Bad Boy Part 2

I just stared and stared at my 1976 Porsche 911 Turbo Carrera / 930 as it sat there in my garage. I pulled it front ways first so I could just look at the back of the car, that huge white whale tail spoiler that every teenage boy thought was the biggest, coolest wing to adorn the back of a car since the 1969 Dodge Charger Daytona. Then I would turn it around and back it in just to look at the front of the car, low and menacing. Sitting so low to the ground, a hunkered down shape that spoke of speed and power, it looked squat, mean and fast from any angle.

And do you know what? In 1976 it was fast, with the exception of the Lamborghini Countach LP400 and the Ferrari 512 Berlinetta Boxer, there was nothing stock that was faster on the road. Porsche created a revolution when they introduced the Turbo. Let’s face it, cars were pretty sucky in 1976 and with the exception of the afore mentioned exotics, there was not much to choose from. In fact, the 911 Turbo was a revelation. It was funny; Porsche management in Germany actually thought that nobody would buy them. There were so much more expensive than any other Porsche 911 in the range. Every last one of them sold. But they also had a deadly reputation. Inexperienced drivers were not used to that power and there were several that crashed when their driver, after piling on the speed as the turbo kicked in carried way too much speed into a corner and hit the brakes. Not something you do in a rear-engine car. They bite hard when that happens, the rear end would snap around sending the car spinning off the road backwards; often with dire consequences. Even the US Government threatened to do something about these evil fast cars crashing off the road backwards. I knew full well the cars reputation and I respected it every time I drove it. I was always just a little scared when I took it out, but don’t tell my wife…

No other street Porsche had been this fast. I read someplace that the claimed top speed was 153, but I have read other reports that it was closer to 160. No matter, it was fast back then and it is fast today. And it was loud. Bad Boy had been equipped at some point with an after-market “sport exhaust” meaning minimal internal baffling, maximum external noise exiting the huge twin coffee can size exhaust outlets. My wife claimed she could hear the car more than a half mile away as I accelerated up a nice uphill stretch on the back road near our house. Good, I like loud. My boys? They loved it. Today they both tell me it was their favorite Porsche that I have owned. I remember that my oldest son who was in junior high at the time was telling me that he and his friends talked cars every day during lunch. I asked which cars did they talk about…he said my 930. Ahhh, I was humbled, it was still the object of teenage lust, even after all these years.

You know for an old car, it was pretty well equipped for 1976 - AC (well at least there was just the hint of cool air coming out of the vents), power windows, power mirror (yes mirror, remember in 1976 most cars only had one, to get the other was an option), full leather, power sunroof, cassette radio and even intermittent windshield wipers(!). It was missing some important stuff too; Porsche did not put power steering or brakes on this first generation of the Turbo. Many people complained about the brakes saying they were not good enough. Actually I found them to be perfectly adequate, but since they were not power assisted, you just had to press on the pedal real hard. The clutch was not hydraulic, so it did not have a slave cylinder to help with the clutch action, just a very long thick cable that pulled the pressure plate directly. The clutch pressure was extreme, taking a lot of force to press the pedal in. It was funny, my calf muscle on my left leg looked like a dessert plate, it was so pumped up.

There were some quirks about the car. The turbo power was like an on-off switch. There was nothing, no torque, zilch zero nada below 3K RPM, but once you hit that engine speed, the turbo clicked on like a switch and WHAM it exploded forward, pushing you back in the seat as the motor pulled all the way to the 6800 RPM red line. It was intoxicating and I hammered it every chance I got, which as it turns out was pretty much every time I drove it. The acceleration felt like the USS Enterprise as it blasted towards another part of the galaxy bending into warp speed. That shock wave of force and sound was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I had perma-grin; the smile of a gear head plastered on my face. Yes driving it was fun, don’t know if I will ever get the chance to experience anything like that again…but man it was a hoot! But there was not a rev limiter on the car so you had to be very careful not to over rev the motor. I am willing to bet that many an early Turbo motor went BANG simply because the motor was consistently over-revved.

Another quirk - I liked to take the car for about a 150-200 mile drive every other month or so. There were some nice back roads that took me north and west of the DFW area close to the Texas-Oklahoma border. One day was glorious with temps in the low 70’s, a few puffy cotton ball shaped clouds in the sky. So I pointed the car west and opened up the sunroof and it retracted all the way back giving me a ginormous 8” slot of open sky above my head. It was great, until I noticed that the oil temp started to creep up on me. Now I would like to say that I was very respectful of the oil temp on the car and a good temp range was 160 – 180 degrees, more than that and the oil was getting too hot. Respectful may not be the right word, more like terrified, yes…that is closer to how I felt about the oil temp. So I watched it like a hawk, like 10-12 times a minute, I would sneak a peek at the temp. And now it was nudging up past 180, I was concerned…

Don’t know why, but I decided to close the sunroof and low and behold, the temp dropped into the normal range. Strange. Later after I returned from the trip, I went online and posted a question on the Rennlist Porsche Forum and someone replied and suggested that I look in the owner’s manual under sunroof operation. I turned to the correct page and there it was…saying something like “Do not operate the retractable metal pleasure roof segment (or some such German translation) over 100kph (62mph) as it may effect the cooling capability of the engine.” WTF?

