986 owner's (alternative) drive report -PART I
Actually, it's not a report of my first drive, but my first report on buying and driving my 986. Just to clear that up.
A few years ago I opted to quit my job and start my own company.
A year later I often found myself wondering why on earth I did that.
No steady income, an unstabil client roster and a lot of payments on house and a car every month...good thinking!
But as fate and hard work would have it I my little biz started going well after a couple of years.
Starting a new company makes it virtually impossible for most people to even think about buying a new car..let alone a fun one...and exotics you can simply forget about. So I did. I basically stopped reading car magazines, turning my head after nice cars on the streets and pretty much became an automotive monk.
A year after I started my voluntary celebacy I was doing just fine....that is until a friend of mine did the unspeakable: He brought a stripper into the monestery!!! In other words: he bought an F 360 Spider. YIKES!
Even with most of my arms crammed into my ears I couldn't help hearing every single detail about this car...and when he lured me into the tender trap and took me for a spin I begged the Lord to give me strength to resist the Devil's handywork...but found none.
I was sucked right back into the pits of useless automotive shopping. that's where you're wasting money on anything from those bling-bling rims to that special air filter that would surely give the car at least 0.007 bhp more.
I was an addict once again. Having fought bravely for many months I now had to resign, give in and start subscribing to my old car mags...and even worse: Start dreaming of getting a better car.
Ok, so the biz wasn't exactly a goldmine, and perhaps my banker would send a bunch of hitmen after me, but hey...those are minor details.
Apart from the occasional spin in the occasional Ferrari I wasn't too focused daily on getting a better car. The ones I could get weren't the ones I wanted, and the ones I wanted weren't the ones I could get. Sounds like a night at the local disco...dunnit?
With our ridiculously high automotive taxes, Denmark just isn't the place to dream about a nice car. Well, it actually isn't a country where dreaming of very many things are considered ok, but that's a different story.
But the dream I could dare to dream was of an Audi A4/S4 of some sort or maybe a Volvo V50. Yes...my automotive ambitions were indeed rusty after years in hibernation, but remember a Volvo V50 with full specs is around 120.000 USD here in DK. Yes..no kidding.
Then one beautiful day, when the sun touched the golden leaves of fall and the birds of my garden were busy singing hymns to the winter and the forspacious skies were....Ok, you get the picture.
One day I found IT. THE car. The must have, gotta-own-no-matter-if-I-get-a-divorce (had-I-been-married) -and-my-bank-shuts-down-my-business-kinda-car.
A Porsche Boxter (I later found out how to spell it correctly, but back then it was still a "Boxter" to me). And one of those S-models, too!
I had no real clue what the S in "Boxter S" meant, but I had heard that it had more horses...and perhaps more..something..else? Whatever it was, I had to have that S-factor!
Hard work, changing banks, a better biz were just some of the obstacles I had to face to get this car. The biggest one would be a mental one.
How to even consider buying a Porsche in the vaterland of the "don't think you're any better than the rest of us" mentality?
How to tell my clients? What to tell them? What if I go bankrupt? What signal would I send driving a car like this? Would I be too playboyish and smart? Too self-delicious?
Argh! Me was almost driving me insane...
Having had sleepless nights over this piece of metal for I dunno how long, and going back and forth on the deal, I asked myself one simple question:
"When you turn 70, will you regret not having bought this car?"
Naturally the answer was YES!
You only live once (until proven otherwise) and what's the worst that can happen?
Besides, the seller had the nerve to bring the car all the way from Germany to my home in DK...just to make it impossible for me to not buy it...so I just bought the darn thing!
Threw my monk's cloak in the closet and put a 4th mortgage on my girlfriend.
Next day: YEEEEEHAW!! and....WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING?!??! ARE YOU INSANE??...and YEEEEHAW!!!
I could simply not get my head around the fact, that I had purchased what I considered (and still do) one of the most beautiful cars ever built.
And I had a hard time figuring out if I had gone mental or simply just bought a piece of Heaven. (Might be the same thing..)
Holy macaroni on a sesame seed bun!
Now I just needed to wait for the beauty to get delivered to me. Paperwork by the truckload had to be taken care of before I could see my baby again, but heck...I could wait.
Maybe I called the seller 6-7 times a day asking different questions...but those were legitimate and very important questions!
Not being up-to-date on the exact intervals on your auto-wiper dial can be fatal. Anyone knows that.
Ok, THE Day finally dawned.
Having run out of nails I started biting my dogs toes instead...much to it's dismay, but it's a very tolerant dog I have.
Only 1 hour left and she would be mine, MINE, MINE!! FOREVER!!
I could see myself washing the lushious curves and vacuuming the carpets with the magic "PORSCHE" embroided.
I could already smell the leather and feel every curve and miniscule dent in the winding road as I floored my baby and she just ate her way thru the tarmac...I could just hear the phone ring..and hearing the seller telling me in a feeble voice that someone had just slid right into the back of...of...of...nonononono----NO NO!! Dont even joke about this. "Not a joke. The guy in the Ford Transit was awfully sorry...but he wasnt paying attention...".
WASNT PAYING ATTENTION!???!??!?! Let me talk to this guy for 20 seconds, and I'll show him how to pay attention!! AARGHRARH!!AAGRH!
When the blood started flowing back to my brain again, I found out that the Transit-guy had only accomplished some minor scratches and dents...something that could be fixed in a day or two.
Back to waiting again...and flushing down more Xanax.
The pickup and handover went as planned. No Transits in a mile's radius, no unexpected attack from Pterodactyles or angry mobs...no earthquakes or sudden global meltdown of Taiwan-produced Porsche ECU's or any some such.
