One of the few flights I intend to take this year will be in a few weeks time. The plane will land at Oslo airport. Myself and three pals will then hire a shed from Wrent-a-Wreck and drive four hours north to a frozen lake. Here we will meet a man with what looks like a ratty old 70s Porsche 911 rally car, but which is in fact one of the most impressive machines I’ll ever have the pleasure of driving.
Driving a RWD rally car on ice, with decent studded tyres is to people like you and me what Petrus is to wine buffs, and a night at the Fat Duck is for tubby gourmands. It doesn’t come any better: vast slip angles and soft snow banks rounded-off with lashings of Elk burger and potent Norwegian lager. Now after me:
You are my Petter, my Petter Solberg, you make me happy, when skies are grey, on snow and gravel, flat out you travel, oh please don’t take my Petter away.