The Journey of Stella

A cold breeze flowed through Will's fingertips as the salted air wisped off from the Pacific Ocean crisping each breath of his lungs. The faint smell of seaweed pierced his nostrils as he floored the gas on the gleaming red Targa-Top Porsche 911 around a shallow right bend, feeling the vast mechanical grip of the sport tires as he flew around another crest on Highway 101. The seductive roar of the Porsche's Flat-6 engine was reverberating along the sandstone cliffside, echoing the hauntingly beautiful symphony of balanced cylinders perfectly in rotation at 6,000 revolutions per minute. Approached a cambered left-hand turn, Will fluttered his right toe on the brake pedal slowing the 911 into the corner, simultaneously pushing the clutch pedal to the sweet spot as he downshifted from 3rd gear to 2nd. The RPMs jumped up again with a rush of controlled violence. The Porsche was balancing the fine line of chaos and order every time the balls of his feet work against the cold steel pedals. Will knew that there was no other way to relish the beauty of a classic German sports car than on a sunny mid-afternoon where the rays of light flashed brilliantly reflecting the vast detail job his father and him had performed the prior weekend on the 911. A spotless, mirror-like finish on the Porsche's brilliantly eye-catching red paint was completed as a sign of respect to the last drive Will and his father will ever feel with that German beauty.

Will's father, Jack, sat with a controlled tenseness in the passenger seat of the Porsche watching his son brilliantly thrash the classic 911. Jack stared at the glimmering gold badge centered on the steering wheel whilst imagining the renowned Stuttgart engineers back in Germany and what their reaction would be. Engineers who had spent countless hours full of trials and tribulations working out every single kink in the Porsche, smirking and knowing that if they were to witness his son driving that they would be filled with a deep sense of accomplishment. Jack sat silently, ever so slightly glancing over at Will's intensely-focused gaze onto the horizon. He peered down to the right seat cushion between Will and the center console and had caught his eye of a weathered, semi-matte Moleskin journal tucked away neatly. Its top half peered ever so slightly above the seat with only a partial word able to be read: The Journe-". A controlled jolt forward as the seatbelt dug into his stomach took Jack's eyes away from the broken-in journal. Jack glanced over again as Will blazed through another hard left turn. The sun pierced Jack's eyes rounding the corner in which he took the moment to attempt to catch another peek at the Moleskin. The sharp corner dislodged the weathered journal to reveal a single title, "The Journey of Stella".

Confusion had set in for Jack regarding the mysterious journal tucked away between the seats. What was his son holding within those pages, and who was Stella? Jack's mind wandered slightly, but came back to no determination of what it even slightly resembled. Will ever so softly smoothed his foot on the brake pedal, downshifting from 4th gear to 3rd and continued the motion to coast into the coastal town of Pacific City. The road cautioned of potential pedestrians ahead in which Will slowed down, expecting unaware wayfarers to be rushing across the road towards the beach, completely unaware of the unequivocally bright red Porsche 911 cruising down the main road. Jack nods to Will and prods him to take a left into the crusty, sand-blown, and run-down oceanfront parking lot. Perfect timing, Jack thought to himself as a silver van on the front row closest to the Pacific Ocean kicked on its reverse lights. The van peeled out of the spot, revealing a mother turned towards the back passenger seat having a stern conversation with a young child. A small exhale escaped Jack's nose as Deja-vu gleaned over him, remembering of the times of his wife scolding Will for erratic behavior after leaving public places. Will recognized the opportunity of a premier parking spot and coasted right in, finally settling in the pavement monster to its final resting place.

Will hesitated as he held his hand on the shift lever, took it out of 1st gear and shook it sideways a few times to ensure it was in neutral. With his foot pressed on the brake, Will pulled the emergency brake with extra gusto and clicked the brake into place. His sweaty hands clammed as he sat in the 911's driver seat, taking in the view of the Haystack Rock, and reflecting on the last drive that his father and him were ever having together in the Porsche. Jack felt the silence and tension as both father and son had bittersweet butterflies tugging at their stomachs. Jack, who recently battled financial hardship due to his company downsizing, had made the tough decision to sell his Porsche 911 in order to keep his family afloat. A relic within the family, even before Will's birth, the Porsche had been around since Jack climbed the corporate ladder and worked tirelessly to secure his families' financial freedom. Even his wife Anne tried finding a way to garage it and brainstorm other ways to come up with a steady flow of cash. Grasping onto the memories of the 911, especially the one of blazing through the streets of Portland as Anne's water broke as he rushed to get to the hospital for Will's birth, Jack has been through it all with this car. It was not just a hunk of aluminum from Germany, it encompassed his entire families lineage and has been there through every up and down. From taking weekend cruises with the family, date nights with Anne, solo expeditions of carving through backroads at questionable speeds, the Porsche 911 understood the whole legacy of his family. It was a prancing horse in its stall waiting to be unleashed whenever its master called upon it. It begged and yearned for more; canyons, backroads, side streets, cruises... it was ready.

