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True 1st Automotive Love
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An old frind asked me the other day, "What was your first love?"
The first love of my life was German. Yup, she came from Germany and was less than loved by so many. An “outsider” I say with only 2.5 liters and a turbocharger.
“Sigh,” it was a 1980 Porsche 924 Turbo.
In high school, we used to joke about 924’s being expensive Volkswagens or pointy Audis (back then - that was no compliment) based on the fact that the 924 was originally being developed for Volkswagen. The hardships of history prevailed for the little Porsche and it never quite caught on in America.
Then it happened, my uncle had purchased a used, green Porsche 924 Turbo fully updated and customized. This thing was in good shape, but I hardly noticed as I knew my beefy Mustang would kill it in a drag race (this simply is how many a teenage boy thinks). It was no racecar, but it had something foreign to an American teenager who was used to big-block V8’s - - cornering panache.
A girl who was a childhood friend of mine became available after a fashion. This was advantageous for me as I had it bad for this girl. A dance at her school was coming up. I summoned all of my courage and asked her to go.
She said “yes.”
There was a problem, my car had just died and my father was not about to let me drive his brand new Lincoln. Being sympathetic, my uncle offered me his Porsche. My utter fear for reprisals if I damaged the vehicle kept my driving somewhat sane. I resisted, but my old Mustang was covered in greasy bits, barely running and only had a milk crate for a passenger’s seat - my date wanted to be treated like a lady.
I took the car begrudgingly the day before and made for the hills. I wanted to see what it was made of. I hated to admit it, but the Porsche 924 Turbo was a hoot to drive! It rode like it was on rails and squirted out of every corner like a rocket! My uncle got a few additions including stiffer springs, shocks and wider wheels and it stuck to every corner like glue.
It took my breath away.
Up until then, I had never had so much fun with a car on winding roads. I did have one hell of a time with the clutch, this on account of my legs being big. Even back then, I was damn big and that car’s cockpit was damn small. Still, I squeezed in and took my date to the shindig. I knew I felt something as I looked back at the Porsche more than once. It was sexy, seductive and addictive.
Two things happened that night: 1. We (the girl, Porsche and I) had a blast driving all over town like we were special. 2. My horrendous dancing aside - - my date thought I was cool.
I was kind of sad to give the car back to my uncle. I dare say, it did inspire me to go to a junkyard and get a proper seat for the passenger’s side of my old Mustang.
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