Apparently with the sunroof open (oops, I mean the retractable metal pleasure roof segment), it created a dip in the airflow as the speed of the car increased, with more air dipping into the interior and less over the vents on the engine bay at the back of the car. Remember that a Porsche 911 (all variants up to the 996) was air-cooled. So that huge fan at the back of the motor did several things – it spun the alternator for one, but it also dumped a huge amount of air onto the top of the cylinder casings, keeping the engine cool (along with copious amounts of expensive Red Line synthetic oil). The retractable metal pleasure roof segment impacted the airflow above 60mph, reducing the effect of the air being sucked into top of the motor by that fan.

Who knew? I will say that the 930 never stranded me. Oh it tried a couple of times, once with a flat tire (about 120 miles from home). I drove home very slowly on the 25 year old donut, people pointing and laughing as they flew by me on the highway; a Porsche going slow in the slow lane. The second time? I will leave that for next time when I finish up the Bad Boy series.

Until then…

Bad Boy Part 1

After we sold the 944S, there was a period of several years, well to be more accurate 8 years, 2 months and 14 days when I was Porsche-less. It was a tough time. We had two infants – youngsters - prepubescent boys and therefore had a litany of mini-vans, SUV’s and wagons. It was not exactly inspiring.

I had just received a hand-me-down company car; a purple (or more accurately plum) colored Dodge Intrepid and I HATED IT. Every mile was torture, what a piece of crap. I called the guy that had it before me (he had left the company for greener pastures…or at least that is what he said) and asked him “What where you thinking…Purple?” He said it did not look like that in the brochure…”dude, purple is purple, you can tell even from a brochure it was a crappy color. Face it, you screwed up and I have to live with it.” At the same time, we needed to get out of the mini-van we had, our kids were getting bigger and we needed something that was a step up…we needed an SUV.

So my wife hit the newspapers, this was when there were still actually car ads in the paper, before everything was online. And she found something… I was headed home in the lovely Intrepid from Houston and she called me on my cell phone. “How fast can you get to Midlothian?” She asked. “I dunno, maybe 40 minutes, why?” Not sure why my wife was asking me to drive out of my way to Midlothian. “I found a deal.” I should have known.

Well she did find a deal. A young family had got in over their head and had leased two vehicles: a Ford Expedition and a truck. They had to unload them…fast. Here were the details: take over their lease payments, they would pay the transfer fee - $300 and give us $600 cash because they had gone over their mileage. Let me get this straight, we call the leasing company, fill out a form, have it approved based on our credit and we get this Expedition and we get a check from this family for $600? Was this legit? I called the lease company, it was. Oh and did I mention that these folks had put a lot down on the two vehicles so the lease payments were low? I took the exit towards Midlothian as fast as I could.

Test drove the SUV, it was perfect, a Black Expedition XLT with tan cloth interior and 4WD. It was really a nice truck. I told the gal we would take it. My wife worked with the lease company and in a couple of days we had the Expedition for the balance of its lease, or about 36 months. And a check for $600. Perfect. Fact is, I like big SUV’s, they are safe, sit up high and get really terrible gas mileage, but did I mention they were safe?

So the mini van was gone, thank god. Replaced with a 1997 Ford Expedition – things were looking up. So in ’99 I left my cushy / stable job and took the plunge into DOT COM (or rather DOT BOMB) world. I needed new wheels since I had to turn in my company car. During the exit process, they asked me if I wanted to buy it. I had to think about it for a while, like 4-5 nanoseconds before I said no F’ing way or something like that. So I went shopping. Looked everywhere, wanted something cool and I was close to pulling the trigger on a 2000 BMW 3-Series. But because my budget was pretty low, it was a stripper, it had like zero options, not even metallic paint. My pragmatic wife cautioned me not to get the stripper 3-Series. She maintained there were other options. Looking online one day at the website (such as it was) for the lease company we had our Expedition through, I found out they had a lease return lot in the mid-cities. Hmmm, they had treated us pretty good, so why not check out the lot.

I pulled up and met the sales guy. Told him I was looking for a 3-Series and they had a couple, but nothing that lit my fuse. Well he asked me what my budget was and I told him my range. He said he might have something interesting. We went out back. There crowded by a bunch of crappy cars was a dusty ’99 BMW 5-Series with very few miles. It was silver, gray leather, LOADED(!) and it had a very rare (at least in the US) 5-speed manual. And he could get me in the car for less money then my budget. A lot less money. Why so low? I asked him. Easy…it had a manual transmission, nobody wanted a BMW 5-Series with a manual transmission. I did! It was mine.

