By a guy in a big crew-cab diesel pickup who almost ran over me. He squeezed around next to me (narrowly avoiding the rear corner of my car) and asked if I'd sell. The light had turned green, so I just yelled "NO Way!" and laid down some rubber. He caught me at the next light and got out of his truck (making me think I might have pissed him off) and handed me his card, saying "Let me know if you change your mind. Is that a '94 or '95?" Well, close enough - it's a '93. Turns out he's a Porsche race driver and team owner. HA!
It's always nice to be recognized (by the right people).
It's always nice to be recognized (by the right people).
