The Long Way Home
26 April 2026
The 992 GT3. The journey above all.
Betim isn't the type to talk about a car before he owns it. No posts, no long threads. The idea had been sitting there for years, tucked in the back of his mind. And when the right car showed up in the right spec, the decision took about ten seconds.
Betim's story doesn't really start with Porsche. It starts with his brother.
He was young back then. His brother was already deep into it: the cars, the racing, the videos watched late into the night, the details only enthusiasts notice. And Betim got pulled in just by being there. Watching. Listening. Asking the questions little brothers ask when an older sibling is obsessed with something they don't quite understand yet. He didn't know it at the time, but those moments built everything. At some point it stopped being his brother's passion. It became his own. And once that shift happened, it never really let go.
For years, the Porsche sat somewhere in the back of his head. Not obsessively. Not loudly. Just always there. The motorsport side had hooked him from the start: the racing, the sound of a flat six at full throttle, the brand's history, that silhouette refined over decades without ever losing what makes it a 911. Owning one was that quiet dream you don't shout about. He didn't talk about it constantly. He didn't post about it. He kept it folded up somewhere and kept moving forward.
When the time came to look seriously, the chassis was never in question. It would be a 911. The only thing that took time was the spec. He didn't want a colour you see in every parking lot, at every meet, in every video. No forgettable grey. No dealer white. He wanted something you'd recognise as his car on sight. He researched, compared, walked away, came back. Eventually narrowed it to four colours. And the moment he saw the car in person in that spec, he knew. No debate, no doubt, no "maybe I should keep looking." That was it.
The memory he keeps coming back to is a drive over the Grimsel and the Furka with the Alpinedrive crew. Anyone who's driven those passes knows what they do to a car like this. The bends never stop, the elevation change is brutal, the scenery barely looks real, and the sound of a GT3 bouncing off rock walls stays with you. You can almost hear it just thinking about it. He wasn't alone either, surrounded by other cars he respected, people who understood what they were doing up there. He doesn't try to make it bigger than it was. He calls it a fun, intense day. But the way he talks about it says something else: that day is what made everything click into place. The one that justified years of waiting.
His favourite drives aren't the big crossings though. It's the night. When the roads empty out and the world goes quiet, that's when the GT3 gets his full attention. No traffic. No background noise. Just the engine, the road, and the kind of headspace you only find once everyone else is gone. He loves that. The car gets to be itself, and so does he.
For someone this involved, he's surprisingly level headed about what the car actually means. "Probably the journey more than the car," he says. That's not false modesty; he went out and bought a GT3, the car matters. But in his view, a better car simply makes for a better journey. One feeds the other. The car isn't the point. The car is the reason to leave, to plan the route, to get up early, to take the long way home. Without the journey, the car is an expensive object sitting in a garage. With the right journey, it's something else entirely.
"The car isn't the point. The car is the reason to leave."
That same level headedness shows up in the advice he gives. If you're after one of these cars, don't put every last penny into the purchase. Keep ten or twenty percent aside. Things come up: work the previous owner never mentioned, unplanned servicing, the small surprises that come with a car at this level. He's not trying to put anyone off. He's just being honest. He's been around the scene long enough to know what actually ruins the experience, and it's almost never the car itself. It's the financial pressure that follows.
The next car doesn't have a name yet. But it's out there somewhere.
He's already thinking about what comes next. Property, a few assets, rentals, something that keeps working when he isn't. He's not the type to stop once he's hit a goal; he's already looking at the next one. There will probably be another car at some point, but he doesn't know which one yet. Maybe another Porsche. Maybe something completely different. He's not choosing yet. He's keeping his eyes open and waiting for the right thing to show up.
Which is very him, actually. He's not sentimental about machines. "If I get a good chance to drive something better than the last car, I take it straight away." No hesitation. No big speech about what the GT3 means to him. That's just the answer. He loves the car. He loves driving. But he isn't married to either one, because there's always another road, another car, and another version of this same story waiting on the other side.
For now, the 992 GT3 is exactly where it should be. Empty roads at night. Mountain passes on weekends. A spec chosen because it looks like him, parked outside because he earned it. The same kid who used to follow his brother around, asking questions, taking it all in. Just behind the wheel this time.
And the dream he kept folded up somewhere all those years? It isn't a dream anymore. It's parked in his garage.