Picked it up on a very rainy night, it was pouring. So of course I had to completely detail it the next day. I loved that car; it was awesome. But it was doomed too. I was making pretty good bucks in the Dot Com space and I realized I could get rid of the BMW and get back into a Porsche. It went up for sale. Funny I did the same thing with the BMW that the folks did with the Expedition, except I had equity and made the guy who took over the payments pay the transfer fee and give me $1500 cash. Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do…or can get away with.

One quick BMW story before we go on… as a part of my Dot Com job, I was doing a lot of work with a well know PC manufacturer in Austin and was down there every week (sometimes twice a week), but frequently for 3-4 days at a time. My best friend had some gigs at a huge club opening for a bunch of touring bands and he asked me to play the gigs, since he needed a bass player. It was like 6 gigs over a three-week period and it dovetailed nicely with my business trips. I said yes.

So picture this, struggling musicians pulling up in a variety of barely running cars and trucks, getting out and lugging old nasty amps and such, dressed in grungy jeans and tee shirts. I pull up in a new BMW 5-Series, pull out a new Ashdown amp and am dressed in my hip Armani duds…the juxtaposition was interesting to say the least. I was the best dressed person in the club and my wife looked especially HOT in her black Jill Sanders outfit. Yeah, success sucks, or so I hear. But we played some great gigs and in the case of one touring band, blew their collective asses off the stage. It was a good night.

In 2001 I decided that it was time to get back into the Porsche scene, so I started looking around. I test drove a few cars, but nothing really stood out. I did not mind waiting until I found the right car, I could be patient. Then one day I logged into the Dallas Morning News website and clicked the link to the car ads and looked at the Porsches for sale. Usually there were a few cars listed, most were either basket cases or brand news ones way beyond my budget and means.

But there was this car, a 1976 Porsche 911 Turbo Carrera or 930. It was nearby, it was in my price range. I grabbed the phone and called the number listed. A guy answered the phone and laughed, he had just listed the ad only moments before, but already had like 6 calls. He was a commercial airline pilot and was not flying that day. He asked me how fast I could get to his house. I said fifteen minutes. He said I better hurry.

He met me at his front door and walked me around to the garage and opened the door with the automatic opener. The door rolled up and the sight of the Porsche 930 literally took my breath away. I had to have it. What cinched the deal was we drove to the place where I had most of my mechanical work done to all my previous Porsches and BMW’s. I really trusted these guys. The owner of the 930 trusted these guys too. The service manager told me this was the best 930 they had ever cared for; it really needed nothing. Here are some shots that the Pervious Owner (PO) sent me. Enjoy, but there are better ones to come…

Not for one minute had I ever imagined that I would be able to own the car of my teenage fantasies. A 1976 Porsche 911 Turbo Carrera / 930, number 408 of 630 imported into the US. Wow. Normally we do not name our cars, but we christened this one – Bad Boy. It was.

See you all next time.

Our 944S - The Forgotten Porsche

Marital bliss. My bride and I married in 1990 and we each brought one car to the union. I was driving a 1990 Acura Integra LS and my wife was driving a 1986 Nissan Pulsar. The Acura was a great car; made by Honda it was well built, well engineered and pretty quick (for 1990 anyway). The Pulsar? No beating around the bush, it was a piece of crap. I can only hope that my wife did not pick it out, holding out hope that her parents saw it at a local dealer and thought, “why that is cute, let’s get that for our daughter.” Or something like that.

Anyway it was terrible - terrible slow, terrible looking, with terrible funky mid-80’s ergonomics. My plan was simple, once we wed - ditch the Pulsar. So how could I put my evil plan into play, it was her baby. Then the other quandary, what to replace it with? Hmmmm, let’s see...maybe a Porsche? Actually truth be known, she found it. See my wife is addicted to newspapers (yes she still loves to get the Sunday Newspaper and reads every section, every ad, it takes hours….) and she was going through the Saturday auto ads and she turned to me and “Hey is a 1987 Porsche 944S a pretty good car?” That is like asking Parnelli Jones if he liked to drive Indy cars (OK, maybe dating myself a little bit with that reference). So we went to the dealer to check it out.

As it turns out my plan was not too evil, the car was great. Black with a black leather interior, it had about 36K miles and was in pretty decent condition. Now this was before I knew about Pre Purchase Inspections (PPI), or having a Porsche mechanic give it a once over; fact was, we got lucky. It could have easily gone the other way and we could have ended up with a lemon. But we didn’t.

When it came time to do a deal, we brought both the Integra and Pulsar to the dealer and we traded both of them in. The dealer was a little unnerved having to take in two trades, but they did it. Of course they did it, I cannot image a dealer not doing a deal to move some iron. So I drove home, because my wife could not drive a manual transmission…yet.

First order of business was to teach her how to drive a stick. We went to a large parking lot on a Sunday and we traded places. She was very nervous. She killed it multiple times before I had her moving and shifting. We spent the next couple of days with me in the passenger seat giving her nurturing advice. She got the hang of it. We also had just received my new company car a 1990 Ford Aerostar van, so we split time between the two cars.

