Betim's story doesn't really start with the Porsche. It starts with his brother.

He was a kid back then. His brother was already deep into cars, properly in it, the racing, the motorsport, the late-night videos, the small details only car people care about. And Betim got pulled in just by being around it. Watching. Listening. Asking the kind of questions little brothers ask when their older brother is into something they don't fully understand yet. He didn't know it at the time, but those small moments were the foundation of everything that came later. At some point it stopped being his brother's hobby. It became his own. And once that switch flipped, it never really turned off.

For most of his life, Porsche was always sitting somewhere in the back of his head. It wasn't loud. It wasn't a daily obsession. But it was always there. The motorsport side especially pulled him in. The racing, the sound of a flat-six at full song, the history of it, the way the same shape has been refined over decades without ever losing what makes it a 911. Owning one was that quiet little dream he never made a big deal out of. He didn't talk about it constantly. He didn't post about it. He just kept it folded up somewhere, and he kept working toward it.

When the time came to actually start shopping, the chassis was never up for debate. It had to be a 911. The only thing that took a minute was the spec. He didn't want a color you see in every parking lot, every coffee meet, every car video on Instagram. No safe grey. No off-the-lot white. He wanted something that felt like his car the moment someone laid eyes on it. So he took his time. Browsed. Compared. Walked away. Came back. Eventually he narrowed it down to four colorways, and after sitting with the decision, he picked one. He says the second he saw the actual car in that spec, he knew. There wasn't a long debate, no second-guessing, no "maybe I should keep looking." It was just it. That was the car.

The day he keeps coming back to is a run on the Grimsel and Furka passes with the Alpinedrive crew. Anyone who has ever driven those passes knows what they do to a car like this. The switchbacks come one after another, the elevation changes are huge, the views genuinely don't look real, and the sound of a GT3 echoing off the rock walls is something you don't forget. You can almost hear it just thinking about it. He wasn't out there alone either. He was surrounded by other cars he respected, and people who actually understood what they were all doing out there. He doesn't try to make it sound bigger than it was. He just calls it a fun and exciting day. But the way he talks about it, you can tell that day is the one that made the whole thing make sense. The one that justified the years of waiting.

Funny enough, his favorite drives aren't the big tours though. They're at night. When the roads thin out and the world goes quiet, that's when the GT3 gets his full attention. No traffic. No noise. No distraction. Just the engine, the road, and the kind of headspace you only get when there's nobody else around. He likes it that way. The car gets to be itself, and so does he.

For someone who's clearly so into the car, he's surprisingly grounded about what it actually is. "Probably the journey more than the car," he says. He's not playing it down. He literally went out and bought a GT3, so it's not like the car doesn't matter to him. But the way he sees it, a better car just makes for a better journey. One thing feeds the other. The car isn't the point. The car is the reason to go. The reason to plan the trip, to wake up early, to take the long way home. Without the journey, the car is just an expensive thing in a garage. With the right journey, it becomes something completely different.

That same head shows up in the advice he gives. If you're chasing one of these, don't blow every last bit of your savings on the car itself. Keep 10 or 20 percent aside. Stuff always comes up. Things the previous owner didn't fully mention, services that pop up out of nowhere, the small surprises that come with running a high-performance car. He's not trying to scare anyone off. He's not pretending it's a money pit. He's just being honest about it. He's been around the scene long enough to know what wrecks the experience for people, and it's almost never the car itself. It's the financial pressure that comes after.

He's already thinking about what's next, too. Properties. Buying a few, renting them out, building something that keeps working when he isn't. He's not the kind of person who stops moving once he hits a goal. He's already looking at the next one. There'll probably be another car at some point too, but he hasn't decided what. Maybe another Porsche. Maybe something completely different. He's not picking a side yet. He's just keeping his eyes open and waiting for the right thing to show up.

Which is very him, honestly. He's not the sentimental type when it comes to machines. "If I get a good or even a better opportunity to drive something better than the last car, I'll take it straight away." No long pause. No romanticizing it. No big speech about how the GT3 means everything to him. That's just the answer. He loves the car. He loves driving. But he's not married to any one of them, because there's always another road, and another car, and another version of this same story waiting on the other side of it.

For now though, the 992 GT3 is exactly where it should be. Empty roads at night. Mountain passes on the weekend. A spec he picked because it felt like him, parked outside because he earned it. Same kid who used to follow his brother around years ago, asking questions, soaking it all up. Just behind the wheel this time.

And the dream he kept folded up somewhere all those years? It's not a dream anymore. It's parked in his garage.