It was 1966 and I was just discharged from the Navy. My brother bought a MGB and after my first drive I was hooked on European sports cars. My next car, a Triumph TR-250 held my attention for couple years then I tried a Fiat 124 Coupe. They were both fun but I was looking for something to get the adrenline flowing. I had decided to buy an Austin Healey 3000 when one day, while speeding along the Florida Turnpike, a Porsche 911 blew by me like I was in reverse. The hook was set, I was in lust. About a month later the Fiat was gone and a 5 year old 1967 911S was sitting in my driveway.
I knew the 911S was fast but the first time I ran it to the redline, felt the kick and heard the exhaust note I knew I had found my soul mate. Now came the surprises. A week later, SNAP, the clutch goes to the floor and stays there. Turns out experienced early 911 owners knew to carry an extra plastic clutch cable clevis. Experienced early 911 owners also know that putting a battery over suspension and steering parts is not a good idea. One day soon after, as I was pulling into the driveway, SNAP/CLUNK, the right front suspension seperates from the the pan. This time not a cheap fix.
Of coarse, by now all my "muscle car" friends are having a good laugh, "you paid that much for that little thing". The laughing stopped after I took them for their first ride. Now I was getting some respect.
The next 2 years were good. I Found my human soul mate. We travel here, we traveled there, we traveled everywhere. We joined the Porsche Club. We pampered the car, it got a paint job and new upholstery. She was looking great.
Apparently, someone else also thought she was looking great. I was attending night classes at the time. Class ended and as I walked to the parking lot I'm thinking "where did I park...I'm sure it was right here where there was now an empty spot. I walked around for awhile looking, hoping it hadn't happened, but it had. Never saw it again. We bought a 911T Targa but it wasn't the same...you can never replace your first love.