My wife had started a new job working for a manufacturer of luxury writing instruments and her job was to visit all the stores that sold them and conduct training, clean and arrange the display cases and make sure they had all the special paper products to demo the pens. I remember her coming home one day and she was worked up, really hot about something. She had gone to a local purveyor of fine jewelry and a couple of the sales gals had been really snotty asking her how she could possibly afford a “Porsh”. She smiled at them sweetly and said that although she could not afford a “Porsche”, her husband could and she got to drive my car. Shut them up…nuff said.

So she had been driving it a while and I noticed that the clutch pedal was getting a bit long, meaning that the action was almost all the way out before the clutch engaged. This meant that they clutch had just about packed it in. I had also just got a monthly bonus and it seems that the 944S knew exactly how much the bonus was because the bill of the new clutch and the amount of the bonus were almost dollar for dollar. New clutch, new lease on life!

I loved that car, it was fast, good looking and did I mention that it was fast? Well it was also doomed. My wife went though pregnancy with our first child switching between the 944S and the Aerostar and she was miserable driving the Porsche. The bigger she got, the worse she fit, but she still stuck with it. We had it after our first son was born in 1992 and actually made a trip to Abilene to visit her parents with our son in the back. It was a tight trip, all the baby stuff filled up the hatch area and one of the rear seats. I was using the Aerostar (or as my father in law called it…the Astroloid) more and more for work, so something had to give.

But before we sold it, I started to work on some maintenance items on the car. Limited tools, limited room, meant that it took forever even to change the rear gear oil to the transaxle. Bottom line we needed a new car. So we took a look around, but did not particularly like anything we saw on the market, until we saw the 1993 Mazda 626, especially the one with the Ford sourced quad-cam V6.

So we went to the dealer and traded the 944S for the Mazda. They offered us a pretty good deal, but we were still a ways apart. We had been going through the negotiation game for a very long time, we were tired, our baby boy was tired, hungry and we had finally run out of diapers. So he decided to put an end to the negotiations by pooping in his diaper. We did not have another one and the smell started to get ripe. At one point, when the smell of poop was getting quite lethal in that small sales cubicle, my wife and I glanced at each other, we were going to hang tough, not give in. It was getting stinkier by the second, but we did not budge on what we were willing to pay. The first one to blink (or run away from the smell) was the loser. At that point, the sales guy excused himself for a moment and came back with the manager who took one whiff of the aroma surrounding us like a fog and agreed to my deal if we would leave right then. They took a chance and rolled us in the car, asking us to come back the next day to sign all the paperwork, but made us promise we would have spare diapers.

As we pulled out of the dealership, we made a quick turn into a nearby parking lot, my shrewd wife pulling out a diaper from the bottom of the diaper bag, turns out she knows a thing or two about the negotiation process too. My oldest son still loves that story; how he helped his parents get a smoking deal on a 1993 Mazda 626 LS with a sporty V6. Ah…the memories of a negotiation game where we held all the cards…err based on lack of diapers.

Until next time.

The Inbetweeners – Cars that we have owned between all those Porsches

I have owned a lot of cars. Seems like there is a new one in the garage all the time. Funny thing though, a majority were used (or maybe more politically correct to say…pre-owned). What does this list say about us and our automotive choices? Well except for Porsches, we get tired of cars pretty fast, we say that we are going to keep them forever and don’t and for the most part, have owned a little bit of everything. But I will say that when I sell a car, it is usually in much better shape than when I bought it. It is a good idea to buy one of my cars, it will be spotlessly clean, the maintenance will be up to date and (especially with the Porsches) have some very tasty mods installed.

When it comes to Porsches, I have a problem. I call it the Slippery Slope and I cannot help myself, I just have to make the car better. I waxed on and on about it in a column I wrote for Planet-9.com and if you want to read about my addiction, here is the link (http://www.planet-9.com/robert-turner/56140-slippery-slope.html). My wife read it, and commented about my “hobby” and noted that my automotive excess tended to be very expensive. “But at least I’m not addicted to Golf !” I proudly pointed out and then went on to say that at least she was not a Golf widow. No, she countered, she was a Garage widow – which amounts to same thing and based on the cost of Porsche mods, she pointed out that we would probably come out ahead if I started playing Golf 2-3 times a week. Hmmm, she had me there…

So I thought I would compile a list of all the vehicles we have owned or been assigned (including company cars) since my first 1965 Ford Mustang (listed in chronological order from first vehicle owned to most recent). This list includes the car my wife was driving when we met as well as the cars that I have purchased for my two teenage sons (but still have title to). It is quite a long list. There are some pretty bad vehicles along the way…enjoy.

