Ever since I was a teenager, I've lusted after one of these cars. They seemed well-engineered, and exciting. They were esoteric, and unobtainable. They weren't very common, and were praised as very special. I didn't understand engineering yet, and I didn't even have a license to drive. But the cars impressed me to no end.
Throughout junior high school, I collected pictures and magazines and pasted 'em in my notbook. After a while, the realization that such a car was a million years and a zillion years away took hold, and I shelved my desires. A few years ago, though, I bought a Mazda RX-7 and became something of a car nut.
All the magazines I read still sang the praises of the Porsches. Used ones, new ones—everyone loves those rigs. The Boxter came out and gave the magazines a renewed and even deeper interest in the cars.
When I decided I wanted to have something besides my RX-7, I started shoppign for a sporty but more practical car. I looked at the Boxters for a little while, but found them underpowered and overpriced. I thought a used 911 might be a good idea, even though it might not meet my desire for something a little more practical. The cars were neat, but they seemed terribly spare inside. For the same price I'd pay for a used 911, or for less than I'd pay for a new Boxter, I decided to buy a BMW M3 Coupe.
I was blathering on about my decision one night at The Goose, my favorite bar. One of my friends has been restoring a yellow 1971 911S, and got on my case about it. He pressured me for weeks after that conversation; he wanted me to buy an older RS America, or maybe even a Turbo, and trick it out. The idea was appealing: I'd spend lots less than I would for a new car, but I just couldn't do it because Steve (the 911S owner) went nuts one night. He pounded on the table. "Here's reasonable, Mike". Far to his left, he pounded again. "Here's insane." Then, he slapped his hands together. "You want to be right here. Right on the edge!"
The older cars weren't too interesting to me. They're plenty fast and had the classic handling characteristics, but I couldn't justify sitting in their interior. I knew they were true sports cars, and had come to appreciate the engineering that went into them. But I couldn't stare at the plain dash and boring creature comforts without feeling like I'd been robbed.
Finally, the new 996's came out. I sat in one; I couldn't believe how the restyled interior made the car seem more complete. The interior was more comfortable, more subtle, and more refined. It's still a real sports car, with just a softer edge. That was fine with me: I'd be able to take the car to the track eight times a year at best. I wanted something that would make me happy in traffic, or while driving on long trips, too.
And was it ever! We drove up to the Whistler ski resort and back to Vancouver on Route 99. In the pissing rain! The twisty secondary highway and the challenging weather made the experience all the more enjoyable. I couldn't believe how stiff and solid the car was. The engine sang to me from the back seat, and I was hooked.
Before too long, I found myself at Barrier Motors talking with a salesman. I sat in a new 996 again, and was still overwhelmed by the interor. Even if the car wasn't as aggressive as the older models, I was still sold. We spent five hours, one afternoon, talking about different options and looking at price sheets.
The funny thing was that the cars were brand new; they weren't even officially announced yet. The option sheet the dealer gave me was a bad photocopy with missing prices, smudges, and a manufacturer's suggested retail price of "$0"! I wanted the Carrera 4 because it had all-wheel drive and the traction management systems. It would be great for the cold rainy winters in Seattle, and reduce my nerves about handling the car in the dizzying traffic around here. Nobody had even seen one of these babies, not to mention having driven one or put different options into them.
Unfortunately, being such an early customer meant that I didn't know certain options were available. They were introduced after I placed my order—some of the leather trim options, for example, weren't available to me.
The options list is amazing. You can supply a sample and Porshce will match the interior or exterior of your car to the sample! I joked with the salesman about matching the car to Mr. Kitty, my ficticious cat, but I'm not sure he thought it was funny.
From the options list, I picked all sorts of exciting toys. A navigation system, and all sorts of interior leather. I upgraded the wheels and bought a nice sound system. I really wanted the areodynamics package that's offered on the car, but nobody could show me a car that had the kit installed. And it's a $7,800 option! What if I ordered it and didn't like it?
The next couple weeks were like junior high school again. I searched the web and every magazine I could find to convince myself that the aerodynamic package would be a worthwhile option. I finally convinced myself to do it; I decided the darn kit.
I spent more than four hours at Barrier one afternoon to discuss all my options. I had to look at many different cars to see each option, and try to imagine the car with all the toys I'd decided to use. The funny thing is that I never saw some of the options at all. They didn't have a car with the full leather, though they did have cars with some of the other individual options I had wanted.
And what colours would I pick? I thought hard about Vesuvio Grey Metallic on an interior of Space Grey leather. That looked really nice in the brochures. Vesuvio was a grey that had a strong purple overtones— something like metallic eggplant. The grey interior would be dark, but light enough so that you'd know it was grey. The car would look great.
Liz, though, found some extra pages in the paint sample binder. It turns out that you could get some custom colors—at a great extra cost— from the book. Instead of matching to a sample, they'd use a special run of one of these older colours to paint your car. We picked Slate Grey Metallic, which was certainly a brighter colour than Vesuvio, but certianly grey. It looked like a charcoal pencil scribble. I was just great; but then I had to re-think the interior choice. Since there weren't many different leather colours I could choose, we settled on black. The lighter grey exterior made the dark black interior seem feasible.
But after that long discussion, the dealer revealed that they didn't have any available order dates for my car! The earliest they could find a build date for me would be in April, and they weren't even sure about that. I was terribly frustrated. I called around to other dealers, which made me feel bad since the guys at Barrier had spent so much time with me.
In Tacoma, I found Robert Larson Autohaus. They were willing to work with me to get an order they were placing for stock changed over to be my own car, with all my custom options! They figured the car would be built in Februrary and be delivered sometime in May.
