I was born in 1969 and all I know is that, as a 2 year old, even before I went to kindergarten, I used to kneel on a chair against the window of my parents' apartment in Central London and looking out at the cars go by all day long, I would identify every different luxury/exotic car I could, shouting "Porsche!", "Ferrari!", "Bentley!", "Jaguar!", "Mercedes!" etc etc. Believe you me, I knew the names and model numbers of literally hundreds of cars even then! I am sure I was completely unbearable to live with. I used to call my family saying "Come on, come on, look, LOOOOK, it's an Aston Martin!!" as if it was the most important thing in the world.
My parents were 'forced' to buy me every kind of Matchbox or Corgi toy car I spotted. I feel so guilty now for how I behaved then. I used to see a toy car and I would just lay down on the ground in protest until they bought it for me. I am sure my collection is quite valuable now...
Nowadays, my son is the guardian of all those cars. He's 9 years old and equally nuts about cars as I am.
So, I really don't know when I saw my first Porsche. All I can safely say is that I grew up watching gorgeous cars go by the window of our apartment all day long until it was time to go to nursery school and learn my ABC. So, I suppose I could say that I caught the exotic car bug very early.
Sure enough, I grew up obsessed with cars, going to motor shows, playing Top Trumps (a card game where the card for the car with the more impressive performance specs would 'trump' the card of one's opponent), playing car race video games at the arcades (like Outrun and Pole Position - remember those?), requesting hundreds of new car brochures for cars I could never afford and which I had no hope of buying (whilst fending off my mom's constant complaints about not having enough room in our home to store them all) but, above all, watching every Grand Prix on a Sunday more observantly than the most devout Catholic could be seen at Church that day...
For me, petrol was my wine for automotive communion each Sunday a race was held. F1 has been a religion to me every since.
Having said that I never bought my own car until my late 20s. Living in London, I travelled everywhere on the Undergound (i.e. our metro system). When I needed to drive somewhere (or if I just felt like going for a drive with the stereo blasting the latest hits) I would drive my parents' cars until I got my first car, a black BMW 328i (which I still have, though hopefully not for much longer!)
I guess since I only really drive at weekends (e.g. somewhere out of London), having a car has not been necessary but just a wonderful luxury. I walk to work - 10 minutes on foot each way - so I still consider my car as just a 'lovely thing to have'.
As for Porsches, I grew up in awe of the marque. As a teenager, I was well aware of the many victories at Le Mans. I would read all about legends like Derek Bell and the kind of speeds Porsches would reach on the famous Mulsanne straight. I used to love the 928, the 944 and the 968. I never idolised the 911. I found the various previous incarnations quite unappealing and dated in their styling. Maybe I just wasn't able to appreciate them like some people lack the palette to appreciate certain wines. Then the 996 came along and by this time I was a practising lawyer so purchasing one was realistic financially. But still, something held me back. Again, there was something about the styling that just didn't captivate me. I also suppose that the 1980s image of Porsches as being cars for boorish City banker types who had made a lot of money very quickly under the Thatcher years was a slight turn off. I guess, in my mind, it has taken some time for the marque to shrug off this image.
Then one day in September 2004, my wife and I happened to be going past our nearest Porsche dealer. We saw the new 997S in seal grey with cocoa interior. I was hooked there and then. It was my lightning bolt from the blue. From that day on, I wanted no other car. Sure, I absolutely adore the Ferrari F430 and the Lamborghini Gallardo but they're not cars I could visualise myself driving in. I don't feel like I belong in them. They just don't suit my character.
The rest of my tale is well known to those of you who have read my posts on rennteam before.
Come September this year, I hope my dream will be fulfilled age 36.
expecting in early June, 1 month before my 35th B-day
