Type 7

It was this thought that led us to the alpine town of Lech in Austria’s Arlberg region, a place that understands a particular kind of collector. We landed in Zurich on an unusually sun-drenched afternoon, collected a woefully out-of-its-depth rental, and drove into the mountains to catch up with the final stage of the Arlberg Classic Rally. The subject of our story was carving up the passes in a 1974 Carrera RS 2.7. We arrived just in time for the final stop at the Garmisch-Partenkirchen ski stadium in Bavaria.

The drive back to the Lech Lodge brings us to the heart of Arlberg where we meet our host, Klaus Moosbrugger-Lettner. A chef-turned-collector and lifelong Arlberg enthusiast, he keeps a ritual we had been told was worth documenting. He welcomes us into the Lodge, its steep rooflines, heavy timbers and stone glowing in the Alpine sun. The warmth coaxed resin from the wood, releasing one of those scents you wish could be bottled.

After catching our breath over a coffee, Klaus guided us through a hallway, then another, before taking us down a staircase opening into one of the most deliberate collections of Porsche competition cars we have ever seen, arranged over two levels of an underground garage. Before we can take it all in a metallic roar erupts, eliciting an aggressive kick-start to my sympathetic nervous system from the floor below. Our host wasted no time pulling the cover off car No.1111 of Japanese Code 980 - or as we know it, the Carrera GT.

Klaus is behind the wheel, with Maxi, his sixteen-year-old son beside him - a smile stretched every bit as wide as his father’s as they take the first turn into the sun. We try to give chase in the rental. The Arlberg mountains fill our windscreen as the Carrera GT dances from line to line, the sound of its V10 bouncing back at us off the rock faces. Then, with the first straight, it’s gone. Vanished with the force and certainty of a jet tearing off a runway, unfiltered power just about bound by its precision engineering to obey direction.

Though it feels like a special occasion it's simply one of Klaus’ many Dawn Drives, as we came to call them. We roll into a café five minutes behind just as the first light breaks through the valley and casts the town in a warm haze. Almost staged by accident, the Carrera GT sits in the bus stop outside the Lechwelten Congress Center. Its Polar Silver curves contrast sharply against the building’s glowing façade. We stare longer than we should over a coffee, realising that the times we appreciate these fast-moving objects the most are when we slow down.

On the way back I trade seats. From the passenger seat the Carrera GT takes on a new dimension; the cabin feels like an amphitheatre, the spoiler rising behind us, the V10 spooling into fury. We enjoy the curves all the way back to the Lech Lodge, where Klaus’ freshly rallied 2.7 RS sits parked at the base of a nearby peak, awaiting a deep clean. Outlines of the stickers still mark the dusted paint, and regulation notes and map clippings fill the passenger seat. The morning sun catches both cars together, and we can’t resist photographing them nose to nose. Not a bad start to the day.

At the top we come to rest beneath the temporarily silent ski lifts and as the doors open in cinematic symmetry, it’s hard not to make the obvious comparison to an eagle unfolding its wings. As the fog shifts and the valley below comes into view, Lech appears and disappears between pockets of cloud. It is one of those rare scenes that briefly suspends conversation.

This, as Klaus tells us, is only the beginning of the day. Eventually we drop back into the 906 and begin the descent, the little car now fully warmed through. The same narrow, winding road we came up feels sharper on the way down, each corner carving the car into the next. Even with gravity on our side, we struggle to keep up, watching the red and white of the 906 flicker through the trees on the hairpins below us. By the time we reach the lower roads, the morning light has settled across the valley, leaving just enough space for one final drive.

Among the GTs and S/Ts of Klaus’ collection sits something that, to me at least, feels all the more special, and I ask if this car might close our story. Klaus is, in his own words, “incredibly fortunate” to have in his collection a 1958 356 Convertible D, built to Speedster RS specification and once owned by the very first American Porsche factory driver Joe Buzzetta, who raced it successfully in Germany. Its livery is inspired by 1950s Noise Art, influencing the style of SCCA race cars of that era.

Its deep red over silver and a scattering of hand-painted graphics and club badges - from the Arlberg Classic Rally to the Riesentöter PCA - complete its exterior. A frequent concours winner thanks to its 1999 restoration at the hands of Heinz Steber, its equally captivating interior features rich burgundy leather over original aluminium race seats, a single headrest fairing and a race-spec lowered windscreen.

I rarely play favourites, but the way this Speedster sits on a narrow mountain pass as the evening light rolls in is one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen, and even the cows wander closer for a look.

As the sun sets, our time in Austria draws to a close on a dusty mountain pass that skirts the edge of Spullersee, a favourite spot for Klaus and his son, and perhaps the perfect place for our adventure to end. We do something rare for a scene like this: put the cameras down, sit on a makeshift bench, and take the moment in.