[Formerly Steve Wilkinson]

I had one of the very first Boxsters--press car--in the late '90s and was doing a Conde Nast Traveler "Great Drive" in Northern California with it. Crossing a long, two-lane, humpbacked bridge with solid guardrails--I was too stupid to realize it was a bridge and not the road to infinity--and I pulled out to pass a pickup, and I was doing about 70 when a Buick appeared over the top of the bridge about 20 car-lengths ahead. Since I had the top down, I clearly heard the pickup driver lock his brakes to allow me to pull back in. He was _way_ more competent a driver than I was at that moment. Probably still is.

My wife was in the right seat, and to this day I have bad dreams about how close we came to an idiotic head-on, all my fault.