1. 1965 Ford Mustang
2. 1972 Chevy Vega
3. 1980 Puch Moped*
4. 1976 Honda CB 400F
5. 1979 Fiat Strada
6. 1972 Porsche 914
7. 1985 Suzuki GS550E
8. 1965 Ford Mustang (a different one that listed above)
9. 1986 Acura Integra*
10. 1990 Acura Integra ES*
11. 1986 Nissan Pulsar* (ouch we had one of those…actually was my wife’s car)
12. 1987 Porsche 944S
13. 1990 Ford Aerostar Minivan* (it totally sucked) – Company car
14. 1993 Mazda 626*
15. 1993 Dodge Caravan* – company car
16. 1990 BMW 525i
17. 1996 Dodge Caravan* – company car
18. 1999 Ford Explorer
19. 1999 Dodge Intrepid – Company car (shorted we had a car – 8 weeks)
20. 1999 BMW 528i
21. 1976 Porsche 911 Turbo Carrera – 930
22. 1986 Porsche 944 Turbo – 951
23. 2001 Ford Excursion
24. 1999 Porsche Boxster
25. 1992 BMW 525i Touring
26. 2001 Volvo S60
27. 1983 Mercedes 230E
28. 2005 Honda CR-V*
29. 2006 Audi A3*
30. 2007 Honda CR-V*
31. 2004 VW Touareg V8
32. 1992 Mazda Miata
33. 1993 Porsche 968
34. 2001 Porsche Boxster S
35. 2007 Ford F-150 (teenage sons car)
36. 1995 Jeep Wrangler Sahara (other teenage sons car)
37. 2007 VW Passat (wife’s current car)
38. 2006 Porsche Cayman S (my current car)
39. 2008 VW GTI (replaced Ford F-150 when gas bills got rampant)

Wow, that is quite a list! Almost 40 cars in a lifetime. And I have no doubt that 50 is easily attainable (I am sure my wife is cringing as she is reading this). So tell me, what should our 40thcar be? I suspect that my wife is due to get the Passat replaced next. How do I know this? Intuition….

So we had the Touareg and she said that we were going to keep this SUV for years, maybe until the boys were through with college. Problem was it was about to turn 140K miles and I dreaded the maintenance items that were no doubt on the horizon, but I was cool with it. It needed new tires: did my research and found the perfect set of tires (General Grabber UHP) on Tirerack.com. These were very highly rated, inexpensive too and were so much more quite than the previous tires on the SUV.

So we settled in for a long stretch of ownership. Then one day a few months after we had put on the new tires, we were watching TV and an ad come of for the VW Jetta and my wife looked up at me and said, they were cute and she could maybe see herself driving something smaller, more economical. And she decided that maybe, we should go drive one. Uh oh, that means that her forever is about to come due today. We went to our local VW store and tested the Jetta and Passat. She loved the Passat; we drove one home. I figure it is safe until we get a new set of tires on it….

Until next time…

Bromance, a modern tale or my irrational love of Formula 1

1977 and a high-school buddy turned me on to a magazine that I had never seen before called Road &Track. I am sure that the magazine went on to extol the virtues of the newest Porsche 911 Turbo or Ferrari Daytona but what I remember was the Formula 1 coverage; tiny, really fast cars with huge slick racing tires, giant wings and stickered with sponsor logos from nose to tail. They raced in faraway places such as Brazil, Monaco and Japan and had an international cast of drivers including American racing hero Mario Andretti.

In the 70’s and early 80’s you could tune into ABC’s Wide World of Sports and hear Jim McKay talk about the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. I prayed that every week they would show just a little of Formula 1 and sometimes they did - rough editing, grainy footage and all too short segments at maybe 15 minutes long, the announcers recapping the whole race. The drivers just looked different, exotic, almost like rock stars. And they were, across the pond. Guys like Niki Lauda, Emerson Fittipaldi and James Hunt; these guys were heroes to people in every other country in the world except the US. But I loved them, their heroic exploits, their triumph and tragedy.

As a teen living in Lexington KY; where did you get Formula 1 (F1) coverage? Road & Track was months behind in coverage due to its monthly format, ABC’s coverage was sporadic, so where could you turn? I found a magazine, razor thin and published weekly, it was called Autoweek. I think I found the only place in Lexington that carried the magazine and spent my hard earned money every week on the latest edition. What I discovered was coverage that recapped the race one week after it happened. One week, it was like a God send. I would grab the issue, turn past the features section in the front and the ads in the middle to the motorsports section in the back of the magazine and immediately read the F1 coverage. I was hooked.

There was this team, they drove black and gold cars and man…they were the coolest looking race cars ever! And they had technology, the first ground effects cars, meaning they used an inverted airplane like wing to actually suck the car to the track for better handling. There were the Lotus 77 and 78 and I loved the drivers, Mario Andretti and Ronnie Petersen. I was actually at the Italian GP in 78 when Ronnie had that horrific accident that later claimed his life. We knew something was wrong when we saw the column of rising smoke and the noticed that the cars moved past at a much reduced speed, the race already black flagged.

