Jim's Motor Pool

March 2022 [updates in brackets]

In late 2009, I wrote two articles in my Porsche Club of America’s newsletter, Der Wirbelsturm (German for swirling wind, my region is called Hurricane, get it?).  The first was about a fictional Porsche minivan prototype and I followed that with an article called “Confessions of Car Guy - Mach 1 to Minivan.” With the help of my insurance company’s documents, I numbered my vehicles up through #30. I’m now at #32 [now #38]. I go to meetings regularly where fellow car guys help each other with our addiction. It’s not like AA, it’s called PCA. That article was one page, so in this blog is the rest of the story. I have four [two] vehicles in my motor pool now. This is about how I got here. 

Introduction

Jim Lamb's Origins

I grew up in the military as an only child, therefore I was a “military brat.” My birth announcement said I was “The Little Aviator.” I did Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts, and Air Explorers. I earned the highest NRA marksmanship award. I was Maine State Skeet Shooting Champion and State Indoor Rifle Team Champion. I was selected to go the the USAF Academy, but was rejected for English grades, while earning Honors in English from National Merit Scholarship Testing. I saw 48 states (+Mexico, Canada, & Japan) before I went into the Air Force as a KC-135 tanker pilot. We moved every three years on average. I am now in the first house I’ve ever stayed in for more than four years. I retired from American Airlines as a pilot at age 60 (2006). My dad was a WW II and Korean War bombardier, weather observer, then navigator. He loved wood and drove only three vehicles in all the time I remember. My mother was a gadget nut and a hot shoe in a car. (“Drive as I say, not as I do!”) We were a Ford family back then, so we knew a few salesmen well. She would jump in behind the fire trucks with her red ’55 Ford station wagon and I would grab hold of the door grab so as to not go sliding across those slick nylon bench seats. She knew sounds like a generator bearing or wheel bearing going bad. I blame my addiction on my mother.

Post 1 - The High School Years

Pre-Driver Training

Before a couple of buddies and I could get a driver’s license, we thought we would get the jump on driver training classes. We would use the other two teenagers’ parents’ cars for practice driving, without their parents’ knowledge. Have you ever tried to push a ’58 Buick Roadmaster 75? (I think I heard a “NO.”) Sometimes the parents were home, so we would push the car about 100 yards, fire it up, drive without lights for a bit, then find the lesser travelled roads. One night the lights came on to display a ditch ahead. What is the stopping distance of a Buick Roadmaster at 25 MPH on gravel?

One day (parents gone), we decided to pick on a ’60 VW Bus. I drew the short straw and was the pusher. My trusty buddy would be the steerer, and the VW owner’s son (who may have been short a gear) hopped in the passenger seat. As I pushed the Type 2 out of the garage, the owner’s son opened the passenger door to check the clearance from the garage door frame, as it rapidly approached (I was built like a football player, then). The passenger door became the only non-flat part of the bus. Eventually, the pre-driver training ended when trusty’s father came out to the garage ‘frig to get a beer, and the garage was empty. Trusty’s father was standing in the street when we coasted the unlit Buick home. 

Vehicle Zero

This one doesn't count, sort of. When I was 16, in Maine, I did driver training in high school from Mr. Dusty Roades, no kidding; ‘60s Ford Galaxy, three speed column shift, clutch, power nothing. The longest pause I can remember is when, after having my license for a week, I asked my dad if I could take my friends to the base theater. It was actually, 45 minutes. I had a flat tire and learned, the hard way, that the lug nuts on the right side turn the opposite way every other US car does, on a ’53 Plymouth, my loaner car during the second half of my Bangor High School days. Car knowledge item #1.

“My” Plymouth too, was a three-on-the-tree, but it had another lever under the dash that engaged overdrive. It was a tough and reliable transport and I was a teenager in heaven. My mother did have to use a hair drier on the carburetor some cold Maine mornings at 6 AM. It was a magazine cover car, along with my dad’s new-er wheels, a ’60 Ford Falcon. The Air Force Times magazine took a picture of our two driveway cars after a heavy snow storm. It was of level snow, with only two antennas poking up through the snow. It took a few seconds to figure out there were cars in the snow.

Speaking of snow, between my ’53 Plymouth on snow tires and my buddy’s dad’s Morris Mini, I learned valuable skills about car control on ice and snow. I got stuck in the snow only once. For example, we would use an icy, inclined parking lot to drop a bocci ball on the uphill side, then charge down toward the stream, cross the ball’s path perpendicularly and have the passenger open the door and grab it as it went under the car. I’m not sure Top Gear has done that one, yet. We prepared for the Monte Carlo Rally with the Mini in a not yet developed housing development streets.

One way to pay for gas (at 30.9¢/gal.) was to charge schoolmates for rides to/from school. I charged 15¢ one way, 25¢ round trip, and an extra 10¢ for “joy rides.” Mind you, I usually pumped in 50¢ of gas at a time, unless my mother used the Plymouth, then the gas went above the rust line in the tank. Jim’s Motor Pool Taxi service worked nicely until one parent found out, and told my mother. After that, all but my inner-circle rode the yellow bus, spending an extra half hour each way.

Actually, one day the taxi service thing work out so well. As part of the joy ride package, we had a coordinated trick. One day we took the long way home from school, with a full load and a “joy ride.” As we cleared traffic on a straight country road, I gave the nod to my front seat passenger/accomplice, he secretly grabbed the bottom of the steering wheel and I raised both hands in the air and said “Look, no hands!” The back seat went nuts. The guy behind me hit me over the head with his text book, driving my two front teeth into the pre-airbag, cast iron steering wheel hub, breaking them into two fangs with diagonal breaks. I told my parents that I slipped and fell in the locker room and hit a door knob. They bought it, along with military paying the dental bill. (Look closely at the photo to see the open face metal caps.)

My other interests in the early '60s came from my dad’s side. I was still into the Boy Scouts/Air Explorers, the base Rod & Gun Club, and high school Junior ROTC, including the Drill Team. I was Maine State Junior Skeet Shooting Champion, Maine State Indoor Rifle Team Champion, twice, and on both the first and second place Maine State Postal Indoor Rifle Teams (I checked the rules on multiple participation). I also earned the highest NRA target shooting award, Distinguished Expert Marksman, and became an NRA Home Firearm Safety Instructor. I racked up a lot of miles going to activities.

When my dad retired from the Air Force and I graduated from High School in 1964, the black Mopar (Chrysler product) was left in Maine and we drove my mother’s ’55 Ford station wagon to Tacoma, Washington (bypassing the Air Force Academy, but that’s another story). Stay tuned for my college days: a two-wheeler, a classic, big time racing, and my introduction to Porsches.

Post 2 - The College 1.0 Years

My dad made the 3,000 mile trip from Bangor, Maine to Tacoma, Washington, before I graduated from Bangor High. At my graduation, my mother gave me a Minolta Rangefinder camera, and we hit the westbound roads, the Ford consuming only one generator. My father had bought a little house in Tacoma (near my mother’s family), sight unseen, years earlier. 

I moved into the freshman dorm at the University of Puget Sound, which had Air Force ROTC. A few of dorm-mates had motorcycles. I had a standing request to watch one guy (try to) start a Norton Commando. I found it entertaining. I was a physics major (but not a good one) and my roommate studied business. Sometimes, I would do his homework quizzes when he as out. I was stuck with my parent’s taxi service.

When my dad wasn’t using his ’60 Ford Falcon with the “three-on-the tree” shifter, I got to use it. One day, I took a friend for a joy ride over on the peninsula. I over-did a speed shift and broke the shift lever mount, driving home in second gear. The end of the Falcon came one evening while navigating the new-to-me residential streets. I entered an intersection only to find the side of a Cadillac. No one was hurt. Trying to figure out who’s at fault. I turned around to see the back side of a post with a STOP sign high up in the tree branches. My only accident that was my fault. Dad bought a Ford pickup.

After finishing my freshman year, I needed to come up with some wheels, but I knew the cost of my education put a damper on the budget. My conclusion was a small motorcycle. I had been riding little rental-ready Honda 50s and 90s at the service garage where I hung out. One day I heard tires squealing and turned to see a Buick punt a stopped motorcyclist across the intersection. I knew a proposal to get a motorcycle would need some help. My pitch would include a promise to avoid rush hour traffic and take back streets. It worked. I picked out a Honda CB-160 motorcycle, and my mother picked out the ugliest helmet.

Vehicle #1

Having had some experience with the centrifugal clutch Hondas, I figured it shouldn’t take long to learn the controls. I asked the dealer to deliver it to the back lot of the shopping center I worked at. They dropped it off in front of the store. No problem, I just need to ease it around back, where I would circulate until I figured it out. With a small crowd watching, I attempted to start with a U-turn between the curb and the parked cars. While concentrating on the gas and clutch, I could not remember where the brake(s) is (/are). I contacted the door of my boss’ Oldsmobile. She wasn’t upset about the dint in her “beater.”

