I was just reading through recent posts here. Noticed the reference to Charles on Surfer71's thread, and it gave me a chuckle. I crossed swords with him too, but it never bothered me much. Anyway, its been a long day, works a mess, and I'm trying to unwind. In spite of posting here on and off, I've never bothered to tell my story. Since Justin is kind enough to make the invitation, I'll have a go at it now. Probably most will view this as miscellaneous ramblings, of absolutely no interest to anyone but myself. But it is the internet age, and typing is free (facilitated with a nice strong glass of whiskey!)
I've been a car nut since, according to my folks, the day I was born. If it had wheels, went fast, and made a lot of noise, I liked it. Cars, trucks, trains, motorcycles,you name it (trains maybe even more than cars!). I learned to read at a very early age and really liked reading. The summer before I started first grade, Mom sent me down to the library every day (small town, I walked there by myself). Summer of 1969 and I was six. She thought I was there every day reading children's books, or perhaps great literature. I had instead discovered the magazine racks, and the back issues. They had piles of car magazines. What caught my eye the most were tales of mortal combat in exotic lands, with names like Spa, LeMans, Nurburgring, etc. This was the greatest adventure I could possibly imagine. It didn't take long to realize that the name Porsche was figuring prominently in every story. It just clicked for me. I knew what they must feel like, sound like, smell like. The other machines were fascinating, but the Porsches were perfect. I started dreaming and never stopped. So I've been a Porsche guy for 44 of my 50 years.
One day around that same time I went with my Dad to visit a friend of his. He actually had a Porsche. A nearly new '68 912, in burgundy/black. I got to sit in it. I got to ride in it. It felt, and smelled, and sounded exactly like I had though it would. It was not like Mom's Ford Country Squirewagon, or Dad's brown 4-door plymouth. That little Porsche was wonderfully exotic. In addition, this man had a couple older ones. 356's, as I would later learn. They were a little dingy. He was always working on them. Fixing them, selling them, getting another. They were not shiny and sleek like the 912. But I liked being around them. They smelled good. And they spoke to me. They were friendly little cars. I liked the way they smiled at me.
The years went by and suddenly I was a teenager. Hard to concentrate on school when there were so many cool cars to think about. I guess I was losing focus a bit. My Dad thought it would be good for me to have a job. I wanted it to be around cars. He checked with his friend who still had that same 912. He knew a guy with a sports car shop. He'd put in a word for me. A few days later I was cleaning parts and sweeping up in that place. I'd have paid them to do it. A dozen or so Porsches were around in various states of restoration. A Maserati 3500GT was gathering dust in the back next to an Aston martin DB4. An Iso Rivolta and a Fiat 8V were on the lot out front, for sale with several more Porsches.
For those of you who are yawning about how commonplace this was, well it wasn't California. This was a smallish town in West Texas! The land of pick-em-ups and cadillacs. All of the interesting machines for hundreds of miles in any directions passed through this place. There were a surprising number too. A '63 Ferrari 250 GT/L lived a couple blocks over from us in a small back yard shed. I once had to go and retrieve a '67 Lamborghini 400 GT that had quit on the highway about 100 miles south of town. I went with another kid with a trailer to get it, but we quickly got it running and I drove it back at highly illegal speed (all while treating that magnificent motor with the respect it deserved). Stopped two blocks from the shop and put it on the trailer so the boss never knew. Pretty fun stuff for a high school kid.
More time went by. I worked there all through high school (and ultimately much of college). I went from sweeping the shop to building motors. I soon had enough cash to buy a 914 (a 5 year old used car at the time), soon followed by a 356 ('60 coupe). I launched into a long string of 911s and 912s. Eventually responsibility called. A career. A wife. A child. The Porsches took a back-burner role for a while, although I've never not owned one since I got that first 914 in 1979. My years working at the shop taught me to do virtually everything myself, or at least to believe I could.
So that sets the stage for my modern collection. 13 years ago I decided I needed another 356. I found my '58 coupe and bought it. I sent it off to an "expert" for restoration. This was the only time I'd ever hired someone to do a car for me, and why today I am once again an avowed do-it-your-selfer. That project is still ongoing (described some time back in great detail on 356 talk). Maybe it will get finished someday.
7 years ago I stumbled across a '61 Roadster. I'd always thought Roadsters were the best open car. This one was a project, but a good one, and the price was right. So it went into my shed too. I'm making progress. It probably will be finished and drivable before any of the others (its also described on 356 Talk).
There was a pre-A Speedster discovered and bought about a year after the Roadster. There was no way I could keep both and remain married. It was a tough decision but I passed the Speedster on to another guy. I second guess myself a lot about that decision, but I now enjoy seeing his occasion postings of progress on 356 Talk
I still have my '68 Targa too. Bought this one 23 years ago. It was a faded old beater then. I drove it back and forth to work for 10 years or so. Rarely ever put the top on, even when it rained. It got so ugly the neighbors started to complain. Finally I parked it for restoration. It still waits. But its a neat car. A '68 L with soft window. A very early '68 built in '67, euro delivery, aluminum case, early alloys, sport seats, and green face gauges. I see today that the '68 "elephant hide" upholstery, which I always thought very ugly, is some sort of holy grail for early 911 guys. Mine is still there, but all those years of topless driving in the desert sun have taken a toll.
There's also a '72 T coupe that followed me home 15 years back. And a couple of parted 356s and 912s, pieces of which are still floating around. I finally built a nice shop to house all this stuff. Now if I can just find the time to get busy and do something with it. retirement is just 8 years in the future. I appear to have plenty to keep me busy then!
