to be the thing that connected them all.

Drive Tastefully®⁠

✍️ @krisclewell
📸 @krisclewell

Read the full article on Petrolicious.com via the link in our bio

#drivetastefully #petrolicious #volvo142