Brians 1976 Porsche 911

There’s something about the morning after a night of pints that makes a day of filming feel both more real and more ridiculous. The head’s a bit foggy, the hands a bit shaky, and the road ahead feels like the best cure for all of it.

We started in Birdhill, at Matt The Thresher’s, doing the only sensible thing—lining our stomachs after one too many Guinness the night before. Brian was already in great form, Nathan was quietly caffeinating, and I was mentally piecing together how the day’s shoot would run. The car in question was Brian’s 1976 Porsche 911, a car that somehow manages to look timeless and unbothered by modernity. Just like Brian himself.

After lunch, it was time to rig up. GoPros mounted, suction cups tested, gear loaded. The plan was simple: follow the Porsche through Killaloe and Ballina, then out toward one of those winding country roads that twist their way up to a viewpoint over Lough Derg.

Nathan took the wheel of Brian’s Hilux Surf, which we’d turned into a makeshift chase vehicle. I climbed into the back, camera ready, safely strapped in as we rolled out. The GoPro was running in the 911, catching Brian’s grin as he dropped gears and let that flat-six clear its throat. From my spot in the Surf, I could see him ahead through the glass — a small red silhouette carving through the bends, sunlight flickering across the roofline.

There’s a moment during every shoot where it all just clicks. The sound, the light, the location — everything aligns. For us, it happened as we reached the forested stretch above Lough Derg. The road quieted down, wrapped in trees, the air still except for the occasional bird cutting across the path. We stopped there to film fly-bys — those cinematic blasts of motion that make the heart of a car video.

This was also where Brian got a bit carried away. What started as clean, composed passes quickly turned into full-send limiter-bashing. The kind of noise that wakes up your soul. That scene made it into the very start of the video for good reason — it was too raw, too real to leave out.

What I love about this car, and this shoot, is how naturally it all fits together. The 911 isn’t just Brian’s car — it’s Brian in car form. There’s a certain level of class and refinement to it, sure, but it’s grounded, a little rough around the edges, and not afraid to make noise when it counts. The Gotti wheels give it that hint of old-school attitude — somewhere between motorsport aggression and super-modified VW flair.

Brian always says 911s are just “spicy Beetles,” and he’s not wrong. There’s something wonderfully simple about that idea. It strips away all the elitism and brings it back to what these cars were always meant to be — driver’s cars. Mechanical, communicative, and full of character.

We wrapped the day watching the sun dip low over the lake, cameras cooling down, the air filled with that faint smell of oil and hot metal. The kind of silence that comes after a long, satisfying drive.

The footage we got that day — both for Brian’s 911 and the parallel OldTimer Automotive video — captures more than just cars on a road. It’s about character, friendship, and that rare overlap between man and machine where everything just fits.

And this one?
This one’s definitely not shit.