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Mechanical Music. A Song of Porsche.

I heard it before I saw it.  What made this vehicle so different from all the others?  It was small and it was loud.  It had a form follows function kind of look. I was smitten.

Growing up, we lived halfway up a long straight hill that went south from the town green. Cows grazed across the street.  It was beautiful then and still is. This was a long time ago when safety was not an issue and kids could just be kids.  Our parents would say “Go out in the yard and play.  Take the dog.“ and  so we did.  The dog’s name was Princess, our German Shepard.  She was a sweetheart who loved everyone except for the unfortunate fellow who delivered our groceries.  We took the hint and kept her away from him.  Princess could put on a very scary act.  It usually included the dog word GRRRRrrrrrrr!

When a thorough inspection of the yard was completed to our satisfaction and boredom set in, my brother Tom and I began to travel farther away, especially as we got older and other neighborhood friends joined us.  The thing that strikes me most as I remember this is how quiet it was in those days. There was little noise since the houses were set back from the road and the properties were large in our little town. So time went on and we made the most of it – sledding through icy winters and skating on Turtle Pond.  We sweated through sizzling summers.  Time seemed endless then, like a rubber band stretched out to forever – or September, whichever came first. (September always won. I think it was fixed.) The moon seemed to rise in our front yard. Evenings thrummed with the overtures of countless katydids looking for love.  Mosquitoes buzzed and bit us.  Sometimes rain would storm the roof accompanied by a whole percussion ensemble.  The wind played the tree branches like guitar strings.  I loved the myriad notes that comprised the symphony of nature.  I loved to listen.

I began to learn that in addition to nature’s sounds, machines of all kinds, lawn mowers, tractors, trucks and cars all had their own song to sing.   There was one that was vastly different from all the rest and it intrigued me. It was a car.  It belonged to our neighbor up the street and its voice stood out from the rest.  It was not softened or muffled or changed in any way.   So began my quest.  I wanted one. It was my first introduction to the magnificent machine that is Porsche.

The years went by, high school and college, work and marriage, but I always saw this car in my future and heard its siren song.   It became a joke with my family who would ask me what I wanted for my birthday.  I would always say a Porsche.  They would laugh.   In the following years they attempted to satisfy me with T shirts, jackets, models. HMMMPH!  I wanted the real thing.

I would see these cars sometimes driving by or parked somewhere but they were never right.    Eventually I came to believe that I would remain Porsche-less.

But this was not to be.  Karma was about to give me the greatest gift I would ever receive.  Out in the beautiful state of New Mexico, in the mountains east of Albuquerque, my brother began to build, restore and repair.  I loved to hear what he was working on.  Just like when we were kids, even though 2100 miles separated us, we still were very present in each other’s lives and always good friends. He would send photos of his work and would actually ASK me for my opinion.  Sometimes he would send a close up or a small detail and I would try to guess what it was.

One day my computer display glowed red with a horizontal wrap-around tail light.  Well, there was no mistaking this.  My brother had bought a Porsche.  I sent him an email immediately with only one sentence: I hate your guts!  Really, I was so happy for him and only a tiny bit envious.  This car was a 1973 Porsche 911 Targa.  It was in good shape, “just needed a few little things”.   During the next two years he took the car apart piece by piece. This is Tom’s way. He puts such attention and care into everything he makes. He took photos at every step.  White paint went back to its original black.  The interior and  seats were reupholstered in new leather. It got new rugs and Targa top.   Every part large and small was restored, hundreds, maybe thousands of them

The 1973 Porsche 911 Targa today

Then it was finished.  One day Tom said to me ‘I think you should have the Porsche’ and I said ‘heck yes!’  It was karma calling, after all.  We worked out the details and had it shipped in an enclosed car carrier.  This truck was too big to fit on our road and so my new baby was unloaded and driven up the hill to our house.

Then, as before, I heard it before I saw it.

Thank you, Tom.

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3 Comments

  1. Allen Fossbender

    What a wonderful article!

  2. Arno Schiebler

    What a wonderful story! Thanks for sharing.
    Don´t we all have our personal “Porsche story” to tell?
    Greetings from Germany and happy driving with this beautiful car.

    Arno

  3. Bill Taglia

    What a beautiful sister/brother relationship.

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