3/19/17
OK, I did it. 11 and a half months after my 1977 911 Targa caught fire in my garage, I bought another 911. This one is a beautiful, well mostly beautiful, 1974 911 Targa. I did not need it, but I wanted it. I felt unfulfilled with my experience with my 1977 911. I also felt a deep sense of loss because I never got to know and enjoy the car before it burned. The 1977 was a project car. The 1974 is not. It is a very nice, mostly stock, 1974 911. Sure it has a few issues, but it is 43 years old. So issues are to be expected and they will be dealt with over time.
My friend Mark sold it to me a week ago. Yes, the same Mark who was my mentor on the 1977 Targa project. We just never got to get into the project phase. Anyway, Mark is rebalancing his car portfolio and decided to sell the 1974. I had seen the car and liked it. So I bought it.
I placed the 912 into our newly refurbished garage, where it has been sitting for a week, because I needed room in the driveway for the 911. I was already on thin ice with Pam for buying the 911. I did
not need to make it any thinner by not leaving her room to park her car in the driveway. The 912 has issues and needs work. I will get to them, soon. First, though, I wanted to play with the 911.
When I picked it up from Mark, he gave me specific instructions because the car had been sitting for about six months. I heard two out of the three things he said. I followed one half of one of them.
He told me to fill up the car with gas. I heard that. He told me to get a bottle of fuel system cleaner and put in while I filled up the tank. I did not hear that. He told me to get it out on the freeway and drive it at least 60 miles at a decently high rpm. I heard that. On Sunday, I did not get around to taking the car out until the afternoon. I looked at the gas tank, and noted it was three quarters full. So I opted to skip getting gas. I got on the freeway and it was packed. So I drove it about 10 miles before I got off and turned around. I ended up in worse traffic going home. So I got off the freeway and did some city driving. I mean, driving is driving, right? Apparently not.
I drove it to work on Monday. I drove it to work on Wednesday. Everything was fine until I tried to start it to go to lunch on Wednesday. The car would not start. As we have established before, I am not very mechanically literate. So if the car does not start, it must be the battery. Yeah, it was turning over, but I just assumed it was not getting enough spark. So I called AAA to get a jump start. While I was waiting, I called Mark, who was not available. Eventually, the AAA guy showed up, tested the battery, and said it was fine. Of course, the car still would not start. At that point I assumed it was the fuel pump, but that was just a hunch based on the fact that the battery was fine.
I believed the car had to be towed. So I called Marc, my mechanic friend who specializes in Porsches. As luck would have it, Marc’s shop was full. He was uncomfortable with me bringing the car in. So I was in a quandary, as I could not decide what to do with the car. The AAA guy was waiting for me to make a decision so we could order the flatbed. Just about then Mark called back.
I explained the situation. His first words to me were, “Did you do what I told you to do on Saturday when you picked up the car?” What could I say? I was not sure what that had to do with this, so I said, “Not exactly.” That was not the right thing to say. I told him what I had done on Sunday. That got me a well deserved earful about knowing when to follow directions and how if I did not follow them, he would, justifiably, stop giving them to me.
After he calmed, he asked me if I wanted to start the car. I said, “Yes!” He walked me through taking the air cleaner off and manipulating a component in the air flow system, which he said might have been stuck and preventing air to get into the engine. After that, he walked me through the multi-step process used to properly start the car. Of course, the car started right up. I smiled. The AAA guy left. Mark reiterated the instructions he had given me earlier. This time I heard the part about the fuel system cleaner.
Mark made me promise to complete all the steps exactly. I told him I would. On the way home, I put in the fuel system cleaner. I filled up the tank. On Saturday before I went to breakfast with my Porsche friends, I took the car on a 60 plus mile freeway jaunt. Mark was out of town Saturday so he was not at breakfast, That did not stop him from calling me at a few minutes after 8 AM when the parking lot portion of breakfast was starting. He asked me the following question: “Are you on the side of the road?” I said, “No.” He asked if I was at the Spitfire. I said, “Yes.” He asked me if I followed his directions exactly. I said, “Yes.” He said good and then promptly instructed me to do it all again the next week. What could I say to that? I said, “OK.”
So I have had the car a week, and I have put about 180 miles on it, about six times the number of miles I put on the 1977 before it burned. I love this car. It is a visceral experience to drive it. It is loud and bumpy. The wind whistles. Every thing is manual from the window cranks to the steering to the brakes. I feel every nook and cranny in the road, not to mention the real bumps, through the steering wheel. The steering is unbelievably direct. The brakes require a solid push. The grip coming out of a turn is out of this world, as the tail heavy 911 hunkers down and accelerates. It by no means would be a daily driver, but it will be lots of fun.