A few years ago I met a guy named Steve and it became quickly apparent that we both shared a zeal for cars, speed, adventure, people, and family. With all of those similarities, we became instant friends. We’ve stayed in touch, and on a fast and fun drive we went on last winter, he mentioned that he was planning on attending a vintage Porsche rally in West Virginia later in the year. Being the curious car lover I am, I began probing him about how the event was organized, the people who’d be there, and blah, blah, blah. Instead of answering all of my questions in detail, he simply said, “You should come—you can be my co-driver.” After confirming that he was serious in his offer and getting clearance from The Law (my wife), I began making arrangements to go to West Virginia in the late spring.
The first person I met when I landed in Lewisburg was my shuttle driver, who was fitted with a felt green brimmed hat and a mellow disposition to go along with it. Andrew, as I’d come to know him, was a treasure trove of information about the region, and as he drove the 70 miles to the headquarters of the event at Snowshoe, he kindly educated me thoroughly on the history of the area I was visiting. As soon as we turned out of the airport parking lot, it was evident why the organizers of the Ruchlos Rally chose to host their event there. The area is lush with greenery and covered with ribbons of sinuous asphalt that blanket the mountains and valleys smoothly as elevation taunts tires and suspensions by ascending and descending playfully. Our base camp for the weekend was Snowshoe ski resort—a place that I’d read about, but had never visited. With a base elevation of 4,800 feet, it’s easy to dismiss it as insignificant when compared to more popular ski destinations, but once one sees the property in person, its appeal is undeniable. Instead of being located at the bottom of the slopes the way all of the lodges that I’d been to were situated, Snowshoe’s main lodge and village are at the top of the mountain (which provided me with a view of a lift chair directly outside of my room at the Alleghany Springs lodge). This arrangement provides visitors with the pleasure of being at the top of the mountain for some of the most beautiful sunsets that I’ve ever seen. It also made it easy for dozens of Porsches to add beauty to the landscape without trying very hard.
The first two attendees that Steve introduced me to that afternoon were from Chicago. As the afternoon became evening, a caravan of about 25 cars and drivers trickled in from Chicago. The Ruchlos organizers had planned a meet and greet, and since the majority of the people were on hand, the event was officially underway. It was great to hear the car stories that accompanied the cars, and to see how much variety was on-hand amongst the participants and their machines. Even though it was technically a vintage Porsche rally, it was clear that all ages and models were welcome—to that point, the bookends of the weekend were a 1963 356 and a 2020 911 Carrera S. The chariot that Steve and I would be enjoying arrived a bit later in the evening via transporter. Watching his 1967 911 R replica being unloaded under the colorful dusk sky was a treat for all who love the silhouette of the world’s most popular race car, and as soon as the car was on the ground, a group of admirers formed a circle around it. The energy was as pure as it was present, and we hadn’t even driven a mile yet. To paraphrase the feelings of Prince Akeem when he landed in Queens, I was very happy to be there (if you have no idea what I’m talking about, watch the original “Coming to America).
The next morning we quickly chose one of the pre-coordinated route that the organizers had planned (major kudos to them, as they had different levels of difficulty and distance charted out, along with an app that each driver could download to help navigate through the unfamiliar territory) and left Snowshoe with a group of excited drivers. Plunging down the mountain with six horizontally opposed cylinders firing behind our seats, a sense of immediate gratification overcame Steve and I. For the rest of the weekend, I’d find myself exclaiming expletives spontaneously in response to the feedback our car provided and the sheer beauty of the terrain we were traversing with the sole purpose of fun on our minds. We started out on I-66 (not to be confused with the Historic Route 66) and soaked up the sounds of flat sixes echoing throughout the dense forest. Once we turned off the main roadway, we ventured on stretches of road that were clearly only traveled by people who lived in the area (one snaking as a single direction, single lane road for approximately 20 miles through the dense trees), and subsequently became one with the car as we did. With each turn, rise, and fall, our sense of wonderment elevated, causing our wayward conversations to be interrupted frequently with spurts of laughter, sighs, and cusswords at any given moment.
To my delight, this high we experienced lasted the remainder of that day, and the entire next day. A couple of Steve’s friends had cruised in from Kansas City, and we stayed together for the rest of the weekend. One thing that I loved about the Ruchlos was that it was very relaxed. If one felt the desire to go on a seven hour drive when they started their day, there were drivers who were on that page, and if one wanted to relax and roll for a 90 minute drive, there were cars to accompany those adventures as well. Another element that added to the “I love this” vibe was the sense of camaraderie that was on full display amongst the rally’s participants. When a few of the cars had mechanical issues, there was literally a line of people who volunteered and ultimately helped with everything from providing tools to replacing parts—all while being as encouraging as any good friend would be during a time of crisis. The whole weekend was like a Porsche People lovefest, and I was so happy to be a part of it.
As the event wrapped up, the participants began discussing dates they had planned in the future, and it was certain that almost everyone would cross paths again. Most of the drivers packed up and drove back to wherever they’d come from, while Steve’s car and a handful of others were trucked back to their respective resting places. In two days we drove about 400 miles in “our” 911 R clone, and our relationships had grown tighter with the car, as they had with each other. The Ruchlos Rally was a truly enjoyable introduction into this phase of ThisFastLife, and I look forward to participating in more events of this nature in the future.
*Special thanks to Steve, Ryan, Rueben, Eliot, and MD for being so welcoming, and to Andrew and the woman in the Lewisburg airport for showing me love when I needed a helping hand on my way out of their region.