It was that summer, when I needed some gas/entertainment money. I got a job at the place whereI hung out. I was now a professional slot car racer. These 1/24^th scale cars (≈ 6” long) had geared electric motors driving micro-foam tires. Six or eight of these would zip around slotted plywood tracks. We had three tracks in an ex-supermarket store. One year we had a competition between all the Pacific Northwest slot car stores. After competing at all the tracks, our team won and I was also awarded an individual trophy as the Pacific Northwest Slot Racing Champion.

Feeling our oats as mini-hot shoes, some of us decided to compete against the southern California slot racers. We were desperate for transportation. One guy had a ’56 Plymouth that had recently been smashed in the front and “totaled.” We knew someone that had a new Volkswagen Beetle, but was a lousy driver. Passengers had the choice of riding in a pile of junk with the heater going full blast to avoid overheating (not desirable in Bakersfield in summer) or risking your life in the Beetle. The Beetle owner did not want anyone else driving. We made it about two hours when the Plymouth overheated (at night). We stopped at a service station to add water. The owner opened the radiator cap and we saw our first geyser. His car knowledge item #1. We stopped in Portland at midnight for a Denny’s. Returning to the cars, the VW owner discovered that his keys were in the front trunk (aka frunk). We had a policeman hook the lock lever. This was going to be a long trip.

We had a friend in L.A. that let us use a room. One night after working on our miniature cars to the wee hours, we got hungry. The VW owner was asleep, so we got his keys and made a Denny’s run. Who would you expect to see in a Denny’s in the middle of the night? We ate quietly while listening for the police radios to announce “Stolen Volkswagen Beetle, color blue…” Only one of us made it high into the heat races, so no trophies. A buddy and I called home to beg for money to be wired for a flight home. We visited Disneyland while arrangements were made. Cheated death again.

My slot cars were miniature replicas of real race cars such as the McLaren M6A, down to the decals and Bruce’s or George’s bust figure. I had first-hand knowledge of what they look like. One of the guys I raced against was an Air Force pilot for the support plane at McChord AFB. He came up with reasons to fly to the same locations the Can-Am and Trans-Am races took place. Several of us got to accompany him on these runs several times. We went to the tracks at Laguna Seca, Riverside, and Las Vegas. One time, at the Hog’s Breath Inn in Carmel, we got to talking to a couple who were regulars of the races. They gave us pit passes as crew members of their SCCA MGB. During the Can-Am races, I preferred to be in Mario Andretti’s pit, because he usually finished either with the checkered flag, or in the pits. Can-Am was awesome and Trans-Am was a manufacturer fan’s dream. (Ford, then Porsche)Big time racing came to us at Pacific Raceways in nearby Kent, Washington. The track is on the side of a hill. The straightaway was on one level, and the twisties were below. I would watch Mark Donohue (who won) go through the twisties and hit the same marks on the track every lap. He was like a test pilot for race cars. On July 18^th, 1967, I saw my first Porsche 911s race. I was impressed with their master of the twisties (and the Cobras on the straightaway). I said “I’m going to own one of those someday.” (This photo is of the one that actually won the Kent 300 Under 2 Liter class that day.)

Even with the often less than desirable weather, the Honda was my transportation and I stayed out of trouble (mostly). In college, I was over my head with physics, calculus, and German and went on academic probation after my third semester. Just as I started my fourth semester, my life changed. 

One nice January day, I needed some parts for my slot car that my shop didn’t have, but our sister shop in a suburb did. A friend wanted to go along. We rode down to the other Mini Auto and found some buddies there and proceeded to have a conversation. I checked my watch and realized we better get going before the rush hour. It was 3:30. At 3:45, a station wagon turned left across the yellow line right in front of us. A small motorcycle with two riders is not very maneuverable. We hit behind his rear wheel. My right hip was dislocated and my right tibia (big leg bone) was broken. I went unconscious briefly. A witness said I tried to put the bike on its kickstand as a natural reaction. That’s hard to do when one leg is a few inches short. My rider was OK, and so was my ugly helmet. I had a great doctor (my mother became his office manager when he retired from the Army) and I was confined (as in traction) to Madigan Army Hospital in Ft. Lewis, for five weeks. It was in an old, open barracks where the Viet Nam orthopedic casualties were sent. A book was written about that ward.

When I was released, I was on crutches and a knee-down cast for over six months. Having time to think, I realized the Air Force requires pilots to have a degree. They didn’t care what it was in. I also realized that I could do business, and it might be useful if life threw me a curve again. I was going to start business and economics classes in the summer. In the meantime, one small problem. You may remember the ‘60‘s news, something about this war in Southeast Asia, and a draft. I was no longer protected by my AFROTC exemption. My number came up and I reported to a draft physical. Very interesting experience. Fortunately, they bought my doctor’s opinion that I was not ready to march yet. I got a deferment for six months. I would be back in AFROTC in the autumn and on to my college 2.0 years and a car that became a coveted classic.

Post 3 - The College 2.0 Years

I jump-started my GPA that summer as I hobbled around. When my cast(s) finally came off, I was itchin’ to get on the road again. My slot-car sales-mate drove a ’55 Chevy 210 (mid level) with a Powerglide automatic. I would drive it, but adapted to left foot braking (which I still do with automatics). When the legal settlement money came in, I made a pitch for a ’57 Chevy. 

Vehicle #2

We wound up buying a Bel Air (top level) four door sedan with the 283 V8 with the Powerpack and the two-speed Powerglide transmission (Orchid Silk & white paint). It was owned by a Standard Oil salesman, so we knew it had to be in good shape. My gas expenditures went way up, along with tires.

No more fogged up face shield, or frozen knuckles. Now I’m riding in style. I’m also not cutting half my classes to ride around. I was the winning “CEO” in a business simulation taught by a millionaire. I was staying out of trouble with a few exceptions.

The slot racing business wound down. I got a job where I hung out, the University of Puget Sound Field House, where the AFROTC and athletics resided. I got paid for two hours work that I could do in 45 minutes. My routine was to clean the AFROTC offices, then stop and pickup my geology buddy and we would meet another buddy or two at a bar. My parents thought I was at the library five nights a week. The library was called Pat’s Tavern. We would each buy a pitcher of (local) Olympia beer, so that was the exact amount each of us drank a night in two hours. I would have peanuts after two beers and a hamburger with my fourth/last beer. I would get home about 11 and my mother would be up watching TV. I don’t think my parents knew I was drinking.

One spring break, four of us rode in a Jeep Wrangler to the beaches on the Pacific coast. We had cases of beer and a half dozen bottles of hard stuff. The first night, it was flowing quickly, so I, and another not-yet-plowed buddy, hid two bottles of Smirnoff’s. When the other two passed out, we snuck off to polish them off. Since we were still upright at sunrise, we grabbed the Jeep to look for girls on the beach. We found some, but after a while we became bored with them. We were more interested in the Jeep on the sand. I was in the right seat when the Jeep suddenly turned left up the dunes. I rolled out and the back tire ran over me. Mostly because of the state of my condition, I did a perfect “PLF” (Parachute Landing Fall), and bounced up laughing. The long ride home wasn’t as much fun … hangovers and exhaust that circulated back into the “cabin.”

The most important lesson about the use of alcohol occurred after a party in the suburbs (I know, don’t go there). A group of ROTC students had a party, and I felt I was going over my limit (approaching midnight). I had to really concentrate while driving the Chevy home. I would go right at the speed limit, check mirrors, check speed, watch far ahead in the dark, concentrate like I never had before. Since I knew every car make and model by its lights, I knew I was following a ’59 Ford which was supposed to have single taillights on each side. I saw double, and no amount of squinting would correct that. I made it home safely, acted “normal” as my mother offered me a glass of wine. I declined and flopped into bed, never to get drunk again.

My senior year, I completed the AFROTC Flight Instruction Program, which was 35 hours in a Cessna 150. I was the records keeper for the program, and I think I set a school record by soloing in 5.5 hours, vs the normal 8-12 hours. I was able to get an FAA check-ride on my last flight and got my Private Pilot’s License.

My ’57 Bel Air was my trusty transportation for 3 ½ years (of my five in college). One night I was coming home when it started to rain (what’s the chance of that happening in the Pacific Northwest?). I was going down a hill when, you guessed it; an old guy turned left across the yellow line right in front of me. It rearranged the grill and the insurance company called it a “total,” much to our surprise. I think it was on the road again. I’m in my senior year and bound for jet-jock land. What should I be driving? The name has something to do with what I will be doing the next year.

Vehicle #3

I wanted to have a Mustang, even if it was a notchback with a six. With the help of a car guy neighbor, my parents approved a ’69 Ford Mustang Mach 1, 351 V8, four barrel! My parents drew the line at a stick, so it would be automatic. We didn’t even consider air conditioning, living on the Puget Sound. The Mach 1s were not out yet and the GT was the current performance version, but another level was coming, and it became a smash hit. We knew an owner/salesman who wore overalls at his Ford dealership out in the boonies. My mother bought a Ford Galaxy 500 two door (although it was supposed to be a four door), a year earlier. Welcome to the muscle car era.

You’re probably wondering what that box is on top. I’ll tell you next post. 

When I graduated from UPS with a B.A. in Business Administration, specifically Marketing (which I have grown to hate), and double minors in Economics and Aerospace Science, I also received my gold bars as a Second Lieutenant in the USAF.

