My friend David got his ’69 Porsche 912 for his sixteenth birthday. Our class of ’73 turned sixteen 45 years ago. Even someone as mathematically challenged as myself can figure that one out. David has owned his car for 45 years. Let that sink in for a bit. 45 years. I’ve known sixteen year old kids who didn’t even own a car 45 minutes. I got a Meyers Manx dune buggy when I was sixteen and drove it exactly two months. Hell, I’ve known men going through middle aged crises who bought a Porsche and tore it up within two weeks. 45 years… it’s mind boggling.
David’s Porsche was the first one I had ever really seen outside of magazines. I remember pulling up next to it in the gym parking lot and gawking over it, mesmerized. It had things in it you had read about but never seen. Leather seats. An AM/FM radio. A five speed transmission. Five speeds! That was two more than I had on the tree of my ’65 Fairlane! It was a beautiful bright orange, with white graphic panels on the sides. When Dave cranked it up, it purred like a sewing machine. It was like no car I had seen before or since, and I fell in love with Porsches on the spot.
David drove the car pretty much every day through high school, college and beyond. The fact that he kept it in such good shape at such a young age speaks volumes about his maturity level, something I certainly was not familiar with at that age. He has had the 912 completely restored, still painted that beautiful bright orange. It makes regular appearances at our high school reunions, looking clean and pristine. He owns several other Porsches now as well, but I would hazard an educated guess that the 912 is the one David could never part with.
Such is the bond between man and machine. Over time they become part of us. Be it a car, bike, boat or plane, the link becomes inseparable. A certain vehicle becomes part of our identity, and when we climb into it or straddle it and fire it up, we are filled with a warmth and happiness only we can understand. The open road, space and time are different in these vehicles, a feeling that really cannot be described. We spend hours cleaning and polishing, tinkering and tuning, petting and pampering. We will not think twice about spending whatever it takes to keep our baby humming along, yet balk at going to the doctor ourselves because it’s just too darned expensive.
David’s car can be seen in the Classic Car Gallery portion of this website, “The Duke”. I hope I was able to capture some of the beauty of this fine machine. And, my hat’s off to Dave. He has managed to hold onto and preserve something that very few, if any of us, have. 45 years… Still Cruisin’!
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