I had moved to Italy and discovered there were whole magazines dedicated to F1, like Autosprint, in Italian no less. It forced me to learn how to read Italian a bit faster than normal; that is if I wanted to understand what was written. And the Italian press dissected the race down to the individual lap. And if Ferrari won, it was a brilliant victory justly deserved and if they lost, it meant that the Vatican had not prayed hard enough and as the racing pundits surmised, that someone was surely going to be sacked, the blame placed on some poor unsuspecting mechanic that had turned the most important bolt in the car in the wrong direction. RAI Uno (the main Italian TV station) covered EVERY race live, with excited announcers telling their listeners that the Ferraris were going to win every race, unfortunately there were other cars on the track, mostly in the way, hindering the progress of the Ferrari’s on their way to victory. It was pretty one sided reporting. Even I got that…

There was this other team, a small outfit, underfunded but plucky, run by the scrappy duo of Frank Williams and Patrick Head. I pointed them out to my step-dad. He scoffed, saying they would never win a race…ever. But they had this new sponsor, Saudia Airlines and they gave Williams a lot of blank checks, with only one instruction – Win. Well Williams Engineering did go on to win a couple of races and a few driver’s championships and constructor’s championships along the way. He was wrong, very wrong and I enjoyed reminding him of that…every chance I got. Their drivers were my drivers and I loved all of them: Alan Jones, Kiki Rosberg, Carlos Reutemann, and of course Nigel Mansell.

Ahh, Nigel, the British Lion, Red 5, the Policeman from the Isle of Mann. He was my favorite driver of all times. I would live and die based on how he did in a race. It was amazing to watch, his natural rivals, Alain Prost and Aryton Senna would spring from their cars, looking fresh, ready to go again. I actually took a picture of Senna doing a summersault coming down from the podium at the 1991 US GP in Phoenix. But not Nigel, sometimes he would have to be helped from his car. He gave every race all he had, there was nothing left at the end, he’d left it out there on the track. Bathed in sweat, he wrung every ounce of performance from the car and himself. He was my F1 hero.

I will say that the one thing that has changed watching F1 has been Speed TV. Man I love those announcers, Bob Varsha with the play by play, the sardonic David Hobbs and the former F1 team mechanic Steve Machett providing color. These guys have been together for years and it shows; they really know the sport. But let me tell a quick story. Sometimes Speed cannot carry a particular race for some silly reason or another. It fell to another network, I think ABC had it and they had some other announcers calling the race. What I recall was some TV personality named Jason Priestly (remember he used to be on Beverly Hills 90201 and maybe did a celebrity race or two in a Toyota) being pulled in as the “color” guy. This “car-guy” had absolutely no idea about any of the inside aspect or knowledge of F1. Besides focusing on what earrings the driver’s girlfriend was wearing, they showed little of the actual race action. I remember that at one point a particular driver was running away with the race and most of the front runners where on Michelin shod tires and all the Bridgestone shod teams were way back in the pack…way back. With about 15 laps left (which is pretty much means at the end of the race) he actually said that he thought the Bridgestone guys could make an impact on the race and fight for the overall win. Really? With an interval of almost a minute? In F1, that may as well be an hour. What a moron. I hate coverage other than Speed TV and we collectively cringe when we hear another channel is providing coverage, unless Bob, David and Steve are doing the commentary that is.

After Mansell faded from the F1 scene, I was in search of a new hero. I was never a huge Senna fan. I respected his talent and hated it when he died driving a Williams. I think it still haunts Frank and Patrick. But there was this new kid, this fearless German and he won back to back titles with the upstart Benetton team. His name of course is Michael Schumacher. By now I had kids of my own and they followed F1 with me and we all watched Michael week after week. Yes we got sucked into that red Tifosi Ferrari fever. If Ferrari did not win, all was lost and we hung our heads all week wondering if the world would ever be right again.

But he rewarded us year after year after year after year. This guy is a machine and won a record 7 World Driver’s Championship titles, two in 1994-1995 with Benetton and five (!) from 2000-2004 with Ferrari. His records for most championships, most race wins, most points scored, most poles, most fastest laps will probably never be equaled (unless another German F1 sensation Sebastian Vettel can do it). Even in 2006 Michael was still in the hunt to win a record 8th World Championship and during the next to last race in Japan was dueling with the upstart Spaniard Fernando Alonso. My boys and I were on the edge of our seats when all of the sudden with only a few laps remaining, Michael’s engine blew up in spectacular fashion. A Ferrari engine failure? It had not happened since the 2000 season. My boys and I agree that Ferrari wanted to make room for new blood on the team and someone in Modena flipped a switch…causing the failure. We were collectively heartbroken and we still believe in the switch conspiracy to this day.

After Michael retired, we cast around for a new hero and we really do like Lewis Hamilton, but we rallied behind Jenson Button in the upstart Brawn Racing entry. After a huge start winning 6 of the first 7 races in the 2009 season, he held on (just barely) to win the World Championship. Those last few races were nail biters as it seemed that three other drivers including his long suffering teammate Rubens Barrichello made a run on Jenson’s point total. But they all come up short. I will long remember him singing Queen’s “We are the Champions” as he took his cool down (victory lap) after coming in 5th in the Brazilian GP and (finally) securing the Championship. By the way, Jenson is no singer; he would not make it too far on American Idol or The Voice. But the guy can drive a race car.