My Mustang was about to get even more crowded. One of my pilot classmates was going to join me on the trip to Texas, if we both got assignments there. We planned to spend two weeks hitting every National Park from Yellowstone to Carlsbad Caverns, camping out. In the summer of ’69 he got an assignment to Lubbock, Texas, and mine was to Laughlin AFB, in Del Rio. But now we had only ten days to drive it. No problem, we would keep the same agenda, just drive faster between stops. Did I say “no problem?” “I have the need for speed.” Next post ...

Post 4 - The Pilot Training Years

Having now discovered muscle cars with the ’69 Mustang Mach 1, on the first leg of the trip to Yellowstone, Tetons, Arches, Bryce, Cedar Breaks, Zion, Las Vegas, Grand Canyon, Petrified Forrest, and Carlsbad, we discovered the European equivalent in performance cars. I came up on a new orange BMW 2002 by Mount Rainer and passed it. The competition was on. For the next hour, we traded places, I passed him on the straights, he could out-brake me and leave me in the turns. We finally gave a friendly wave to each other, leaving no clear winner. I liked that car as well.

When we entered Nevada for Las Vegas, we found no speed limits. We cruised at about 95 MPH, with occasional runs to 115 MPH. When we entered Arizona, I didn’t notice the 65 MPH speed limit sign. Going up an incline, I slowed to 95 as I approached an 18-wheeler. An Arizona Highway Patrol car came down the hill, head swiveling quickly as he passed at 160 MPH differential. He U-turned and caught up with us. While retrieving my license, I made sure he noticed my military ID. He said “Are they still tough on traffic tickets?” I didn’t know, but answered “Oh, yeah, real tough.” He gave me a warning and the required “Slow down.” We had to. He followed us to Kingman, where he was replaced by another AZ HP car, and again a tag in Williams. 65 never felt so slow.

We camped out on fire trails and methodically repacked the car to get everything back in. We hiked down into the Grand Canyon. I carried a cooler that fit in my backpack, with drinks, food and ice. Going down is a piece of cake. Going back up is hell. I dumped whatever was in the cooler, minus some water. Old ladies were passing me in the switchbacks like a BMW 2002. The buzzards were circling over me, and the sounds echoed off the canyon walls. Add that to the long list of  “I’m not going to do that again.”

The next day, we arrived late at the entrance to the Painted Desert & Petrified Forest. Mr. Ranger said the park closes in 45 minutes and that’s how long it takes just to drive the 28 miles to the other end. We said, “No problem.” We motored at 60 MPH, which gave us 15 minutes to stop and sightsee.

We drove through the night, or more accurately, I drove, he slept. We arrived at Carlsbad Caverns before it opened. The cool caverns were a relief. Remember, no air conditioning. Later that day, I dropped off my college-mate at Lubbock (south of Amarillo). I continued on to Del Rio, which is on the Rio Grande River, 150 miles due west of San Antonio. One flat tire slowed me down. I had not slept since leaving the Grand Canyon. Only two cars passed me the whole trip.

College was kindergarten compared to the year in pilot training. I was assigned the additional duty of Yearbook Editor. I found a classmate that knew what that was, and appointed myself as Yearbook Photographer. I bought a Pentax Spotmatic SLR camera system. I snapped pictures everywhere, including some great four ship formation images from the cockpit of a supersonic T-38. I shot the pilots for the yearbook. Photography is still my hobby. I helped design the class patch and our class motto after my favorite song “C’mon on baby, light my fire.”

We had weekends off, thankfully. Many times, we would drive to San Antonio to hit the clubs at the many military bases there. One weekend, a buddy and I decided to find some new territory. How about Austin? We were driving up the interstate in the middle lane, when a VW Beetle with four adults and one infant passed us in the left lane (this doesn’t happen often). The right rear tire blew out, she overcorrected and rolled down the median ditch. Two people were ejected (no belts?) and cartwheeled through the sky. I stopped on the left shoulder to let my passenger go help. I went on to call for help. The two adults without belts died. The two with belts and the strapped-in infant lived. Car knowledge item # … We spent the day with the police and headed back to San Antonio.

Returning to the interstate to San Antonio, we climbed the on-ramp to discover bumper-to-bumper traffic. I had to stop. A check of my rear-view mirror displayed a rapidly expanding Dodge Charger. I floored it and slotted in between two right lanes cars, much to their surprise. I saw the Charger fish-tailing, nose down, trying to reverse his momentum. I avoided Austin for decades.

One day, we saw posters for the Southwest Texas Safari. A road rally was coming to Del Rio. It beats driving 300 miles back and forth to San Antonio. I enlisted one of my classmates to be navigator. The Mach 1 was made for this, it had a big rally clock mounted in front of the passenger. This was like flying low-level and making your target on time, except you had to answer questions based on what you saw along the way. We missed the first turn, corrected, and I made an odometer correction. We were on a timed segment when I mentally figured the navigator’s speed computation was wrong, so I adjusted it and made another compensation to the speed to correct for our past error. This is work! We finished, enjoying the experience, and debated whether to hang around for the results. We got something to eat and came back. They announced the new Champions … us!

Vehicle #4

I needed a way to blow off steam, and quit driving all over southwest Texas. I bought a Honda CL-175 Scrambler (No, I didn’t tell my mother). One thing I would do when academic classes thinned out, was to go out beside the runways and chase jack rabbits. You had to learn how to be maneuverable to stay with them. One day, I happened to look up at final approach and saw a T-38 (aka white rocket) turning too tightly and descending rapidly. No one ejected and it pancaked into the ground. I took off to get to it, but there were too many fences. The fire trucks beat me there. It was another classes’ student and instructor. Airplane knowledge item # …

In 1970, I earned my Air Force pilot’s wings and sold my bike. I requested west coast or New England for my next assignment. I got KC-135 Stratotankers at Loring AFB in northern Maine, but first I had to survive Survival Training in eastern Washington. Three of us took the Mustang to Washington via some parks and monuments. Survival went well for our group in July-August; I helped set a record for escapes from our simulated POW camp. Now, I got a vacation.

The red box on top:

When I finished the 53 weeks of pilot training and four weeks of survival training, I had 30 days “leave.” I came home to Tacoma and bought two tall column speakers (which I still have), a stereo receiver, and a reel-to-reel tape deck. Then I thought, how am I going to haul this stuff around? My dad worked for American Plywood Association, so in the evenings, we went in and made a semi-aerodynamic car top box. His love of wood and boat building skills were put to use. I painted it to match the Mustang, including the stripes.

I drove to Merced, California, in the central valley, for three months of SAC’s KC-135 training. I enjoyed runs through the Sierra foothills. The lack of a/c and a front-end shimmy that I couldn’t fix (Ford design fault), got me to wishing for an upgrade. One evening, after flying for six hours, I went for a sunset drive. I stopped at the Ford dealer, which was closed. This was sitting in the window:

Vehicle #5

It was an end-of-the-year, 1970 Ford Torino Cobra, with the upgrade 429 CobraJet engine, 370 HP (for insurance purposes, actually closer to 400 HP), automatic, a/c, and every option except three (two window stickers). My Mustang quit on the way to the dealer for the trade. (Did I tell you that I was going to the tip of Maine in December?) It got 6 MPG on only two brands of super premium gas. I estimated that 16 quarter-mile runs would empty the tank. After qualifying as a KC-135 copilot, I drove over 3,000 miles to Maine, with a stop in Chicago to visit my geologist college-mate. I arrived at Loring AFB in a snow blizzard. I drove through the town of Limestone, and didn’t even see it. 

The Cobra had a 11.7 to 1 compression ratio. That’s a lot of squeezing before it goes bang. A cold battery didn’t have a chance to get eight cylinders to go bang continuously. I had to get up every two hours and let it run some if I had to report for work before sunup (about 9 AM). This was a conflict with my girlfriend, who moved into my Bachelor Officer’s Quarters (BOQ). If the roads were icy when I let my foot off the brake, the back tires would spin even before I got to the gas pedal. I didn’t know if the air conditioning even worked.

When I arrived at the base, an aircraft commander, navigator, and boom operator arrived about the same time, so some dimwit assigned us together as a new crew number. We figured that the powers-to-be would re-assign us when we became fully qualified for the war mission. They didn’t. My navigator’s sister escaped Oklahoma to stay with him and his new wife for her last semester of high school. There was a crew party for her 18^th birthday. In three months, I proposed, in another three months I was married to Cathryn. After [49] years, I think this may work out. I am about to learn about big powerful cars vs. small underpowered cars. Stay tuned.

P.S. Cathryn had Brest cancer surgically removed in 2013, along with four months of chemotherapy and five weeks of radiation. She’s doing fine, but the effects stay for a long time.

