This past weekend, I stopped by Willow Springs raceway to see what over a hundred Volkswagen R32s would look like. They look, well, like over a hundred R32s.
But the sound. Oh, the sound. See, normally when you pull up to the paddock of a hot racetrack, your ears are assaulted with the maniacal roar of pissed-off engines. Some sound fantastic (ever hear a Ferrari at full bore?) and some sound painful (ever hear a Ford Duratec at full bore?)
But when every car on the track is a mellifluous R32, there is no painful. There is no assault, there is no roar. Each car continually sends your ears a gift basket containing a warm, burbly, Pavarotti-gurgling-with-wine aria that is so unmistakably, magically, VR6.
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