The World According to Bertie - Alexander Hanchett Smith [148]
‘Great,’ said Bruce, bending down to look in the window.
‘Maximum torque (Nm) at rpm in the Turbo is 620 Nm (with overboot to 680 Nm),’ the dealer began. He paused, while Bruce absorbed this information. ‘Whereas, with the GT3– and that red car over there, that’s a GT3– the max torque is 405 Nm. Also,’ and here he raised a finger, ‘also, there’s a different compression ratio. 9.0:1 in the Turbo, and 12.0:1 in the GT3. Mind you, there’s a bottom line.’
‘There always is,’ said Bruce.
‘Yes,’ said the dealer. ‘The bottom line is this: the maximum speed in each case is 193 mph. Tops. That’s the max.’
Bruce looked thoughtful. ‘Not bad,’ he said.
The dealer nodded. ‘Dr Porsche is working on pushing that up a bit, but for the time being, 193 mph it is.’
Bruce opened the door of the silver car and slid into the driver’s seat. He held the leather-covered steering wheel and gazed at the array of instruments. This was very good. At 193 miles per hour, it would take him how long to reach Glasgow from Edinburgh? That was about three miles a minute, which meant that one would divide forty by three, to get just over thirteen. So he could reach Glasgow in fourteen minutes!
Bruce looked up at the dealer, who was standing by the door, looking down on him, smiling. ‘Could we take this for a test drive?’ he asked.
The dealer nodded. ‘Of course. If you hold on a moment, I’ll get the key.’
Bruce moved his hands gently up and down the steering wheel, and then felt the gear lever. The head of the lever was covered with leather and silver, with a little Porsche symbol on the top. The dealer came back, lowered himself into the passenger seat and passed the keys over to Bruce. ‘It’s all yours,’ he said.
Bruce switched on the engine and listened appreciatively to the throaty roar which resulted. ‘You can get that sound as a ring-tone for your mobile phone,’ said the dealer. ‘That’s what I have on my own phone.’
‘Great,’ said Bruce.
‘All right,’ said the dealer. ‘Let’s take her out.’
The silver car slipped out onto the road outside the showroom. Bruce felt the power of the engine as he pressed down on the accelerator, a strong, throbbing feeling, as if there were something live within the machine, some great, stirring creature. He pressed the accelerator down further, and the roar, and the power, grew.
They soon found themselves up in the Braids, where the comparatively empty roads allowed Bruce to increase his speed. This was heady, intoxicating.
‘Feel the G-forces!’ said Bruce, giving the engine its head for a few seconds.
‘Serious,’ said the dealer. ‘Really serious G-forces.’
They turned round, the car engine making a satisfactory growl even at idling speed. Then they drove back to the showroom.
‘Fantastic,’ said Bruce. ‘That’s the one.’
The salesman looked awkward, and Bruce frowned. Had he already sold that model – in which case, what was the point of letting him take the vehicle out for a test drive?
‘Well, actually,’ the dealer began, ‘your father-in-law, if I may call him that, has already chosen something for you.’
Bruce looked puzzled. ‘Chosen?’
‘Yes,’ said the dealer. ‘You’re to get a GT3, I’m afraid. The red one over there.’
Bruce bit his lip. ‘Then why let me drive the Turbo?’
The dealer smiled. ‘I wanted you to have the best Porsche experience you could,’ he said. ‘And that’s with the Turbo. But the GT3 is still a great car.’
Bruce turned away. It had suddenly occurred to him that he was walking into something for which he might not have bargained. Trapped, he thought; I’m trapped. But was it better, he wondered, to be trapped with a Porsche or not trapped without a Porsche?
The former, he decided.
97. Do we Have to Love our Neighbour?
Domenica Macdonald looked at her watch. Five o’clock in the afternoon. As Lorca observed, she thought. At that terrible five in the afternoon. A las cinco de la tarde. It was five in the after-noon by all the clocks, said Lorca. And five sounded so sinister, so