Post 5 - Muscle Cars to Mileage Cars

Vehicle # 6

Cathy, as she was known then, came from a Volkswagen family. Two adults and five kids in a Bus (Type 2), or worse yet, a Beetle (Type 1). She would share the luggage-well behind the back seat of the Beetle with the youngest of three older brothers. Imagine six-hour drives in Oklahoma. She didn’t drive automatics. Six weeks after we got married, I was going to Southeast Asia for a couple of months. We ordered a ’72 Super Beetle (the “Super” referred to the trunk size), with a sturdy Hurst shifter, deep chrome reverse rims, Dunlop radials, and a gas heater. (Notice that I am getting a little smarter?)

 

Personally, I thought the Bugs were dangerous (actually, I think I said “I wouldn’t touch one with a ten-foot pole.”), but could be handy in the winter/snow. I soon discovered that I could drive it flat out, and no one would notice (i.e. cops). I began tuning it up; exhaust extractor, sway bar, CD ignition, carburetor modifications, etc. I also found the local/only VW dealer was inept, so I bought John Muir’s book, How to Keep Your Volkswagen Alive for the Complete Idiot. (Ask any air-cooled VW owner, they’ll know it.) I became a driveway mechanic. I also bought an Arctic Cat Panther 400 snowmobile (Vehicle #6a?) which was my motorcycle on snow.

We airmen got two weeks leave, twice a year. We rarely made plans ahead, or budgeted, so we just drove 2,000 miles to Bartlesville, Oklahoma. One time I was trying to decide which car to drive during the next trip. It was during the oil shortage. I computed that the Cobra would cost $190 round trip in gas, and the Beetle $50. We sold the Cobra after we returned from driving the Beetle. We had the Beetle for 19 years, and it was my/ours/her/mother-in-law’s budget-Porsche.

One time, we were driving the Beetle down the Muskogee Turnpike with no other cars around. It was still “stock” and just tuned-up in Tulsa. An Oldsmobile appeared behind us. I decided I wasn’t going to be passed (bored). I picked it up from the comfortable 85 MPH it liked to run. So did the Olds. Now we were blowing on the windshield and demanding more power! I watched the speedometer point past the tick past 100 … 106 MPH! We each waved and backed down to cruising speeds.

Another time, we were just leaving Maine on a six lane I-95, in the left lane. I was passing another Beetle when he sped up (what a jerk! :-). I kept pushing it with him slightly ahead. Then I noticed a radar trap ahead with four or five HP cars. I kept him between me and the radar unit by not backing off. We passed, and I checked my mirror. Sure enough, one pulled out … and stopped someone else. I can just image the radar operator banging on the unit and mumbling “Beetles don’t go that fast!” I recall we were at about 95 MPH.

Vehicle #7

We had to fight over the Beetle, so I wanted another car. These German cars are nice, so I went with the all-new ’73 Audi Fox in a two door, stick, which was the Audi 80 overseas. It was fun to drive and had a nice wood trimmed interior.

One time in Bartlesville, we drove the extra 45 minutes down to Tulsa to look around. I wanted to stop by the Porsche dealership. They had a new, orange ’74 911 Carrera that was loaded, but the financing fell through for the guy that ordered it. It was $14,000. The salesman threw me the keys and said “Take it down to Muskogee and have lunch if you want” (~45 miles). I went as far as the first cloverleaf and pushed it through all four leafs. Wow! I tried a 914, too, impressive, but not what I wanted (unless I wanted an adult go-cart). I called my credit union while Cathryn was repeating “No.” The payments with a rollover of Audi payments were just too much. I was literally shaking; Cathryn had to drive us back to Bartlesville.

I was lucky to escape northern Maine after four winters, and I managed to get assigned to Wichita, Kansas, where there were no bomber pilots to compete with for jobs. The Audi Fox showed signs of being a version 1.0 design. It needed more maintenance after about 24,000 miles. It also didn’t have a/c or four doors. I sold it. (Although we had second thoughts after detailing it.) The day I left Loring AFB, I got up at 4 AM to finish my Instructor Pilot check-ride, after having 10% of the minimum time waived. I then processed out of the base, and said goodbye to my friends. About 7 PM, Cathryn and I drove the Beetle (with a Yorkshire Terrier and a Beagle) around the housing areas yelling “Good bye Loring” (or something to that effect:-). We drove straight through for 27 hours, stopping just past Des Moines, Iowa. 42 hours awake (with car naps) after six hours sleep. I know what Lindberg felt like.

I was given a Regular Commission and selected to attend Squadron Officer’s School (SOS) in Montgomery, Alabama in between assignments. I dropped off Cathryn with her parents in Oklahoma, and I drove the Beetle to Montgomery, going around every town square in between. It seemed that every county sheriff drove a pickup truck with a gun rack in the back window. Once, I got stuck behind a big pickup carrying a couple of cows that continually relieving themselves :-(. I had the Beetle’s wipers on and I rolled up the “air conditioning” cranks to the off/closed position. I sent the best letter I ever wrote to Cathryn about my experiences with the South. Half-way through the three-month course, I had her father deliver her to Montgomery, while I took the course less seriously. When we settled down in Wichita, I bought a bicycle, then another motorcycle (No, I didn’t tell my mother).

Vehicle #8

I wanted something to explore the Kansas country roads, so I tested a few Hondas. The older, larger displacement Hondas were either heavy and/or too high a center of gravity. I got the new CB-400 Super Sport which was a four-cylinder café racer. It had short/low handlebars which caused discomfort after a longer ride. I changed them to conventional bars and added crash bars in front of my legs. 

One day, out cruising around, I stopped by Cathryn’s art class. They were drawing a nude with charcoal. I was invited to give it a try. My first and only attempt at art was pretty good. Later, when Cathryn was talking to my mother on the phone, she prefaced her praise of my effort by saying “Jim was out riding his motorcycle when…” My mother interrupted her and said “Wait, what did you say?” The cat was out of the bag. I was a very defensive cyclist by then.

Another motor vehicle that I had experience with, I didn’t own, but rented. They came from manufacturers such as Cessna, Piper, and Beechcraft. When I was doing instruction in a KC-135 simulator at night, in the daytime, I worked on my civilian ratings. I already had my private and commercial license, so Certified Flight Instructor was next, with the help of the GI Bill. I flew a Cessna  152, Cessna Cardinal RG, and Cessna 210.

About this time, a pilot friend, who was half-owner in a Piper Cherokee 140, which had just had all of its regular maintenance, including a technical fix to the oil system. I wanted to go to Bartlesville to get a check for a new car from our credit union. 2 ½ hr drive, or 1 hr flight? Enroute, we lost oil pressure and landed in a wheat field. Our instructor experience paid off. (The story "Cheated Death" is available in my Google Blog.)

One day, living in Wichita (20 airports within 20 miles), we three couples took part in a group tour of the Cessna plant. A guide kept us between the marked walkways as rivets were being hammered into the planes. When a horn announced a break… suddenly total silence. I thought of many aviation magazines showing Cessnas with their wrinkled aluminum skins. The guide pointed out an employee putting in the carpets. He said it will take 45 minutes. A stop in the instrument shop, we saw standard panels with one-size-its-all wiring harnesses. Models of efficiency.

A couple of months later, I was cruising around on my motorcycle, in jeans, t-shirt, sneakers, and a brain bucket. I was on the other side of town where Beechcraft was. I thought, “Maybe they have tours.” I parked by the main entrance, and approached a man in a suit at the door. I asked the question, and he said, go across the street to the employment office and they will set you up.  I did, and they asked me to fill out a form, asking for my aviation credentials. I handed the form back, and the lady said, go across the street and start your tour. Great timing, I thought. I handed the suit my ticket, he went back inside for a moment and returned with the keys to a Cadillac on the curb. I looked around, no one else. 

He took me to every shop on the campus, except the military one. Employees were not robotic, and not pressed for time. I watched a man putting in the carpets, the suit said it will take him all afternoon, and there will be no wrinkles. (Beech uses thicker, military spec aluminum skins, and no wrinkles.) I watched two guys put in the instruments on a jig, to the buyers specification, with wires custom fit. (Beech instrument panels, again, are much sturdier and not covered with plastic covers that block light to the top of the gauges.) Wow, what a difference.

Two weeks later, I get a call from the Beechcraft dealer at Wichita Mid-continent Airport. “I hear you got a tour of the Beech plant. Would you like to try out one of our aircraft?” After I caught my breath,  and thought “Don’t get too greedy.” I said  “How about a Musketeer? (Not Disney’s) I flew one in the mid-west winds, and it was a joy. Very stable and well built. I signed up for lessons to get my Instrument Instructor license. I did do some instruction, including getting our squadron’s clerk a Private Pilot’s License. I delivered a Cessna 206 to Florida, losing electrical power (a belt) on the way.

Vehicle #9 (or #7 Mark 2) (See above photo #7.)

We had a mortgage, but when the finances allowed, I bought a cool ’76 Audi Fox. This time with air-conditioning, four doors, and a sunroof.

On a Labor Day weekend, we drove the second Audi Fox down to Oklahoma. We passed Ponca City when I ran over a twig in the road and the engine quit and dash lights came on. I pulled off for the shoulder in front of a farm house. I opened the hood and see the timing belt and alternator belt were shredded. The a/c belt was okay. It was noon on Saturday when most breakdowns are scheduled to happen. I carry tools, so Cathryn went to call for a timing belt. She caught the owner of the Ponca City VW-Audi dealership going out the door. He delivered the belt, and would not take more than $20. I removed the timing belt cover, which was open at the bottom :-(,  and found punch marks on the intake manifold and on the cam drive gear. I lined them up, installed the belt, and switched the a/c belt to the alternator pulleys (good design). I drove off successfully with a mental note to add hand cleaner to my tool kit.