We still follow Jenson, but it looks less and less likely he will win another race. There are new fast guys and they are all fellow World Champions too. Guys like Lewis, Fernando and Sebastian and a few older guys like Jenson, Michael (will still think it was a mistake for him to come out of retirement) and Mark Webber entertain us week after week. I love F1, probably always will. It is no doubt a somewhat irrational love, but if you gotta love something, it may as well involve tiny, really fast cars with huge slick racing tires, giant wings and stickered with sponsor logos from nose to tail.
See you all next week.

TOP 10 American Cars / Since I was born…or a long time ago

I love these lists. It’s the rare opportunity to show a little insight into how someone thinks, what they like, what they don’t like. And if you have been following my blog, you know there is one car in particular that I really don’t like – The Pontiac Aztek. Man that is one ugly car, I cringe every time I see one…every time. But now it is time to shift gears – so to speak. Now it is time to take a look at the cars that I love. It is a HUGE list, so big; I am going to split it up into several lists. So without further ado, the TOP TEN List of Classic American Cars… since I was born. Which was a long time ago… as many of my friends constantly remind me. Right Hobby Boy?

When you look at this list, you may notice something pretty obvious. They are all from the 60’s. I looked at many cars from the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s, but I could not really add any of them to the list. American automotive design took a dive starting about 1973 (the same year as the mandatory 5-MPH bumpers were bolted to the front and rear of every car). They were hideous and therefore not on the list. It seemed that Landau Tops, port holes and ginormous unadorned steel bumpers were all the rage. The 80’s? The 90’s? Not much there, nothing really grabbed me. But those cars from the 60’s? They do it for me and I suspect many of you too. Just look at the prices many of these cars fetch at the auctions. There are a lot of guys reliving their teenage dream snapping them up for 6 figures. Ahhh, to be young again.

10. 1964 Lincoln Continental 4-Door Convertible – How could you not love this car, it is about a mile long, a large family could live in the trunk and the interior is large enough for a small village. But those lines are just fantastic and the suicide doors finish it all off, leaving us wanting to take about 8 friends for a long cruise; with the top down no less.

9. 1963 Studebaker Avanti – Raymond Lowey and his team at their best. It had fiberglass body panels and it was so edgy. It still is today. Studebaker (later AMC) was definitely on the slide, but this car shows that they still took chances. The car could even come with a Paxton Supercharger as an option, how good is that?

8. 1969 Pontiac GTO – There are a couple of muscle cars from the late sixties that really define both the genre and the time. For me, the years of 1967 to 1969 really showcased Detroit at its best, these designs are just timeless. I love the aggressive of the GTO and especially the Judge version. When I see one today, it still gives me the chills. But in a good way!

7. 1969 Dodge Charger R/T – Another great example of late 60’s muscle car. Really, you could pick any number of them, they all look good. But the Charger R/T just had the right vibe, and with a Hemi, it also had the HP to boot. I would love to have one of these in the garage…actually I would love to have any of these in my garage. But I digress.

6. 1965 Ford Thunderbird Convertible – Ford was on a roll in the 60’s. Really every automotive manufacturer was, but Ford in my opinion really got it, hitting all the automotive styling notes. I like the 50’s T-Birds (who doesn’t), but the T-Birds from 1961 to 1965 were the best.

5. 1968 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray – How do you top the 1963 to 1967 Corvette? Easy; with the Mako Shark inspired 1968 Vette. It looked good in both convertible and coupe from. I love the design right up until ’73 when Chevy had to add the oversized federally mandated safety bumpers. But those cars from 68-72, with up to 600HP under the hood? Man, that is what I am talking about!

4. 1968 AMC AMX – I know some of you are thinking how could two Studebaker / AMC cars make the Top 10 list. Yeah me too, but really the AMX was one of the best looking two seater coupes ever. That short wheelbase and aggressive short rear deck really tied it all together. Too bad customers did not flock to the showroom, it was gone by 1970.

3. 1965 Ford Mustang Shelby GT350 – How Iconic is this car? 1965 saw a transformational shift in sporty cars with the introduction of the Mustang. And if you are going to pick one, the Shelby is the best of the best. It was pretty close to what Ford was putting on the track. Man…ol’ Shel could really cook back then.

2. 1963 Chevrolet Corvette (Split Window Coupe) – This car looks great from every angle. When it came out, there were only a handful of cars that could combine the looks, power and handling like the Vette. Maybe a couple of Ferrari’s, Jag’s and Aston’s, but that was about it. It had Independent Rear Suspension (IRS) and engine options up to 360HP, it was a world class sports car.

