3 Examples Of Why You Shouldn’t Leave Your Porsche With Me – Part 1

Today begins my guest series entitled “3 Examples of Why You Shouldn’t Leave Your Porsche With Me.” I do this as a public service to all of those out there who think it might be a great idea to have me house-sit your baby for your while you are on vacation, or just need someone to keep an eye on your precious investment. I will track for you 3 events chronologically that are conclusive proof that there are better guardians for you to trust while you are away.

Travel back with me to the year 1984. I was a freshman in high school, and that year they wanted a Porsche to haul around the Senior Class for the big homecoming game, rather than the normal convertible Mustangs and Corvettes. Having more good ideas than good sense (still pretty much my standard MO), I asked my uncle to loan me his 1976 911 Targa. Why I thought he’d actually let me take it, I have no idea, but lo and behold, he agreed….and dropped it to my doorstep in the early afternoon. Now to just give a quick wrap up…I’m a 15 year old kid with no license, it’s homecoming night, and my uncle just dropped off a Porsche to my doorstep for me to take to the game. Can you say Risky Business?

Now, I actually held back and didn’t do anything with the car before the game. When game time came, my dad came out, helped me do a pre-flight check, and sent me on my way. Can you imagine the feeling? It’s a brisk fall night, but no rain, and since I have to have the prom couple up on the roof as we circle the track, I already have the top popped off and the wind is blowing through my hair. “How did I get here,” I keep asking myself. I get to the school, pull into the track holding area, get my couple loaded in, and at the appropriate time wheel them around the track while everyone cheered. I’m sure they were cheering for the couple, but heck, I’m the dude driving the Porsche…they gotta be cheering for me just a bit, right?

My uncle wasn’t coming to pick up the car until the next afternoon, so after the game I basically had two choices: 1) take it home, and settle in for the night, or 2) spend just a few more minutes with the Targa. I’m sure you know what comes next. Out behind our neighborhood is a 12 mile country loop. It has some nice 90 degree corners, a couple little roller hills, and some decent straightaways. I can assure you that at 15, I had no idea how to really put a car like that to the test, nor did I have any clue as to how I should handle it….but I did take it for what was easily the BEST drive of my teenage life. Top off, going as fast as my concious would allow me, stars in the sky, and an open road ahead. I figured my parents were keeping some track of the time, so I didn’t let myself stay out too late, and headed back home…driving slowly into the neighborhood. I pulled in to the driveway, turned it off and just soaked in the whole experience of having a Porsche all to myself for the past couple hours.

The next day I got the wild hair that I could take another quick lap with the car before anyone would notice. To my dismay, the car wouldn’t start. Heck, I couldn’t even get the key to turn in the ignition, and I immediately panicked that I had somehow broken this fine, expensive automobile the night before on my little adventure. When my uncle showed up to pick up the Targa, I was just about to apologize for breaking the car when he pulled on the wheel just a bit, and disengaged the steering wheel ignition lock…something I had no idea about. Apparently, the big Pit Boss in the sky figured I’d had enough fun for one weekend.

Rule #1 about leaving your Porsche with me – I know just enough to be dangerous!

Comments

  1. Andrew says:

    Wow, the whole time reading that story I expected it to take a horrible turn for the worst. Well written. Glad to hear it all turned out well and is still a great memory.

  2. Yeah, it definitely could have gone that way, but I was fairly timid and someone was watching out for me.

  3. your uncle would probably laugh.has to be a nice guy.

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