Cathryn’s father had a ’69 VW Bus that the three boys in the family had blown and rebuilt the engine a couple of times. It would quit running after a couple of blocks. Each visit I would do more tune-up work to no avail. Finally, I discovered the ignition condenser was bad and blocked electricity when warm. It is a different unit from the Beetle’s. I drove it back to Wichita, almost; it blew up. Cathryn towed it the last 15 miles. We bought more repair books and rebuilt the engine with a larger displacement and an exhaust extractor left over from my/our Beetle when I upgraded to an Abarth. We also did a basic restoration of the rest of it. The 360 lb./ft. torque on the crankshaft gland nut took some ingenuity. The only injury came when checking the bottom after the first startup. My visiting, oldest brother-in-law yelled something to me, and I instinctively raised my head, burning the tip of my nose. Otherwise, It was a great experience. Later, the youngest, troubled, brother-in-law took it, and thought he abandoned it in Arizona on his way to L.A.

We had taken the second Fox on a three week loop of the western National Parks (It rained every day, but one). I took out the back seat, replacing it with a wooden crate. We used a WWII pup tent and an air mattress. It was an ordeal setting up and breaking down camp. I noticed these VW campers would just drive up to a campsite, not even get out, move to the pop top, open it and the side door, and pop a beer. No wet ground to sleep on. That’s the way to go.

I had the Wichita Audi dealership do a tune-up including a valve adjustment (using shims, not nuts/bolts) of the second Fox. It ran poorly afterward. I couldn’t figure it out until I checked the valve clearances … none. I couldn’t trust the Audi dealership. That summer, I had to train Air National Guardsmen up in Topeka. 

Vehicle #10

One day I stopped by the Topeka VW dealership after seeing a discount ad in the paper. I saw an end-of-the-year, fully loaded, Champagne Limited Edition ’78 Campmobile (aka VW Type 2). I got Cathryn to come up and I argued a deal for about an hour and a half, and gave up. Cathryn kept going for two more hours. We finally made a deal that included installing a/c. Part of the problem was my trade-in value. “We’ll have a difficult time selling your Audi, blah, blah, blah.” I got a guy to buy it while I was removing the license plate. The “Bus” was now Cathryn’s car/RV/SUV/camper/station wagon, although I had to use it during some times in the future. [We sold it in 2017. It was 39 year old member of the family.] Its happiest times as a senior were camping at Virginia International Raceways (VIR).

In Wichita, we were 2 ½ hours from Cathryn’s home in Bartlesville, OK via an “L” shaped route. Those drives to Bartlesville were exciting in a bad way when we drove the Bus. It has a maximum speed of 74 MPH and you would have to be a Chuck Yeager to do it. This prototype for a rolling billboard had really sloppy steering (and unpowered). The midwest winds are generally out of the south and significant. The east/west leg was a direct  crosswind. There is a series of concrete bridges near Ponca City where a river follows the road. Being an experienced pilot helped. I would be holding about 45º of steering wheel into the wind (with large variations due to slop), when I crossed a bridge the wind was deflected over us. I had to take out the crab (aviation term). After about a 1,000 feet, I would be back in unprotected wind … CRAB! Another 1,000 feet, another bridge … steer straight, and on, and on.

Vehicle #11

Having traded in my Audi for her Bus, I was now missing having something more than a basic (as in a 1938 design) form of transportation (& a/c). I had a dream that I had an orange two door sporty Volkswagen. A few days later, I saw it in front of the VW dealership. It was a ’74 412 (Type 4), but the two door had a peppier engine and lower gearing than the four door. The manual transmission helped. It showed low mileage and I bought it. It was nice, but after about a year, my instincts said it was approaching maintenance time. I sold it to the Audi dealership. Later they called to ask if the odometer was correct. The new owner was in for ball joints, brakes, etc. We figured the VW dealer (same owner as Audi) had run the odometer back about 20-25K.

Vehicle #12

The oil crisis 2.0 hit, and I immediately ran to the VW dealership to get a diesel Rabbit. They spotted one in San Francisco. Didn’t happen. Six months later, they said I would be six months on a waiting list. I saw a discount coupon in the paper for the Plymouth dealership. Maybe they would have an imported Plymouth Champ (as in gas mileage). It was a rebadged Mitsubishi Colt/Mirage. The nice feature was a second stick that moved the gear ratios about half a gear. Only one was available, due to a return. The dealer had not planned that when issuing the discount.

Running around in the Beetle, Bus, and Champ for the next six years allowed us to save up for a really nice car, but you have to wait only one week to find out what it was. The only clue is that it was American.

Post 6 - The Long Dry Spell

One of the nice things about living in Wichita (besides the easy grid street system) was the race at Lake Afton. It was one of only three, true road courses in the U.S. It was 1.9 miles on the park roads by the lake. Almost half of the course was a straightway. The SCCA came there, and we went there all five years in Kansas. I would root for the Porsches, Cathryn loved the Jaguar XKEs with 12 cylinders. (a Porsche 356 won at least once:-)

In 1979, I was assigned back to the SAC training base in Atwater, California. Now I was the instructor, not the student in the KC-135. With three cars, we decided to leave the Beetle with my mother-in-law in Oklahoma. It gave us fits getting there. It wouldn’t unlock the glove box, where the “frunk” release is (and a roll of my film). It wouldn’t start, a mirror fell off, it would quit, and the headlights went out. None of this was happening the day before we decided to loan it out for a $1.

While in Atwater, my parents brought their RV down from Washington. While we preparing for our trip together, I had the Campmobile in the driveway, cleaning and loading. I had the top up (hinged from the back). I decided to pull it into the garage to avoid the hot sun. I just stepped between the front seats and fired it up. Upon pulling into the garage, my parents confirmed that I had learned some swear words along the way. We had a new canvas top installed.

We decided to take the Bus camping across the Sierras, east of Yosemite. We need some firewood for the night, so we pulled off the highway, nose down, on what turned out to be pine needles on deep ash. We gathered wood and piled it in the back end. With a rear engine and rear wheel drive and all that extra weight back there, it should be great for traction in reverse. Wrong! Cathryn pushed the nose while I spun pine needles and ash into a cloud. If I couldn’t get back up to the road, my other choice was to go off-roading it, downhill. I scouted out an auto-cross course, memorizing the first cones/trees. There was a drivable path down on the flat that would return us to the highway. I charged down the hill, keeping up momentum on the deep ash, missing my marks, yelling “O h, s h ! t.” Luckily, I didn’t hit anything of consequence, and made the path, picking up a very gray, laughing spouse. We would have given anything for a shower.

The Champ (mine), and the Campmobile (hers) were our combination for the four years in the central valley of California. Again, the Sierra foothills and Yosemite were favorite drives. Through my connections as the head evaluator for the tanker school, I got a plum job as the advisor to the Air National Guard in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. In 1984, we drove the same two cars to Milwaukee. I was ready for a nice set of wheels, and willing to try American, again.

Vehicle #13

The ’86 Pontiac 6000 STE looked the part. I ordered it, loaded, with the sport suspension and black paint. Eventually, we went down to Oklahoma to drag the Beetle back. We had to put two tires on it while towing it with the Pontiac. Later, Cathryn got her degree as a paralegal.

Speaking of towing, we had a bunch of heavy butcher block style furniture and decided to take it to my brother-in-law’s house-to-be in Steamboat Springs. He was building it himself (mostly). We unbolted the furniture and stacked it in the Bus and in a U-Haul. The day before, I had bought brake pads from a GM dealer, but they were so poorly made, I couldn’t get the caliper clips to stay on. I went to the parts store for another set. It took all day with the hood. trunk, and doors open. My neighbors observed my efforts and brought dinner. Next day, guess what? Right, dead battery. I grab the jumper cables from the Bus and use its RV battery (it had two batteries) to jump the Pontiac. We check-in on the CB radios (I was “Sky Skipper”) and hit the freeway. Quickly, Cathryn said the Bus engine oil was at 260º. I had installed VDO oil temperature, pressure, and amps gauges, planned for the diesel Rabbit. She pulled off the first ramp. I lifted the bonnet and saw a large piece of plastic covering the fan housing, meaning no air for an air-cooled engine. I had pulled this taped plastic off the RV battery when I did the jumpstart. It wasn’t the only time those gauges saved the engine. We climbed up the Rockies from Cheyenne because it was a less steep climb, but we had to stop constantly to let the engine cool. Air cooled VWs have two idiot lights, no gauges: no oil pressure light and no alternator electricity light (which includes the fan belt). Good investment.

