You can learn a lot about a person by how they drive. Are they cautious or cocky? Do they white-knuckle the wheel or lean back like the road owes them something? My father? He’s the latter. Calm. Confident. Bred for air-cooled Porsches with cassette tapes. So when I got the keys to a Porsche 911 Dakar and asked if he wanted to cross the country with me, there was no hesitation. Just a grin and a “When do we leave?”
It started at The Amelia Island Concours D’Elegance. The Ritz-Carlton valet was littered with a curation of excellence and perfection, but my eyes locked onto one thing: a 992 Dakar with off-road tires, signatures layered on top of one another like stamps in a passport, a roof tent, and layers of dust from a story that was only half-told. The owner was Jeff Mosing, of Mosing Motorcars in Austin. A car collector, dealer, legendary racer, and Texan through and through.
He handed me a Sharpie and told me to pick a spot. On the hood, just beside a sticker that read Drive Yourself Happy, I added my name. “That’s sick,” I said. “Is that your catchphrase?” Jeff smiled. “No,” he said. “It’s my lifestyle.”
Jeff was a driver. Not in the way people drive to have other’s eyes make them feel seen. Jeff drove because amongst all the noise, speed, smells and stimulation, he found peace. I drove for the same reason.
In that moment something clicked inside of me. Maybe it was a delusion, but I knew that somehow, somewhere, I was going to experience Jeff’s slogan in that Dakar. A week later, I worked up the confidence to call him, and just asked, “Can I drive your car across the country?”
Read Mia’s story in the Summer26 issue of Speedwell Magazine
