Scale Tale: Did The International Car Of Mystery Fall To Mini Me?

It was 1969, and Austin was using his powers to spread Mini mania the world over, but there were eyes watching. It was decided that I, Mini Me, was to meet with Austin and trick him to sign over manufacturing rights of Minis the world over, and get them all to serve as official Dr. Evil getaway cars. So I was transported in the time machine from the Underground Lair down to a London parking lot, and emerged excitedly as I'm known and prone to, "I'm Mini Me!""No!", the famous spy car argued, "Mini me!""Okay, Mini you.""No, Mini you!""Ha, I told you, Mini Me!", I exclaimed with satisfaction, having established authority with all the slyness befitting the super mini-villain that I was. Or so I thought.

I sat down next to him and thought I'd pose as well for the paparazzi that had gathered. "Get out of the way!","Move, moron!", and such other pleasantries they yelled, sounding unimpressed for some reason at my improvisation for the lens. "You don't know what you're missing", I warned, "Mini Me got more go than Austin." "Mojo, dufus!", said one burly photographer, and pushed me out the way very easily.

I picked myself up and looked for a vantage point away from these uncouth creatures, to see if I could judge Austin's size better, as he would need to be able to carry the... "One-Million-Dollars"... usual ransom requirement, and at full tilt. Should be just about possible. Maybe Michael Caine will have an opinion, I thought, seeing as how the Italian Job had just hit town, and rang from the min-iPhone. "How'd you get this number, you  tit?", he bellowed, "Call again and I'll blow your bloody nose off!"

So I pushed my way again to the front of the media hounding Austin, thinking that I'd get his signature on the Dr. Evil letterhead while he was distracted. "I heard you won the Monte Carlo Rally four times, and managed to catch your new movie yesterday too. Could I have your autograph on this piece of paper?", I asked with an innocent smile, knowing if he signed along the dotted line, Austin would waive over the Mini's production rights and be Dr. Evil's forever. "So you want an Auto Graph, he he. But I don't have a pen, man," said the famous car. I hurriedly felt around in my pockets, and thankfully found one. "Here you go, Austin. Will you work with us? We're... "evil masterminds"... and will cut you in of course", I said, "You'll get, wait for it... "One-Hundred-Dollars"... Buhaha buhahaha buhahahahaha buhahahahaha buhahahahahahahahahaha!"

"Austin may be small, though I've got a 1.3-litre under my hood that lets me dance circles around even the Shaguar in the twisties. But yes, I've been on the lookout for work, and a hundred dollars sounds good." He picked up the pen, when suddenly, "Don't sign that!", cried one of the women waiting for Austin's autograph, "I work for the Ora Lee Gals, and couldn't miss Dr. Evil's letterhead. Says here they're gonna make you sign your company away, Mr. Powers, part of Dr. Evil's plan of... "Taking-Austin-Over"... "Groovy baby, how do I thank you?" She whispered something in his ear, "Growrrr!" he said, with a cheeky grin. "But, but...", I began to question dumbfounded, but it was too late. "Because I'm shagadelic, baby, everyone wants the International Car Of Mystery.  You'd best leave, Mini Me, 'cause I'm going downtown."

THREE MONTHS LATER
I was back in Dr. Evil's Underground Lair, and after failing miserably to transfer Austin's power to the evil side, we were plotting a... "Comeback-Plan"..., which included invisible letterhead, amongst other details. And Powers? Well, he was on the road again, with the same Ora Lee Gal at the wheel. They now drive all over the world posing for cameras and gracing auto shows and collector clubs that need his classic Mojo. Dr. Evil promised us he's not done yet, and vows to come back and get Austin under him for good. But for now, the world remains the groovy place it's meant to be and continues to turn to Austin's power when they need the classic Mini...

Scale Tale: Pure Porsche

You know something's very, very right when your emotions are stirred at the very mention of a company. Porsche is that to me. After three decades of watching the world's best sports car company evolve so successfully (Le Mans 2015 and 2016 notwithstanding), yet remain so true to its rich heritage, I thought it was finally time to tap into the savings and pick me aPorsche 911. Because everyone should own one at least once in their lives.

This wasn't my first though. The love affair goes back to when I was maybe seven or eight - a cherry red Targa. She was quick, and would spin the rears with the slightest dab of the throttle. Only if the batteries were new and you ran behind with the cabled remote control though... But I could recognise its timeless profile even earlier, from Porsche literature that my father, a mechanical engineer (and 928 die-harder), had brought back from a business trip to Germany in the early-80s.

The 2010 997 GT3 RS was the model I homed in on, because of that manual box connecting me to its 444 manic ponies, and the stripped out, focused interior. The stunning orange and black hue brew did no harm to the decision either. But the biggest reason for the choice was the sticker of 200 bucks that didn't break the bank, just the piggy..