After four years in Wisconsin, my only regret was not going to the Road America racecourse. I worked most Saturdays. The Air Force was going to send me to Turkey, but I used my contacts to get an assignment back to central California and prepare for the airlines. The Champ would stay with a neighbor. The Pontiac towed the Beetle westbound in 1988

In Merced, California, I found the GM dealers to be unscrupulous. They said I needed new brakes a few months after they installed new ones. After some of their work, I noticed the taillights were out, and it wasn’t the bulbs. I figured they knocked a wire loose. Back it goes. They called and said I needed a new computer for hundreds of dollars. I said “I’d rather drive that car off a cliff than pay you for a new computer!” They called back to say they found a bad ground. Time to go car shopping.

I like test driving new cars. Sometimes I’ll try a dozen cars over a year’s span before buying. I read almost all the car magazines and Consumer Reports. The last time I was in Merced, we drove the new Toyota Camry. We were impressed. The V6 was undetectable at idle. I had talked my mother into an ‘83. 

Vehicle #14

I wanted a V6 with a stick and a sunroof. They didn’t make that combination. In fact, only the automatics had tachometers; weird. I got an ’89 Camry DX, four-cylinders with a stick and sunroof in metallic gray. Before it was delivered, I went up to Tacoma to visit my mother. We walked up to her car at the SeaTac airport, it was a new, end-of-the-year ’88 Camry LE, automatic, in metallic gray! BTW, a manual transmission made all the difference with that 2.0 liter, four-cylinder engine. I never had to visit a Toyota service bay. I really enjoyed that car. The Bus spent a lot of time in our three-car garage, while Cathryn got her Beetle back.

Our squadron conducted a road rally through the foothills that was fun. I would have won, except that I applied the odometer correction the wrong way. I should have looked at my logbook notes.

It was two years as the chief instructor at the KC-135 schoolhouse when I retired in 1990 and applied for the airlines. I had applications out, but UPS (not my school) wanted me to come to Dallas for an interview. I had already interviewed twice with American. Cathryn wanted to go to Steamboat Springs for sort of a family reunion. I decided to join her in the Bus and take my suit for the UPS interview directly afterwards. It had a hot weather problem with starting, which I helped with a well-known modification to add a Ford solenoid to shorten the electrical trip from the battery in back, through old wires up to the ignition and back to the starter. When we were crossing the Utah Salt Flats in July, it kept quitting until it would run no more. It was hot and we had two dogs. The situation was made worse, because I needed to hit the starter with a hammer to get it to work. We placed a windshield shade on the back of the Bus that said “Need Help-Call Police.” No one stopped for several hours. No law enforcement vehicles. Finally, four young boys, going the opposite direction, did a U-turn, stopped in front, said nothing, and threw out a chain from their little pickup. They towed us about 15 miles to a service station that had a tow truck, accepting no money. I wanted to go into Salt Lake City for a VW mechanic. You already guessed it, the ignition condenser was bad. I used one for a Beetle because I couldn’t find a VW Type 2 condenser.

While I was in the Colorado wilderness near Steamboat Springs, the phone on a post in a meadow by my brother-in-law’s “house” rang. It was my US Air buddy from Merced calling for me. I was hired by American Airlines! We all went to the nearest tavern to celebrate. I have had two full time jobs and one job interview in my life. I finished my Boeing 727 training in the fall of 1990, and I was luckily assigned to the Raleigh-Durham airport and the international division (Caribbean).

We put the house in Merced on the market, but the local economy crashed when the air base closure was announced. It would be the next summer before Cathryn could leave California for North Carolina, in the Bus, with two dogs and two cats. The Beetle was left in Merced with a VW mechanic who treasured it. I had the base service station check the Bus out. In Arizona, she stopped for gas in the middle of nowhere. An old-fashioned gas pump serviceman said she needed a new tires because they were leaking air. He sold her a new set at just above retail. Months later, the Arizona Attorney General’s office called to ask if we bought unneeded tires at this station. The reason for the air leakage was an ice pick.

Vehicle #15

Eventually, Cathryn got roped into new home sales for our Raleigh suburb’s development so driving prospective buyers around in a Campmobile was not in the cards. She ordered a ’93 Eagle Vision TSi with the sports suspension. She was working with a friend/neighbor as a boss. After some tensions, she decided she preferred him as a friend not as a boss, and quit. I went to the dealer to cancel the order since no words of production had come. While trying to get out of the deal, the dealer said the car is here. I looked at it and liked it. The problem was one income now, so I had to trade in my Camry.

We started hosting foreign exchange students, plus Cathryn was a student/host family counselor. We would ask them where they wanted to go for spring break. It was usually Orlando. We had taken our Swedish blonde student (my pick) to Orlando already, so she picked California. We rented a Sebring convertible in San Francisco, and drove to Yosemite, Hollywood, and the Pacific Coast Highway. With the top down, she read a book the whole way up the coast.

Vehicle #16

Cathryn went back to work as a paralegal and complained of my leaving the Eagle in the airport parking lot half of the time. Upon returning from a trip, I went to my airport parking spot and found the Bus there in place of the Eagle. She got her Eagle back, and I was back in the Bus (a/c didn’t work). I found a repossessed ’93 Toyota Tercel, two door, four speed, vinyl seats, a/c, and no other options. The definition of an airport car. I noticed the new tires were from Pep Boys at $17 each.

Vehicle #17

I wanted something classier than the Tercel, but my pilot union was threatening a strike. I saw an ad for Acura Integra leases at $199/mo. I could handle that, so I got a nice ’96 SE coupe with leather and a five speed. Those tiny headlights were the best I had ever seen. I was impressed with the premium brand, Acura.

Vehicle #18

The Eagle Vision apparently came with British Lucas electrics. The headlights would go out and the light switch felt like the cigar lighter. The radio went kaput. We had been very interested in the Miata since it came out. I bought a book about it and we test drove several. Cathryn wanted a convertible, but preferred American, and a back seat (foreign exchange students) would be more useful. That narrowed us down to the BMW, Mustang and Sebring. She wanted a Sebring JXi, black with leather and a fabric top. Finding that was a challenge, but while consulting with a salesperson in Cary who said he couldn’t get one, he walked to the manager’s desk for a few minutes, leaving the computer printout book on his desk. I scanned it and found one in Greensboro. She got a ’97 Chrysler Sebring JXi. 

She had it for for ten years, which included four more foreign exchange students. Once she took the two brothers from Switzerland to the Rockies to ride their bikes. The bike rack fell off once, but no carbon fiber was injured in the incident.

Vehicle #19

When the lease ended on the Integra, I was going to buy it out, but the new ’99 Acura TL 3.2 was released to reviews using variations of the word “perfect.” The Cary dealer showed me a long printout of the waiting list. The navigation equipped models were scarcer. While passing through the DFW airport I saw one displayed in the concourse, with nav. When I got back to RDU, I drove immediately to Chapel Hill, where they found one going to Palm Beach. I had it in ten days. Honda/Acura does nice work. Better feel than Toyotas.

In late 1999, we flew to Switzerland. We drove the Acura TL to the RDU terminal and unloaded from the curb, just short of the building. I had access to the employee parking lot. After checking in, Cathryn said she was hungry, so I said there are restaurants on the concourse. We went through TSA screening, and ate. About a week later, we woke up after a foggy night to see the Matterhorn just outside our chalet windows. Thinking “Life is good, good friends, good travels, good new car… Where did I park the car?” I asked Cathryn, and she started laughing. I called a few offices at RDU, then finally the tow company. “Yeah, we have it. Let’s see… It was noted (after five days) and towed (after seven days).” I asked “How much is going to cost to recover it?” “$45.” I now call that “Valet Parking. I had my stepson (who worked at the airport) move the car to the employee lot.

From Switzerland, we made a run up to Stuttgart for the old Porsche Museum. It was like a narrow section of flex space in a strip mall. Across the street, the new Porsches were exiting the factory, and  using high RPMs and heavy braking, they were parked, nose-to-tail, for delivery. On the way back to Switzerland on the autobahn, I was a passenger. I was resting my eyes when I heard what I thought was a Porsche Turbo for a couple of seconds. Thinking it was headed the other way, I opened my eyes to see a Turbo’s tail end on the horizon ahead. Gone in a blink.

Vehicle #20

My mother passed away in 2000, and I inherited her ’88 Camry (see above, pg. 20, photo #14-no difference). I gave the Camry to my step-son (and four [five] more vehicles, later). He got married and now we have two granddaughters. I also sold my mother’s house and began to realize my dream car might be coming. Stay tuned for the Porsche Learning Curve years.

Post 7 - The Porsche Learning Curve

I had the first half of the year Y2K to prepare for my first Porsche purchase. I would often stop by the Cary dealership to look at options and colors. I had some discussions with a saleslady, one was an idea about discounts, which was to be about $500, sometimes about $1000. I said I would check around for deals. When the finances were ready, I made an appointment. The day before, she left me a message that she couldn’t make it, because she would be attending the PGA golf tournament in Greensboro.

We drove to Chapel Hill, where we met salesman Barry Wellman. He greeted us warmly and said “Don’t worry about a discount, I’ll give you a good one.” I ordered an ’01 911 Carrera coupe with a stick, minimum options, Lapis Blue with gray interior. I also went for the European Delivery. $3500 off. A couple of days later, I get a call from the Cary saleslady. I explain what happened and she asks what discount I got. She calls back and says that they, and the Porsche rep visiting, have not heard of a discount like that, and wants to keep me. No way.

