(QQ, Spring 2004) — Seefeld, Austria. Arriving at our location was an adventure unto itself: horse-drawn sleighs brought our group to a rustic little cabin a few hundred yards uphill from 'The Meadow'. The falling snow and temperatures in the low 20's contributed to a festive atmosphere for all in attendance. We were coddled in the open-canopy sleighs with layer upon layer of clothing and blankets, the passing trees sagging under the weight of accumulating snow. In the distance one could faintly make out the horizon framed by the inspiring Austrian Alps in the background, every star imaginable piercing the fog. The faint slashing of rails beneath our sled on freshly-packed powder and the bells of our leading horses were the only audible references that we were indeed here in the now-it only felt like a dream. As the horses clopped down a single lane pass for twenty minutes, a cabin notched into the hillside and roaring fire came into view. A four-ringed silver carriage hunkered down in the snow, ready for some high speed spins.

Out of the cabin, ducking under the door frame, stepped lanky 6'4" Walter. Smooth with his tempo, it is almost as if he glides along with no sound coming from his insulated boots walking over the snow. A staccato "Hello" greets us. "Who's first?" he says, meandering over to the driver's door on the A4 3.0 S-Line. The first two passengers immediately rushed the car with Walter folding himself in and dictating, "One in front and one back, makes better balance!" Needless to say, like the running of the bulls in Spain, we couldn't help ourselves from elbowing in to create a line of succession for pairs to follow. With seatbelts buckled and pleasantries aside, the car swooshes off into the darkness down an unknown path trailed by a rooster tail of powder. Only by the Xenons can we track where the car is heading. Scant seconds go by and darkness returns. Our imagination is now fueling wildly.

In a few minutes we spot the signature HIDs coming back up the path. Our excitement level is now almost intoxicating as the A4 returns to view. The car careens in at what was thought to be an alarming rate of speed-yet with a touch of the e-brake, and a flick of the wrist the car softly rotates and comes to a subtle stop with no body roll. The passengers exit the running car with a glassy-eyed stare, grinning wildly from ear to ear. Walter remains at the helm prepared for the next round of riders.

Again and again, this same sequence is completed. The car returns with a soft slide, passengers exit with salacious smiles; new riders buckle in and the car is off yet again. As each individual run concludes, all who rode are anxious to share their experiences and emotions regarding their brief brush with greatness. "It didn't look like he had hold of the wheel", "I can't believe how smooth he was", "I am such a lousy driver!" were a few of the printable exclamations overheard.

Being near the end of the line made it feel as if time was almost standing still. Although each ride was brief, watching the car disappear into the darkness time after time had me wondering if he really was going to come back. He always did, of course, but impatience is a tough thing to overcome when you feel as if you're a kid looking through the glass window of your favorite candy store. And that's exactly where I was: a little boy from Kansas who dreamed of seeing the Austrian Alps, riding in a high-performance German car with a racing legend. Does it get any better than this?

As I notice the lights coming up the path yet again I look ahead and realize there isn't anyone else ahead of me. Finally, my time in line has come. Again the A4 comes in with slight rotation, finishing with a slide that slots the A4 perfectly between two parked cars. The riders exit with aforementioned grins and there before me is an open door to sit in the front seat next to Mr. Röhrl.

Belts buckled, meet and greet complete-we took off in a straight line. First gear to 4000 RPM, shift to second, then I look up and notice the road we're on T's 50 yards up. Off the throttle in second, quick stab of the brake pedal and his right hand falls to gently lift the E-brake. Whoosh. The car begins to rotate counter-clockwise. The E-brake falls back mid-drift as we accelerate full throttle in second gear down a path towards the gate of the ice-laden meadow. Now these wooden gates might very well be nine feet wide-but coming downhill in the dark and crossing those posts at the top of second gear made them feel like they were inches from our fenders. This hole-shot was more than exhilarating, it was almost time for a Porta-potty!

A flick of the wheel starboard brings an easy drift as our line of slalom cones comes into view. With a consistent speed from the first through fourth cones it's easy to see why this driver has earned so many trophies. The car seems almost alive, dancing from left to right, his hands lightly feathering the wheel back and forth with maybe a quarter turn between. An easy right turn off throttle follows, loading the weight forward as our power-slide exercise looms ahead. A gradual increase of brakes steers the car nicely between two entry cones, the 'Scandinavian Flick' follows inducing oversteer. Here we go-the car is drifting deliciously at 45 degrees under modulating throttle. I feel as if I could look out my window and see the person sitting behind right there next to me!

Leaving the powerslide I can only imagine what goodies lay ahead. Full throttle, of course! Up through the top of second, shift to third and oh-my-god, he's stretching into fourth. We're easily moving at 70MPH+ as I look beside us and notice the three foot high snow walls are precious feet from my side of the car, their upper crust morphing with the trees to provide an almost hallucinogenic affect looking outward. As I turn forward I notice one of the padded power line poles directly ahead coming rather quickly with what looks like a six foot gap between itself and the wall to its right. No lifting of the throttle. No change in steering line. It went by so damn quick and quietly you'd think I only imagined it was there. As the pole flashes by on our left Walter smoothly turns his 9 & 3 clockwise to 12 & 6. But wait, there's a wall over here, remember? As the car drifts sideways under throttle I look forward and there's that wall, moving from my left to right at a dizzying pace. I'm thinking to myself, "I guess if I really had to go this would be as good a place as any..."

No sooner do I think that and the wall opens up to reveal a then unknown section of The Meadow that looks like Paradise Lost. Walter opens his steering line to straighten the car, presses the clutch to again load the front end and with a quick flick of the wheel port we start to rotate. Moderate throttle down in third gear rewards us with yet another picture-perfect drift. Wheee! I endured this "agony" for what seemed like 30 seconds, his countersteer rewarding us with a fresh layer of powder on his side of the car. Glorious. Steadily open the steering, shift up to fourth, we're now running parallel to the direction we came in. There goes that pole on the left again-why are we out in the open like this flying in fourth? I'm thinking. Yes, it was a rather stupid question…

I didn't see him physically turn the wheel, nor did I notice the brief instant the E-brake must have been applied. I did see, however, my windshield view distort to the extent that I suddenly felt like the proverbial goldfish being flushed down the toilet, circling at a rate of speed that was unimaginable before now. You'd have thought the wine we drank had some more-than-legal properties because this created a buzz unto itself. Around we went one direction, the wheel suddenly turning upside down under throttle and around we go the other way! This is not possible-how can a car do this-are you sure he doesn't have studs? All passed through my mind as he slowly unwound the wheel and regained traction putting us back under way.

Through the gates we returned, our ride back up the hill could not have been less eventful. Experiencing powerslide after powerslide, doing figure-eights at God-only-knows what speed, and feeling Walter's control through the slalom, left this writer almost without breath. Returning to the cabin and exiting our car was probably the hardest thing I had to do over the entire trip. I just didn't want it to end. Invariably, there were still others patiently waiting in line to share the same experience. And yes-they all came back with that same crooked smile.

Throughout my 'Night Ride' I queried Mr. Röhrl on his development with the new Porsche Carrera GT, his own stable of vehicles, and his current level of involvement with Audi AG. He answered all of my questions with a calm, steady voice-never once wavering in the face of our drifts and E-brake soufflés. His willingness to simply chat at the same time proved an awesome combination of audible and aural delights.

A heartfelt thank you goes out to the Audi Club and Audi AG for the ride of a lifetime. I hope you enjoyed my spin on it as well.