Ridge Boxster Summit:
Picture this. It's dusk in North Carolina's Blue Ridge Mountains.
You're winding along a road that, until just this moment, you'd only
experienced in your dreams. From time to time, the canopy of trees
that cloaks the snaking asphalt parts to let a sliver of moonlight
All you hear is a rising and falling of the engine's
revs. All you see is a wickedly winding white line that separates
you from the darkness. All you feel is a crisp evening breeze
rushing through your hair.
It's been five minutes since you
reached the mountain pass and started down the northern side; it
seems like only a few precious seconds. Suddenly, you burst from the
protective grasp of the maples into the expanse of valley that spans
toward Little Switzerland. The ribbon of road straightens, and you feel
your right foot push reflexively to the floor. The engine's song
climbs sweetly, and the stiffening wind chills the back of your
In your headlights, wisps of steam curl upward, the
road wet from a recent shower. But now the clouds have parted. In
front of you, the brilliant moon illuminates Boxsters as far as your
eyes can see. Behind you, it's the same.
Can you picture it?
You should experience it. Blue Ridge Boxster Summit...
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