Later, I decided that European Delivery wasn’t a good idea, having been in Stuttgart before (dense traffic, German signs, drive with a clutch, 4,200 RPM limit on the autobahn…). I also decided to go for the new Boxster S sports car. That way, I could keep my Acura TL for daily/airport use. The dealership had troubles with their antiquated computer. It was the time of the price list changeover. A black Boxster S with a CD player and cassette holders got locked in and delivered. I tried to order another Boxster S (limited availability) in red, but straightening out the order while standing at the curb at the O’Hare airport was frustrating.

I got home from a trip on a Friday and there was a message on my answering machine from a salesman in Greensboro. Saturday, I called back. He was new and saw my name in the Rolodex. He asked how are things going? I took off for Greensboro. Driving there, I thought, they won’t have a Boxster S there, but if I go for a 911 I’ll have to trade in my Acura and live with one car. I mentally computed the number$. I put a deposit on a silver cabriolet, designer edition.

Vehicle #21

On the way back, I stopped in Chapel Hill to cancel my pending order. Barry explained their computer problems and said he wanted to keep me. “What does it take?” Sitting in the back left corner of the showroom was an ’01 911 Carrera 4 coupe with a stick, full options, in Lapis Blue with gray leather. I traded-in my Acura TL and called Greensboro. Months later, the red Boxster S also made it to the showroom. I drove it solo up to New York for Christmas appreciating what a wonderful GT it is. In 2001, we did a tour of the Northeast with our Swiss foreign exchange student’s family, just after 9/11. The pre-’02 (Type 996) Carreras had a difficult clutch operation, as in stalling frequently.

Vehicle #22

After my 911 car cover was stolen from the airport parking lot, I decided on a more appropriate airport car. I found a well-cared for ’94 Toyota Camry LE sedan. 

So, after a year in the 911, I take it in for the annual maintenance and back tires. It was about $1300. We went to dinner that evening and I realized I was hooked, or in our terms, a “Porschephile.” I discussed with Cathryn all the improvements that the ’02 models had (which I thought was coming in ’01 according to AutoWeek). She said “This is a big investment, and I want to to be happy with it.” She approved the new one. The next day, I ordered an ’02 911 Carrera coupe like the original order, but with a Tiptronic automatic transmission, since I planned to drive it forever. I didn’t test drive a Tiptronic. My salesman was Porsche veteran, Daniel Brunty in Chapel Hill. I scheduled vacation starting with the projected delivery date.

As that time approached, I heard nothing about delivery. I called Daniel and he was confused. I drove over and we looked at the computer. There was a production date, no production, then another production date. He called PCNA in Atlanta. They said there is a shortage of Tiptronics as the new ones come from Mercedes Benz. The priority went to the new Targas, just launched. Sitting in the back right corner sat an ’02 Targa (sliding glass roof) in Lapis Blue with gray leather and a Tiptronic. The problem was it was a lot more money. While Daniel was off consulting, my cell phone rang. It was USAA and the agent said she didn’t receive my home equity line of credit package, so she did some digging, completed it, and it would be finalized in a couple of days. Daniel returned and I said “I’ll take that one!” Another nice deal.

Vehicle #23

The ’02 Targa was definitely better than the ’01. The ride was better, the downforce was stronger, the interior was better, and the headlights were prettier, plus it was faster. The glass top had a motorized shade and could drop and retract under the hatchback. The hatchback was better for lugging luggage. The five speed Tiptronic could use some improvements. It defaulted to second gear for initial acceleration, unless you mashed it. I would prefer first and move the gear ratios up on first and second. The buttons on the steering wheel spokes are closer to your palms, so I would move them up, or better yet, place paddles behind the spokes. After the engine warmed up, I would go to Manual (really semiautomatic) mode, and select only 2^nd, 3^rd, and 4^th mostly. Like all automatics, it is programmed for the EPA numbers. It had a memory of your use to adjust the program. I never let it use automatic enough to get a memory.

Vehicle #24

I gave the ’94 Camry to my stepson, to join the ’88 Camry. I bought an ’02 Mazda Protegé 5 sport-wagon which had a lot of zoom-zoom (but could handle more horsepower). Four months later, Cathryn and I were returning home from our workout in Cary, while traveling on Cary Parkway, when traffic was funneled into one lane and came to a stop. A lady, three cars up had stopped to talk to a cop on the median. I checked my mirrors (motorcycle habit) and saw an incoming SUV. She hit us, never touching her brakes, causing my seat-back to break, and my glasses flying into the now half-size cargo area. On the rebound, my right knee hit the rather large ignition key. We were punted into the car in front of us, which hit the car in front of it. We were slammed forward and back again. The lady in front drove away, oblivious that she created the conditions for a four car wreck. There was coffee and blood all over the place. I got out and sat on the grass. When the SUV “driver” got out with her cell phone in hand, I asked her if she was distracted. No answer. The cop asked if we wanted to go to the hospital. Cathryn could not get out because her back was hurting. I wasn’t too bad, but getting checked out would be good. EMS arrived while the cop investigated.

The NHTSA studied the car later. I checked the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety (IIHS) website (which is a good car safety source), and found good rating for the Protegé, except for the driver’s right leg. Fact confirmed. I still have problems with that knee. Cathryn’s back was a problem for years (and still is, to a degree). The insurance adjuster called it a total (thankfully) and used the Kelly Blue Book and local sales to determine our payment. I made $700 profit over what I paid to a badgered Mazda salesman.

With my newly found knowledge of car safety, had a check in hand, and ready to buy smarter. Guess which maker is continually on top of safety?… Honda. After testing about eight cars, I actually wanted a VW Passat VR6 wagon, but they were overpriced. Before I fought with the VW salesman, I had to have a walkaway backup (requirement for dealing, along with a business card). I test drove the all new ’03 Honda Accord V6. I was sold before I lost sight of the dealership. I had Cathryn come and try it. She said forget the VW. They had one the first ones on the truck. The next morning, I needed a bargaining chip to get a discount. I put out a request for bids on the internet. Quickly the Oxford dealer offered about $500 over invoice. I didn’t expect that. I called them and said I call you in about an hour, one way or another, I wanted to try my local dealer at Cary Autopark. At Cary, the salesman would not budge on price. I explained my other offer. He went back the manager. My phone rings, it’s Oxford, I said “hold on” as the manager approaches, saying he can’t budge much. I explained my other offer, holding up the phone. “Okay,” deal.

Vehicle #25

I could see how these things were best sellers. Safety, economy, super engines, a well laid out roomy interior, and more entertaining to drive than a Toyota. Matter-of-fact, after every Camry I drove, I couldn’t remember anything about the drive, which I believe is their point. The Honda was almost too nice, in my case. I would rather drive a long trip in the Honda than the 911 (space). The Tiptronic™ wasn’t for me (maybe a good test drive may have made a difference). I really wanted a sports car.

I noticed in the paper, a Boxster S at the M-B dealership, loaded with low miles. The price wasn’t bad, but above my budget. I wanted to take it out for about 30-40 minutes, so the salesman placed the dealer plate on the trunk and over the spoiler. I test drove it, possibly exceeding 75 MPH on back roads. When I returned, the plate was gone. At least we knew the pop-up spoiler worked. I didn’t buy it, I prefer new, but kept looking. In the spring of 2004, I found some new Boxster Ss in Hickory at the Porsche dealer. I took Cathryn with me in the Targa™.

Vehicle #26

They had a nicely equipped black ’03 Boxster S, stick. 19” Carrera Wheels, Bose, leather, and carbon fiber accents. It was 16 months on the lot. I traded for it, below invoice, actually getting a check from the dealer (I bought a new camera system). Some people would think you are nuts to go from a Porsche 911 to a Boxster, but I loved the change. It is lighter, more agile, and confidence inspiring. It has the 258 HP engine down in the middle, with good trunks at both ends. For a convertible, it is a real deal. The Targa lasted me two-years, the Boxster S was 4 ½ years of smiles. (Cathryn still prefers the 911.) The clutch and stick were great.

On the way home, I had to use some of I-40 in evening traffic before getting on US-64 to Raleigh. I was in the right lane, doing the speed limit (it doesn’t happen often) when a NC HP officer pulls me over. My paperwork is in the back trunk (“brunk”?), so the officer is looking at my personalized license plate. It says “AAV8R.” The first “A” is red, others blue, American Airlines style. He says “How did the ‘A’ get to be red?” I said “I painted it.” He said “Repaint it, or replace it.” I guess there is not much real crime or bad driving in central NC. Just a warning. My last ticket was in 1989 in my Camry for doing 10 over.During another trip to Switzerland, including France, I used contacts through my brother-in-law in Stuttgart to get a one-on-one factory tour from a retired Porsche engineer that worked convertibles, sunroofs, and Targas. I also spotted a Carrera GT prototype on the roads near Weissach. I then wrote my first article for Der Wirbelsturm. 