I drove down to the dealership the next day at lunch. I talked with the salesman, who didn't seem much more knowledgeable than the Barrier guys; the car was brand-new, and nobody knew much about it. I was committed, though, to having it. I'd deal with a little uncertainty until the car could be delivered to me. They estimated the price of the car at about $109,000 (including all my options) and only wanted $5,000 down.
Such a small down-payment made me feel funny. Since the car was being ordered to my specification, it seemed odd that they'd take such a small down payment in order to get the order rolling. What if the car arrived and I couldn't pay? What if the car arrived and I decided I didn't want it? Five grand seemed like noting compared to the total value of the car.
About once a week, the dealer would send a FAX notifying me of my car's progress. The first bit of news was a huge setback, but my confusion made the revelation actually good news! I thought the car would go into production in February, but it turns out that Porsche expected the car to be done before the end of Februrary! The dealer initially notified me that the the car would be done around February 6th, but the bad news that it wwouldn't be done until February 22nd. A two week-setback, but since I thought the car wouldn't start building until the end of the month, I was ahead of the game.
In the meantime, the magazines were just going nuts about the car. Everyone couldn't believe how uninvasive the handling system was, but how—once it did step in—the car was readily controllable. One of the articles said that the system would convert any ordinary schmuck into a racing hero. That was certainly me!
I didn't know what to do with myself. I bought the factory service manuals. I read everything I could. I thought hard about the decision I had made to buy the car. It was easy to feel like I was doing the right thing based on the magazine articles. But was the car really worth the money I was paying? Would it really be a hundred-thousand dollar driving experience once I got behind the wheel? Each of the options seemed a little overpriced. Were each worth it?
Finally, the car was at port. All Porsches enter the United States through Charleston, North Carolina. The cars are unloaded and inspected, and then shipped by truck to the dealer for pickup. The thing was that Liz and I had planned to go to Monterey, California, to see her brother. We would drive, too. Of course, I was hoping that the Porsche would be in town and that I could make the run in my brand-new car. I had to settle for taking the ride in a rental, though, since the BMW was in the shop and Liz' new Jeep hadn't yet been delivered.
Worse yet, since I'm so bad at Californian geography, we spent all that time right in Monterey and I didn't know we were in the shadow of Laguna Seca! I found out about it more than a week after we returned home. Even if I didn't go to the track to do anything interesting, I could still have visited the museum or taken a picture of myself at the gate.
On the day we left, I checked my voicemail to find the car was waiting for me. I could stop by and pick it up at any time. I was thrilled, but also a little worried because I hadn't been ready to make the payment. I'd need to call my stock broker and move some things around, and it would take at least a week before the settlement check came and I was ready to pay off the purchase.
On the drive back, my girlfriend worked me into a frenzy. She used the cell phone to call the dealership and get directions. Then, she kept telling me how far the exit to the dealer was and amping me up about finally seeing the car, about finally ending the wait.
Wow. I'm a Porsche owner!
Sitting in the car the first time was absolutely overwhelming. It reeked of new car and leather. The controls were shiny and new; I wondered what secrets the engine held for me.
Everything looked acceptable, though there was a rough spot on the front bumper. The salesman said it would buff off, no problem—that it was probably grease that the soap-and-water wash they gave the car didn't cut. I later noticed a matching scuff on the other side of the bumper; the clearcoat was certainly damaged and it wasn't anything that would wash away. It didn't take much detective work to realize that the car was nose-to-tail with another Porsche, and the bumper blocks on the back of some other car had scuffed the front of my car.
I didn't push about getting it fixed; I was drunk with anticipation for my new car.
We drove home and went to the dealership where Liz's new Jeep was waiting. Two new vehicles on one day! It was startling that we'd pick them both up on the same day. And I was insane with anticipation. We moved all the stuff from the renter into the Jeep, and then dropped off the renter. I was insane with urgency. We had to go to the bank to get some paperwork, and go home to see if the check from my broker had arrived. We had to then drive back through rush-hour traffic to the dealership to pick up my Porsche before the dealership closed their business office.
The numbers were final, too. The bill of sale showed that I paid more than fourteen thousand dollars in tax and licensing fees. That's enough to buy a brand-new, cheap import. Or a decent domestic car, like a Dodge Neon. I remembered my first job, when my salary was only slightly more for the first year.
Everything fit together, though. Liz rode me home and to the bank. But there was a problem: I didn't have the check from the broker! The dealer said that he'd let me float the check I had intended to write. They promised not to cash it until I phoned them up and told them it was good. I couldn't believe it: I was going to buy a Porsche on a post-dated check!
But life hasn't been problem-free. After a spirited drive in the country, I found that the car was leaking oil. It's hard to over-state the stress of finding a big spot of oil on the floor underneath a very expensive, new car.
Worse yet, the guys at Barrier were not very good at competantly fixing the car. I brought it in to have the problem diagnosed, and they agreed: it's leaking oil. I went in again, and they said they didn't have the parts and would have to order them. The third time I went in, they said they had discovered that the parts they ordered were the right part numbers but the wrong part. The car sat on the lift for six days until they could get the work done.
Finally, it's fixed. But while waiting for the fix, the air-bag light on the dashboard came on. This is a pretty common problem with the 996 cars; Porsche blames the problem on the vendor who supplies the seatbelt buckles and replaces the buckles to fix the problem. Of course, Barrier said that the parts were in stock. Though they had the car for a week and a half, they didn't fix it. (I couldn't pick it up immediately as I was out of town on a business trip.)
These problems make me feel like a fool for spending so much on a car. But, every morning, seeing that little monster in my garage makes that notion subside. And throwing the car into a corner, or rapping it out on an exit ramp, or stomping it up the big hill where I live. Well, those things make nearly all of my problems seem lots less important.
Last modified on 15 June, 1999.
