So there we were, me and photographer Klaus Schnitzer, wandering around the north coast of Spain in a 428i Gran Coupé. Yes, that’s right—it’s the two-liter four-banger. And since the car is also available with the N55 six-cylinder three-liter turbo, you might get the same first impression: four cylinders? Eeeeew. And without a clutch pedal to boot.
“Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines!” Even before the shiver can finish its way up your spine, it begins: cacophony, dissonance. Like professional musicians tuning their instruments before the performance, 33 drivers play their blaring, puffing, snorting instruments, blasting out the clean remnants of combusted ethanol and turbocharged air.
When the rain moves into South Carolina, it really moves in. It’s not like the faint sprinkle of precipitation that I’d rather deal with, it’s what they call a gully-washer. To be phonetically correct, it’s a gurlee-weersher, but that’s not the point. Just as the Morton Salt canisters claim, when it rains, it pours.
Summer is just around the corner, and that means racing season is in full swing. I am a huge fan of racing, whether behind the wheel or in front of the TV screen. I have watched racing for a long time, but it wasn’t until recently that I fell in love with going to race tracks to watch racing in person.
In a month and a half, Betty and I will load the X535d and head west to Beaver Creek, Colorado, for Oktoberfest 2014. Each year, Oktoberfest always leads our “can’t miss” list of possible vacations. This year’s gathering is something of an anniversary: It will be my 20th Oktoberfest—in a row.