Now it is ready to begin a new journey with another family. Although Jack was pained to sell the Porsche, he took extra care of finding a buyer who cared for and would accept the passing of the torch of this fine machine and continue its beautiful heritage. With one story coming to a close, another arises from the ashes of the prior. A new birth for the 911. The new owner pulled around the corner in a vintage 1980's Mercedes coupe with the top down as well. A classy choice as Jack could tell that his meticulously detailed and cleaned Mercedes showed promise that he sought out the right buyer for his trusted steed.

Jack flagged him over after the new owner had paced through the parking lot, trying to find a space well away from any sort of bozo who might lay a door ding on the side of his freshly-waxed coupe. The new owner and his wife approached and shook hands firmly with Jack, and leaned over to show his respect for Will with another crisp handshake. While details of the specifications and other jibber jabber was exchanged between Jack and the new owner, Will slipped away to open the driver-side door and peered in between the seats to see the journal again. He fished it out and snapped the string on the Moleskin, which he tended to do without much thought for simplistic gratification. He took the band off around the journal and glanced over his pages one after another, making sure everything was in order.

Anne texted Will that she would arrive within the hour, giving Jack and Will approximately 30 minutes to kill until she had arrived to pick up both of them. Jack sealed the deal beforehand with a wire transfer, so the ceremonious gifting of the keys was inevitable. Will walked around the Porsche in the final minutes of conversation, reliving all the memories he had of his father driving him around, showing him how to change the spare tire, change oil, and nerding out about Porsche history and explaining which models were better and why. Will crouched down near the bonnet to see the shimmering gold badge bestowed on the front of the 911 so proudly, getting lost in thought as he stared at the prancing horse on the front.

He snapped back out of it and rested his still clammy hand on the hood, leaving a small imprint. He took off his hand and walked back towards Jack, who gave one last shake to the new owner and released the key from his grip. The new owner without hesitation and stirred up with excitement, glided over to the 911's driver side door and opened it up. He shuffled in awkwardly trying to find his proper seating and took a moment to get comfortable. A moment passed before the beautiful Flat-6 Porsche engine fired up again. The new owner rolled down the window and gave a casual and free-spirited wave to Jack and Will, and reversed out of the spot. He fumbled around with the clutch for a moment, trying to find the sweet spot and finally coasted on forward. The engine RPM picked up slightly and he rolled toward the main road. Looking both ways and waiting for pedestrians to finish crossing up the street, the new owner gassed the Porsche 911 hard onto the main road, lending out one last rhythmic melody.

Jack looked for a moment on until the Porsche was out of sight, then another moment when it was no longer heard. He turned around to find Will standing there with his arms crossed, holding a weathered journal. Will asked his Dad to take a look at a project he had been working on for the past few years. Jack obliged and took the journal into his hand, slightly heavier than he was expecting for such a sleek little journal. He peeled open the first page to find a picture of Will, maybe 6 years old with his front left tooth missing, hanging out of the passenger side window grinning ear-to-ear. Jack kept flipping the pages to reveal a timeline of old photos Anne had helped him gather of his time growing up with the Porsche. Car shows, washing the 911 in the driveway, Will holding a flashlight as a much younger Jack peered into the engine bay to troubleshoot, and so forth. The end page revealed a very simple message that brought a quivering lip and a tear to Jack's eye:

"It was never about the Porsche dad, it was always about us and the memories it brought us. Thank you for always taking the time to show me what it really means to be a good role model. I hope I can share the same bond with my child someday. I love you."

-Will

Jack closed the journal and wrapped the band around ensuring it's sealed. He pulled his son close to him and gave him a hug. Holding onto the moment to make sure he captures every feeling. The Porsche may be gone, but the bond he felt with his son that day grew that much closer. A feeling that no roaring of an engine could ever come close to.