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Fall 2002 - My New S My stomach was in a bit of a fit as the plane came over the mountains to land at the Ontario Airport, east of Los Angeles. The air was calm and I fly a lot, so there wasn’t a fear of flying. It was nerves - my second attempt to buy a car that I found on the Internet. The first one was an old VW, a couple of years ago, when I took the sellers word about the lack of rust and I got burned – no, actually I froze because the heater channels were rusted thru. If all went well this would be MY first Porsche, a 1973 911S I found advertised on the Early 911S Registry web site. I was more diligent this time, lots of questions, photos, phone calls and a pre-purchase inspection. Every thing said “GO”, so I sent a non refundable deposit and bought a one-way Seattle to Ontario plane ticket (a sure way to get the full body airport security screen). This had been a long time coming - when I was a kid my father and I coveted the early 911’s. Then in 1978, when I was 18, Dad flew from our home in Boise to Portland to pick-up a brand new SC. Somehow my little sister got to go along for the drive home and Dad still tells the story of Sis crying for fear that he was going to jail when they got pulled over for speeding through the high desert of Eastern Oregon. The only time I ever drove his SC was the 5 miles from our home to the airport, on my way to boot camp and life as an adult. Flash forward fifteen years – I married a great woman who among other attributes is a sports car enthusiast. Soon after the wedding we decided it was time to do some car shuffling and I convinced her to give up her Miata, because I needed a new SUV. She wasn’t happy at all driving the old ‘big’ car and before long she had a nice 82 911SC parked in her spot in the garage. A few more years went by and the SC turned into a 2000 Boxster - still parked in ‘her’ spot. I’d been relegated to the SUV’s because I need room to haul my surfboards (yes, we do and yes, it’s cold). Occasionally, after much negotiating I was allowed a day in one of the fun cars. I know, I know, but for peace in the home we make our sacrifices. Anyway, I’ve always said there is nothing sexier than a nice looking woman behind the wheel of a beautiful Porsche. So now, after 25 years, it was my turn - as long as the plane landed safely, the seller showed to pick me up, the car wasn’t a wreck and it would make the long drive back to Seattle. No anxiety, just a little nerves. As it turned out the plane landed right on time, the seller was there, the car was more beautiful than the photos, the deal was done and I was on the road in two hours. Driving an early S, for the first time is quiet an experience, not one I suggest trying on the L.A. freeways. My nerves were turned up again for the first hour until I found northbound I-5 and got out of the basin. What a rush, climbing the hills! Traveling alone with the windows down and the sun beating in, the high revs of the engine were all that I listened to for hours. She just seemed perfect - tight, fast, clean and shiny. It’s a 1,250 mile straight shot home on I-5, but after spending the first night in Sacramento I new we needed to hit the mountains. On the road early as the sun was peaking over the eastern mountains it cast a perfect 911 silhouette shadow along the side of the freeway. From the drivers seat this would be my first photo shot of the trip.
Blasting up I-5 into the southern Cascade Mountains I finally started to really feel what the early S is all about – exhilarating, corner hugging, power and speed. It was better than I anticipated – absolute fun. After passing Mt. Shasta I detoured off I-5 on Hwy. 97 towards the Oregon border and Klamath Falls.
The highway in Northern California was nice with plenty of passing lanes and a 65 mph speed limit. On the same highway, but crossing into Oregon, led to 55 mph speed limits and far fewer passing lanes. The fun quotient dropped by several levels, but none-the-less I was driving my S and loving it. I got a great photo along this stretch when I spotted an aging water tower and a handful of old buildings cast against the back drop of autumn grain and brilliant blue sky. I pulled the bright red S over, stopped, jumped out, ran to the middle of the highway, snapped one shot and took off. Turns out that the composition of the photo is pretty good – it looks staged, but I was stopped no more that 30 seconds.
Later in the afternoon I was coming back down out of the Cascades heading towards Medford. I was stuck behind a long slow line of cars for several miles, when I saw an opportunity to move to the front of the line I took it. Just as I was winding down from the 90 mph pass, one of Oregon’s finest came around the corner in the up-hill direction.
I saw his brake lights in my rearview mirror, but by the time he got turned around he was behind the long slow line of cars. I stayed right at the speed limit it and took him several miles to pass and catch-up, for awhile I thought I’d gotten away. Turns out he was pretty nice about everything, seemed to understand the passing and was real interested in all the details about the early S. No ticket – fair warning. Back on I-5 we needed one more night of rest in Eugene and then 6 more hours of boring freeway the next morning. Finally at home the red S got a bath before I did and then tucked into the paddock next to ‘her’ Boxster. Now I just have to wait out the rainy season – and no, she hasn’t driven the S yet.
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This article first appeared in Porsche Spiel magazine (Jan. 2003), published by the Porsche Club of America Pacific Northwest region. Copyright Mark Powell 2002 |
