If only they would let me use more characters, mine would look like this:

The Viper represents a coiling snake. The Lamborghini, a crouched devil. Pagani's übercar, the Zonda, was modelled after his beautiful wife.

The Porsche 911, on the other hand, was a car. It is the ultimate expression of the automobile, in its most raw and pure form. The Porsche looks like nothing else because it does not emulate; nay, my friends, it creates. It exists solely as a testament to itself and its legendary creators, an undistilled version of the elemental automotive force that runs in our veins. The very expression of speed, power, and lithe gracefulness, painstakingly moulded into sheetmetal and carbon, an unadultrated energy given corporeal form. What does the Porsche look like, you ask? It looks like nothing, nothing before it and nothing after it, for it has naught to look like any other, but to be itself, and that, my friends, is the true essence of this marque with which we are so taken.

The beauty of the Porsche is not that it represents something else, but that it does not; it merely is as it will be.