Not that I in any way was paranoid...just..cautious.
(To be continued...)
A few years ago I opted to quit my job and start my own company.
A year later I often found myself wondering why on earth I did that.
No steady income, an unstabil client roster and a lot of payments on house and a car every month...good thinking!
But as fate and hard work would have it I my little biz started going well after a couple of years.
Starting a new company makes it virtually impossible for most people to even think about buying a new car..let alone a fun one...and exotics you can simply forget about. So I did. I basically stopped reading car magazines, turning my head after nice cars on the streets and pretty much became an automotive monk.
A year after I started my voluntary celebacy I was doing just fine....that is until a friend of mine did the unspeakable: He brought a stripper into the monestery!!! In other words: he bought an F 360 Spider. YIKES!
Even with most of my arms crammed into my ears I couldn't help hearing every single detail about this car...and when he lured me into the tender trap and took me for a spin I begged the Lord to give me strength to resist the Devil's handywork...but found none.
I was sucked right back into the pits of useless automotive shopping. that's where you're wasting money on anything from those bling-bling rims to that special air filter that would surely give the car at least 0.007 bhp more.
I was an addict once again. Having fought bravely for many months I now had to resign, give in and start subscribing to my old car mags...and even worse: Start dreaming of getting a better car.
Ok, so the biz wasn't exactly a goldmine, and perhaps my banker would send a bunch of hitmen after me, but hey...those are minor details.
Apart from the occasional spin in the occasional Ferrari I wasn't too focused daily on getting a better car. The ones I could get weren't the ones I wanted, and the ones I wanted weren't the ones I could get. Sounds like a night at the local disco...dunnit?
With our ridiculously high automotive taxes, Denmark just isn't the place to dream about a nice car. Well, it actually isn't a country where dreaming of very many things are considered ok, but that's a different story.
But the dream I could dare to dream was of an Audi A4/S4 of some sort or maybe a Volvo V50. Yes...my automotive ambitions were indeed rusty after years in hibernation, but remember a Volvo V50 with full specs is around 120.000 USD here in DK. Yes..no kidding.
Then one beautiful day, when the sun touched the golden leaves of fall and the birds of my garden were busy singing hymns to the winter and the forspacious skies were....Ok, you get the picture.
One day I found IT. THE car. The must have, gotta-own-no-matter-if-I-get-a-divorce (had-I-been-married) -and-my-bank-shuts-down-my-business-kinda-car.
A Porsche Boxter (I later found out how to spell it correctly, but back then it was still a "Boxter" to me). And one of those S-models, too!
I had no real clue what the S in "Boxter S" meant, but I had heard that it had more horses...and perhaps more..something..else? Whatever it was, I had to have that S-factor!
Hard work, changing banks, a better biz were just some of the obstacles I had to face to get this car. The biggest one would be a mental one.
How to even consider buying a Porsche in the vaterland of the "don't think you're any better than the rest of us" mentality?
How to tell my clients? What to tell them? What if I go bankrupt? What signal would I send driving a car like this? Would I be too playboyish and smart? Too self-delicious?
Argh! Me was almost driving me insane...
Having had sleepless nights over this piece of metal for I dunno how long, and going back and forth on the deal, I asked myself one simple question:
"When you turn 70, will you regret not having bought this car?"
Naturally the answer was YES!
You only live once (until proven otherwise) and what's the worst that can happen?
Besides, the seller had the nerve to bring the car all the way from Germany to my home in DK...just to make it impossible for me to not buy it...so I just bought the darn thing!
Threw my monk's cloak in the closet and put a 4th mortgage on my girlfriend.
Next day: YEEEEEHAW!! and....WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING?!??! ARE YOU INSANE??...and YEEEEHAW!!!
I could simply not get my head around the fact, that I had purchased what I considered (and still do) one of the most beautiful cars ever built.
And I had a hard time figuring out if I had gone mental or simply just bought a piece of Heaven. (Might be the same thing..)
Holy macaroni on a sesame seed bun!
Now I just needed to wait for the beauty to get delivered to me. Paperwork by the truckload had to be taken care of before I could see my baby again, but heck...I could wait.
Maybe I called the seller 6-7 times a day asking different questions...but those were legitimate and very important questions!
Not being up-to-date on the exact intervals on your auto-wiper dial can be fatal. Anyone knows that.
Ok, THE Day finally dawned.
Having run out of nails I started biting my dogs toes instead...much to it's dismay, but it's a very tolerant dog I have.
Only 1 hour left and she would be mine, MINE, MINE!! FOREVER!!
I could see myself washing the lushious curves and vacuuming the carpets with the magic "PORSCHE" embroided.
I could already smell the leather and feel every curve and miniscule dent in the winding road as I floored my baby and she just ate her way thru the tarmac...I could just hear the phone ring..and hearing the seller telling me in a feeble voice that someone had just slid right into the back of...of...of...nonononono----NO NO!! Dont even joke about this. "Not a joke. The guy in the Ford Transit was awfully sorry...but he wasnt paying attention...".
WASNT PAYING ATTENTION!???!??!?! Let me talk to this guy for 20 seconds, and I'll show him how to pay attention!! AARGHRARH!!AAGRH!
When the blood started flowing back to my brain again, I found out that the Transit-guy had only accomplished some minor scratches and dents...something that could be fixed in a day or two.
Back to waiting again...and flushing down more Xanax.
The pickup and handover went as planned. No Transits in a mile's radius, no unexpected attack from Pterodactyles or angry mobs...no earthquakes or sudden global meltdown of Taiwan-produced Porsche ECU's or any some such.
Not that I in any way was paranoid...just..cautious.
(To be continued...)
