Throughout history, great philosophers have worked to solve the world’s big questions. What is consciousness? Do we have free will? Who am I? What is death? Is the cosmos eternal, non-eternal, finite, infinite? What’s more fun, driving a luxury car for seven days or flying business class for a little more than seven hours?
I was determined to solve this last question as my Toronto-to-Rome flight on ITA Airways took off and the attendant set an Aperol Spritz before me. I had been bumped up to business class a few weeks earlier and I could now tackle a riddle that neither Socrates, Confucius, Sosipatra nor Audre Lorde could answer.
Of course, comparing driving a luxury vehicle to flying in luxury is comparing apples and oranges; but both are expressions of the sweet life. I am not normally in this category. When I fly, I fly “crunched-in class.” Until 2019, I drove a child-ravaged Dodge Grand Caravan minivan, which I dubbed “the Anti-Porsche.” I have no illusions about wealth. Money can’t buy happiness, but what it can buy comes pretty close.
Modes of travel can be paired in the same way wine pairs with a meal. Just as a Ricasoli 2019 Casalferro merlot enhances the enjoyment of lamb ravioli with goat cheese and black garlic, the right mode of movement brings its own sensations. The Pacific Coast Highway in California begs for a Ford Mustang convertible. The A-Line in Whistler pairs nicely with a downhill bike such as a Commencal Supreme V5.
ITA Airways just began daily nonstop flights between Toronto and Rome. I had purchased a ticket, intending to do some writing and research on the 1944 satiric review Cantachiaro and polish off a paper for the F. Scott Fitzgerald Review. ITA offered to bump me up to business if I was able to leave a few days early and try the route. Who was I to say no? The “what’s more fun” question was born.
Part of Andrew Clark's meal on his ITA flight from Toronto to Rome.Andrew Clark/The Globe and Mail
For me, one of air travel’s most appealing qualities is that once you’re in the air you’re everywhere and nowhere. Unreachable. ITA business class enhanced this sensation, the Airbus A330neo’s blue and sand interiors were designed by Walter de Silva, crew uniforms were by Brunello Cucinelli. I was pampered like an over-grown baby in an oversized seat that reclined into a full lie-flat bed, with direct aisle access. Dinner began with bresaola stuffed with goat cheese mousse; and was followed by a pasta pomodoro, sea bream “Pugliese;” and a dessert of fresh fruit, all accompanied by Italian wines. After a little reading, I dozed off. This was a nice change from the way I normally fly economy to Europe: I bring a sandwich and chips and spend the next seven hours fantasizing about napping.
The 2024 Porsche Cayenne.Jeremy Sinek/The Globe and Mail
Once I knew, I was going to examine the “what’s more fun” question, I arranged to spend the week before departure test-driving a 2024 Porsche Cayenne Coupe. Decked in a gorgeous Montego Blue Metallic, among its many options, “my” Cayenne Coupe had 21-inch Cayenne Turbo Design Wheels in Vesuvius Grey, leather interior, Burmester High-End Surround Sound System, and Surround View with Active Parking Support. Estimated retail price: $139,800.
While flying is passive, driving is very active, especially in a Porsche. The Coupe is an appropriate ride because while beautiful, it is not as flashy as a Porsche 911 or 718. A Porsche 718? No one is buying me in a Porsche 718. A Cayenne Coupe, I can pull off. It had a regal interior and gave an exceptionally smooth drive. It may have been my imagination, but it seemed that more drivers honked at me while I was driving the Porsche than they did when I drive my Mini. I noticed too that their ire didn’t bother me because I was driving a Porsche. In ITA business class, I was above it all. In the Porsche Cayenne Coupe, I was swimming through it.
So, what’s more fun? Driving a luxury car for seven days or flying business class for a little over seven hours? Some would say the question is self-indulgent, superficial and envious. Perhaps, but if we do not appreciate life’s beautiful pleasures, we will not be able to navigate its painful trials. Epicurus maintained that one’s own pleasure was the only thing that had inherent value. He praised virtue and moderation, but I bet if he were alive today, he’d appreciate a Porsche and a business class seat that reclines to a full bed.
What’s more fun? The reality is that the perfect picture would be flying business class and then driving home from the airport in your Porsche. That said, I’m happy to have had my brief dalliance with the sweet life. “Nothing,” Epicurus wrote, “is enough for the man to whom enough is too little.” No point in being greedy.