914, the Different Obsession
Codependency is the term used now to describe the process of similarly inclined individuals jointly enabling certain behaviors, especially in a group setting. PCA is full of codependents, happily feeding off of our common obsession. Some people become more consumed by the “Porsche thing” than others. Perhaps it is due to lingering “not a real Porsche” feelings left over from the early days of the 914, but most 914 owners seem to exhibit even more obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) than a “typical” Porschephile.
I’m glad to say that I am beyond all that. I can quit anytime I want to. I’m just not going to right now, because the other 914 owners I’ve come to know through the internet are, uh, helping me, uh, understand myself better.
I’ve had this car 18 years, and we still try to find “quality time” together almost every night. Sometimes we start yanking off valve covers in the middle of the day, even. Passion runs strong in us OCD types. I can’t get through the day without an allegedly brief visit to 914world.com or the Pelican Parts BBS, but only to see what horrors are confronting those poor souls still afflicted like I once was. And who says it is wrong to sit in a parked car in a closed garage watching Speed on TV. Until I put a TV in the garage, I was woefully out of touch with current events, like the prices reached at Barrett-Jackson.
If I had devoted as much effort over the last 18 years to my own appearance and physical capability as I have to my car’s attributes, I would look to be in my prime, and be stronger than ever before. I have an enormous list of modifications and upgrades to the car that no one with an actual life would ever even care to know about. I have libraries of technical data that could bore even the most introverted of readers. I have photographs of events and occurrences that will subdue a Starbucks customer. If I don’t have my hands on her, I’m looking at these reminders of the times we’ve had together. But I can quit any time.
It’s not time yet, is it?
There are a few external rewards to my 914 obsession. There are more internal rewards.
External: “Hey, I haven’t seen one of those in years- that looks great!”
Internal (1): “Yes, like God, I give eternal life.” Internal (2): “You can’t even see the good stuff.” Internal (3): “I didn’t pay someone else to make it this way (because my skills are SO awesome).”
External: “You Porsche types are so high-tech.”
Internal: “Impressive, isn’t it?”
External: “Hm, Porsche, you must be rich!”
Internal: “OK, whatever….”
External: “Would you return this library book, Dad?”
Internal(1) “Time to drive!.” Internal (2) “Time to drive!” Internal (3) “Time to drive!”
There may be repercussions to all this 914 mania. Fortunately, I can successfully ignore almost anything while I’m under the car. Perhaps the biggest challenge is in keeping my mind on the job that pays for the parts I must buy, and also food and housing, etc. I only have about 10 scale Porsches here at my office, and some pictures, and some technical books, and race ticket stubs, and computer desktop pictures, and computer screensaver pictures, and my Concours d’Elegance trophy, and Tail of the Dragon map. That’s all. I can make room to do work if I have a little time.
My 914 justifies my existence. Strangers take pleasure from it, thanks to my thorough maintenance and moderate improvements. Children and young women seem to be impressed- as long as I keep my distance. Small animals don’t feel threatened. In fact, no one seems threatened. And I don’t want to scare that guy in the Caymen S. It isn’t fair to him. Perhaps the only entity that really focuses on the “Porsche” part of the car is my insurance company (and my wife- when parts are needed). Then financial solvency is threatened. That’s why banks make loans.
911? Sure I want one. But the 914 took my Porsche virginity, so it will always be the one I come home to. The car was a cute little 17 year-old when we met in 1989. For all intents and purposes, it still cuts a youthful demeanor, and as long as I stay delusional, and everyone else just looks at the car, time has ALMOST stopped. If the car stays young, the driver does too, right? I feel young when I drive, so I’m getting back behind the wheel soon (before it is too late). Remember to flash those headlights. It’s the secret handshake for the POCDA.
