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In 1985 I attended a PCA event in Austin called "Little LeMans". This was an autocross with a course that was a scaled down version of the actual Le Mans track. Spending the day watching those Porsches fly down the "Mulsanne Straight", I came to the realization that there would be a Porsche in my future. I didn't know which model it would be, I just knew that one day I was going to have some car with that famous crest on the hood.
I had always casually read the Porsche reviews in Road & Track, but hadn't given much thought to actually owning one. Now that my mind was made up on that issue, I pulled out all of those old articles, bought some books on the marque, and began to study. The 911 and 930 certainly had appealing looks and great performance, but when every reviewer included a caution about not lifting in the middle of a turn, I began to have my concerns.
What if my wife was driving a car like that and found herself in an emergency situation? Would she have the presence of mind to remember not to lift if she were in the middle of a turn? Heck, I didn't even know if a car junkie like me would remember that golden rule in the heat of battle. Nope, the rear-engined models looked nice, and I'm sure they would be a boatload of fun to drive, but I wasn't looking for something that might turn on me at an inconvenient time.
Back to studying the reviews…for three more years. The 944 had made a lot of friends in the press, but the Audi/VW heritage just didn't sit right with me. By the time I was actually ready to buy, I had decided that all of those glowing reports couldn't be wrong - I was going to buy a 928. So in January 1988, I started my search in earnest.
The local classifieds were listing a '79 5-speed for $7900.
The price was about half of what I was budgeting, but I decided to take a look anyway. When I pulled up to see the car, I was impressed. The new silver paint accentuated a shape that I rarely saw around town. The sculpting of those front fenders was curvaceous enough to make Hugh Hefner do a double take, and the tail definitely wouldn't get lost in the crowd. This was one neat-looking car. The paint job was decent and all the panels were straight. So far so good… until I opened the door.
The inside was trashed. When the owner started telling me what repairs were needed, I politely excused myself and never looked back. I didn't have any empirical data, (Continued on page 14)
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