1. 1967 Ford Mustang Shelby GT500-KR (Yeah baby!!) – This is what I would put in my garage before any other classic car. But as you probably imagine, the price tag these days is pretty steep. I love the over the top look that Ford gave to the 1967 / 68 Mustang Shelby. But the GT500-KR version gave you even more. Lust after it, I know I do!!

Well there you have it. My all time classic American list. There will be a poll, so you can vote for your favorite too. Have fun!

Until next week.

The End of the line, or how the 914 simply rusted away

College behind me, disappearing in the rearview mirror, it was time to head out of Austin to seek fame and fortune up in the Big D; or better known as a paying job and Dallas. I had to move back in with my Mom until I landed a job so the 914 was drafted into long distance service as I was still dating a gal in Austin, plus I was still working a few bartending shifts during the weekends for spending and gas money.

During the week, I was in full-on job search mode. I did the usual, sent out a lot of resumes, went on lots of interviews, talked to plenty of headhunters and come Friday afternoon, would head down to Austin. There was a weekly rhythm to it and this ritual went on for several months. Our country was in the grips of another short term recession and the job market was non-existent in Austin and pretty tough in Dallas too. Each trip down was a mini adventure as I was not sure how the 914 would fare. It was quickly getting to the end of its useful life. The rust had started to eat away at the suspension pickup points and the whole car was starting to get flexible. Not exactly the kind of thing that installed plenty of confidence driving a car 200 miles each way.

In late-April everything came to a head. The gal I had been dating did not like the long distance part of our relationship and she made it quite clear she was not going anyplace, so something had to give. I drove down one warm Thursday evening and was just outside of Austin near Georgetown, when I got a flat. It was the right rear tire. I went to the front trunk to get the spare and the jack and went about changing it. Now I-35 is not your safest patch of asphalt in the world (and today it is plenty worse), but I was safely off to the side on the shoulder, somewhat protected as cars and semis zoomed past. Problem was, it was dark, I did not have a flash light and had to kind of feel around for everything. That was where I ran into trouble.

Remember a couple of weeks ago I mentioned that the rust had even corroded the slots where the jack stands are inserted into the side of the car to raise it? Well they were corroded almost completely shut, rust having moved in on a permanent basis. Crap! I wedged the jack into the receptacle as far as it would go and tried to raise the car. I got it pretty high in the air, enough to take off the flat tire, which I did. But then suddenly the jack support gave out and car fell to the ground, the jack stand lying on its side, wedged below the car. Fortunately I was not under the car when it collapsed, but now I was completely screwed.

The options were limited; cell phones were not exactly common back in 1986. So I was resigned to walking to the exit I had just passed and trying to find a tow truck. But as luck would have it a Good Samaritan had seen the car fall, so he took the next exit and circled back around to see if he could help. He had a huge floor jack with him along with a flash light. We had the car raised, the spare on and the car lowered in less than 10 minutes. I thanked him profusely and he said it was no big deal; he was just helping a fellow motorist. Nice guy!

That weekend was pretty eventful. I bought four new tires (the other ones were in pretty bad shape, I kept the best one as the spare), got a call on Friday with a job offer, oh and on Monday morning as I was about to head back to Dallas, the gal I had been dating broke up with me. I was usually sad to see Austin fade in my rearview mirror as I headed back north on I-35. It held so many memories of good times and bad. For me it still holds a special feeling, a great city where there is so much to do, see and especially hear. But not that Monday; it was bittersweet heading north towards Dallas, where everything seemed new and hopeful, like a new chapter in my life was about to unfold and be written. Thinking back to everything that happened in the topsy-turvy weekend, there was one unintended side effect…I grew up.

I think the car slamming to the ground was probably the straw the broke the camel’s back. It made all sorts of scarping sounds and did not track straight at all. It was in its dying throws. I had to get rid of it fast. Calling around, nobody wanted to buy it, but I found this one wholesaler (I cannot for the life of me remember how I found this guy) and he liked the car, rust, flexing body and all and would trade me for this motorcycle he happened to have (and needed to get rid of). It was a Suzuki GS-550E and was like new. I gave him the keys to the 914, the title and $200 cash. The red 914 looked sad as he and a friend loaded it onto a car hauler, the rust having finally taken its toll. Maybe he wanted it for parts, because for sure he could not have wanted it to drive, it was too far gone. In return, I was now in the possession of reliable transportation. And for those rainy days, I had the use of a 1966 Mustang which my mom had ended up with (but that is another story). Here is a photo in case none of you have seen a GS-550E, a very nice mid-level bike. And exactly what I needed at that point of time in my life.

Started the new job May 1st, I was now firmly on the path that has sometimes quietly, sometimes not, has lead me to the place where I am today. Thank God that the fateful weekend in Austin had intervened, in all reality, that path was never going to be the right one. I would have never met and married the wonderful woman that has been my wife for 20+ years, had two great children (well most of the time…), would have never owned another seven Porsches. That old girlfriend would have never allowed me to enjoy something that much….

See you all next week.