Over the years I've had the pleasure of meeting many wonderful Porsche folks, and seeing an incredible array of machinery. Now if somehow I could just turn the clock back and pilot a 917 for a short time, that childhood fantasy would be fulfilled and my life would be complete!
DG
(David)
I've been a car nut since, according to my folks, the day I was born. If it had wheels, went fast, and made a lot of noise, I liked it. Cars, trucks, trains, motorcycles,you name it (trains maybe even more than cars!). I learned to read at a very early age and really liked reading. The summer before I started first grade, Mom sent me down to the library every day (small town, I walked there by myself). Summer of 1969 and I was six. She thought I was there every day reading children's books, or perhaps great literature. I had instead discovered the magazine racks, and the back issues. They had piles of car magazines. What caught my eye the most were tales of mortal combat in exotic lands, with names like Spa, LeMans, Nurburgring, etc. This was the greatest adventure I could possibly imagine. It didn't take long to realize that the name Porsche was figuring prominently in every story. It just clicked for me. I knew what they must feel like, sound like, smell like. The other machines were fascinating, but the Porsches were perfect. I started dreaming and never stopped. So I've been a Porsche guy for 44 of my 50 years.
One day around that same time I went with my Dad to visit a friend of his. He actually had a Porsche. A nearly new '68 912, in burgundy/black. I got to sit in it. I got to ride in it. It felt, and smelled, and sounded exactly like I had though it would. It was not like Mom's Ford Country Squirewagon, or Dad's brown 4-door plymouth. That little Porsche was wonderfully exotic. In addition, this man had a couple older ones. 356's, as I would later learn. They were a little dingy. He was always working on them. Fixing them, selling them, getting another. They were not shiny and sleek like the 912. But I liked being around them. They smelled good. And they spoke to me. They were friendly little cars. I liked the way they smiled at me.
The years went by and suddenly I was a teenager. Hard to concentrate on school when there were so many cool cars to think about. I guess I was losing focus a bit. My Dad thought it would be good for me to have a job. I wanted it to be around cars. He checked with his friend who still had that same 912. He knew a guy with a sports car shop. He'd put in a word for me. A few days later I was cleaning parts and sweeping up in that place. I'd have paid them to do it. A dozen or so Porsches were around in various states of restoration. A Maserati 3500GT was gathering dust in the back next to an Aston martin DB4. An Iso Rivolta and a Fiat 8V were on the lot out front, for sale with several more Porsches.
For those of you who are yawning about how commonplace this was, well it wasn't California. This was a smallish town in West Texas! The land of pick-em-ups and cadillacs. All of the interesting machines for hundreds of miles in any directions passed through this place. There were a surprising number too. A '63 Ferrari 250 GT/L lived a couple blocks over from us in a small back yard shed. I once had to go and retrieve a '67 Lamborghini 400 GT that had quit on the highway about 100 miles south of town. I went with another kid with a trailer to get it, but we quickly got it running and I drove it back at highly illegal speed (all while treating that magnificent motor with the respect it deserved). Stopped two blocks from the shop and put it on the trailer so the boss never knew. Pretty fun stuff for a high school kid.
More time went by. I worked there all through high school (and ultimately much of college). I went from sweeping the shop to building motors. I soon had enough cash to buy a 914 (a 5 year old used car at the time), soon followed by a 356 ('60 coupe). I launched into a long string of 911s and 912s. Eventually responsibility called. A career. A wife. A child. The Porsches took a back-burner role for a while, although I've never not owned one since I got that first 914 in 1979. My years working at the shop taught me to do virtually everything myself, or at least to believe I could.
So that sets the stage for my modern collection. 13 years ago I decided I needed another 356. I found my '58 coupe and bought it. I sent it off to an "expert" for restoration. This was the only time I'd ever hired someone to do a car for me, and why today I am once again an avowed do-it-your-selfer. That project is still ongoing (described some time back in great detail on 356 talk). Maybe it will get finished someday.
7 years ago I stumbled across a '61 Roadster. I'd always thought Roadsters were the best open car. This one was a project, but a good one, and the price was right. So it went into my shed too. I'm making progress. It probably will be finished and drivable before any of the others (its also described on 356 Talk).
There was a pre-A Speedster discovered and bought about a year after the Roadster. There was no way I could keep both and remain married. It was a tough decision but I passed the Speedster on to another guy. I second guess myself a lot about that decision, but I now enjoy seeing his occasion postings of progress on 356 Talk
I still have my '68 Targa too. Bought this one 23 years ago. It was a faded old beater then. I drove it back and forth to work for 10 years or so. Rarely ever put the top on, even when it rained. It got so ugly the neighbors started to complain. Finally I parked it for restoration. It still waits. But its a neat car. A '68 L with soft window. A very early '68 built in '67, euro delivery, aluminum case, early alloys, sport seats, and green face gauges. I see today that the '68 "elephant hide" upholstery, which I always thought very ugly, is some sort of holy grail for early 911 guys. Mine is still there, but all those years of topless driving in the desert sun have taken a toll.
There's also a '72 T coupe that followed me home 15 years back. And a couple of parted 356s and 912s, pieces of which are still floating around. I finally built a nice shop to house all this stuff. Now if I can just find the time to get busy and do something with it. retirement is just 8 years in the future. I appear to have plenty to keep me busy then!
Over the years I've had the pleasure of meeting many wonderful Porsche folks, and seeing an incredible array of machinery. Now if somehow I could just turn the clock back and pilot a 917 for a short time, that childhood fantasy would be fulfilled and my life would be complete!
DG
(David)
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