By Nate Risch
09/19/2016
Once upon a time, when both my E36 M3 and I were newer, we did a lot of driving schools. That’s what we called them back then: driving schools. Now some refer to them as HPDEs, short for high-performance driver education.
By Nate Risch
09/19/2016
Last week, as part of the story of my E9 being used in a truly memorable wedding photo with a beautiful bride draped across the hood of the car, I said “it was clearly the 3.0CSi’s turn [for a road trip]. It had seen very little road time since the Great Drenching Event of 2013, when I drove it to the Vintage in Winston-Salem, and during the 800-mile trek, hit 500 miles of torrential unrelenting rain.”
By Nate Risch
09/11/2016
Okay, this may be the California Wine Country, but I have fallen in with a tribe of ne’er-do-wells and miscreants of the old school, the ones who love cars and driving, but who share a certain disdain for the brie-and-Champagne crowd who clot the roads of Monterey. This is not some tutti-tutti pinkie-in-the-air concours affair, nor is it a rally.
By Nate Risch
09/11/2016
I’ve known my friend John since high school, and his wife, Elizabeth, since college. They are my most special friends. We and Maire Anne were all at UMass Amherst together. For those of you who have read my first book or seen one of my presentations, in the photo where there are four people standing in front of “the band bus” (the blue half-size International school bus I maintained for the band I was in), John and Elizabeth are the two standing on the left.
By Nate Risch
09/04/2016
A few weeks back, during an otherwise typical Saturday, an automotive oddity gave me a figurative slap across the face. I suspect that you know the situation: those short, impactful events when cars, their drivers, and their contents are etched forever into your memory.