Vehicle  #27

My sister-in-law, who had previously followed my lead with a Pontiac 6000 STE, now wanted to replace her’s with my ’03 Accord. You know, that nav system and satellite radio would be nice. I found a nice deal on an end-of-the-year ’05 Accord V6 (see previous photo, Vehicle #25, imagine gray). The Sebring spent a semester at San Diego State with our older Swiss foreign exchange student and a Swiss friend.

In the summer of 2006, we got together, again, with our friends from Switzerland for a tour of the Southwest and Hawaii. We rented a minivan in Phoenix, drove to Sedona, and eventually L.A. Cathryn developed a medical condition resulting in hives. Two trips to Cedar-Sinai Hospital could not identify the source, but the advice to stay out of the sun and heat. We were flying to Kauai. She made the flight okay, but was medically imprisoned in the hotel room. A couple more visits to the island’s medical clinic ensued. We finally got to where we thought she could take one ride around the island, no luck, another EMS visit. Today, we think it is an allergic reaction to the sulfates in wine. Our Swiss friend is a wine connoisseur.

I’m beginning to learn what I want in a car, both Porsches and daily drivers. I have some automotive updating coming, plus Cathryn is due for her turn. Stay tuned, one more time.

Post 8 - The Latest Porschessions

In late October, 2006, I retired from American Airlines at the required age of 60. On my birthday, my brother-in-law’s family came to visit because my niece needed new wheels. We would celebrate at dinner that night, so we hit the papers and used car lots with an eye on getting back by 5 PM. We found a VW Jetta with a nice stick and clutch. When we got back to the house, they went inside while I got my jacket out of the trunk. I walked inside to a family reunion! My mother-in-law came from Oklahoma, my sister-in-law’s family from Philadelphia, and our younger Swiss foreign exchange student from L.A. My neighbors were there, too.

In the next few months, we went to Switzerland for our friend’s 60^th, and I dumped my (IBM compatible) PCs for Apple’s iMac (good move :-).

My big birthday present from Cathryn was a gift certificate to the Porsche Sport Driving School, two day course. We drove to Birmingham, Alabama for the racetrack school. We visited the awesome Barber Vintage Motorsports Museum which specializes in motorcycles. It is part of the Barber Motorsports Park, which is actually a beautiful park. I received instruction from actual Porsche race drivers in auto-crossing, wet skid-pad, heal-and-toe down-shifting, off-roading, and plenty of track time. At the evening’s dinner at a resort, I sat next to my favorite Le Mans’ winner, five-time Rolex 24 winner, Hurley Haywood. The next day we advanced to higher power Porsches. The last event was a ride-along with a race driver. I grabbed Hurley Haywood’s Carrera S’s door handle. I giggled all the way around the track. He was amazingly fast. I couldn’t believe we were in the same car as I had just driven. There must be a secret button to push to get warp speeds. It was two days of the most fun I’ve ever had.

Vehicle #28

Cathryn’s Sebring convertible was ten years old, which is about a 20 non-Chrysler years, so repair bills were exceeding new car payments. With recent $4/gal. gas (and the fact that the driver is a liberal) another direction was warranted. She bought an ’08 Toyota Prius Touring Edition. As opposed to the base edition (which we rented before) the Touring has some compromises for handling. It is nice to see mileages in the 40s. 

We went back to try Kauai, again. This time it rained all week until the go-home day. I got a helicopter flight to see the island and its waterfalls and Waimea Canyon. We had time to drive a Chrysler 300 on the “C” shaped road around the island before our night flight to L.A. The 300 was a nice rental.I decided to do a Driver Education event at the Carolina Motorsports track in South Carolina. I needed a helmet and a car inspection. The Porsche service manager said I had oil seeping from my rear main seal. If it starts to drip, I wouldn’t be allowed on the track. We fixed that and two new back tires (they last about 12,000 miles and $700/pair). I took the Boxster, stuck numbers on the doors and met a really nice instructor who drove one of Paul Newman’s old Datsun 510 sedan race-cars. The first day was tough; a lot to think about. The next day was better and he got approval to let me go solo the rest of the day. (A couple of years later, my instructor died at the track.) I skipped the last session. I was tired and had to drive three hours home. So much concentration. I’ve also done some Porsche Club auto-crosses, which are a maze of orange cones in a parking lot or on an old runway.

I was thinking I would keep the Boxster for two or three more years, then go back to an old geezer’s 911 with the new automatic. (In my mind, 911s are Grand Touring/GT cars and Boxsters and Caymans are sports cars.) Hopefully, a convertible (or “cabriolet” for pricier cars). Our club had a Tech (as in technical) Session at the dealership in Fayetteville. It was about the new automatic transmission Porsche calls “PDK” or “Porsche Doppelkupplungsgetriebe.” In English, that’s Porsche Double Clutch. Instead of a torque converter, which is like two nautilus shells facing each other with a thick fluid in between, two concentric clutches take turns engaging, while a computer decides which one is next. This way, there is no disconnect of power transmission. Gear changes (7 for Porsche PDK) go bang, bang, bang. Highly efficient and spooky good deciding gear choices. 

Vehicle #29

After the session, the group was to go to Ft. Bragg to give a donation to Fisher House, but I hung back with a newsletter editor to transfer files I would need, as I was the new editor. Apparently, the sales manager must have seen me drooling over a blue 911 (Type 997.2) cabriolet with PDK sitting in the showroom. He walked up and showed me a piece of paper. I scanned the number beside the word “Discount,” almost $16,000. My knees got very shaky. First thought, it is not a good tactic to faint in front of a salesman. With a rough voice, I said “I’ll have to check with my wife.” I went on to catch my club-mates.

It wasn’t easy, but I talked Cathryn into it. I figured it was about $5,000 below invoice. Sure enough, I later found out that Porsche sends “launch cars” to dealers to show major changes and new colors. If they don’t sell in six months (as 911s don’t in a military town), Porsche rebates the dealership $5,000. I cleaned up the Boxster and drove it down on Monday. I gave them my price on the Boxster, but the appraiser said they couldn’t do that. I had the Edmunds and Kelly Blue Book figures in my hand. I said “I’ve checked the current sales values in this area, and that is the average. Normally, I get better than average, but since you offered me a good deal, I’m going to accept an average value.” Silence. Then the sales manager, standing next to me, said, “Give it to him.” Later, I asked how the resale of the Boxster went. They said they had two couples bidding on it the next day.

On the way home from Fayetteville (one-hour drive), I discovered something about the PDK I didn’t like. I took back roads, as usual. I was on a two-lane when a passing opportunity arrived. I was in the automatic mode (you should avoid over 4200 RPM for the first 2,000 miles), so I switched to “Manual” mode, clicked down two gears, and punched it. Immediately I heard the engine start missing because it was at the rev limiter. “What the he!!” I clicked up gears and things were OK. What happened is that although gears are not supposed to change in “Manual” unless called for (except for approaching idle), when you press the kick-down switch behind the gas pedal, it automatically down-shifts. Surprise! In the years to come, I had some warranty issues with fluid pumps which I blame on its sitting for six months in a showroom. Porsches are one of the most reliable brands in the world.

In August of 2009, we went to Stuttgart and Switzerland again, this time to see the new spaceship looking Porsche Museum and the Mercedes-Benz Museum. A couple of months later, we met our Swiss friends in Chicago to drive a minivan along Route 66 to Santa Monica. It was almost 2,500 miles with around 100 miles on limited access highways. Nineteen days total, with 12 on the road. We spent extra time in Bartlesville, Oklahoma, Santa Fe, and the Grand Canyon. Never a bad hotel nor meal. It was a great time. (Article follows.)

Vehicle #30

Having discovered how useful a minivan is in hauling people and stuff, I began to think of one. It would eventually go to my step-son’s family, but for now, it would keep the miles down on the 911. I had sold the Accord and thought of an Odyssey. One day, I was having a car inspected and noticed a used car lot next door. Two Odysseys were there. I think the place was going into bankruptcy (a term meaning a change of names and a reduction of bills). I asked how much and was surprised at the price. I checked out the book values and found a $1500 savings. I had a Pre-Purchase Inspection (PPI), then I bought a red ’02 Honda Odyssey minivan. That’s when I wrote my “Mach 1 to Minivan.” (Article follows, pg. 35-36.)

Post 9 - The End of an Era

Vehicle #31

It wasn’t long before my step-son’s family needed a replacement, so there goes the minivan. My dream plan was for a Golf GTI or TDI as my daily driver. In the summer of 2010, I went to the VW dealer. Problem was, the TDIs were in short supply. They didn’t have one. I had them check around. They found one in Greenville, a hundred miles away. The options and color were good, so it was delivered. A misunderstanding on the price led to another trip to the sales manager, which I stuck to my guns for another discount. At the time, the Golf TDI was the number one car Consumer Reports readers would buy again (scored one point behind was the Porsche 911). It was also the cover car for the annual auto edition. It is great. I get about 38 MPG around town and 42+ on the highways using diesel (slightly above posted speeds :-). I [did] highly recommend the VW TDIs.

One of the reasons Cathryn wanted me to go to the Porsche Sport Driving School is a prerequisite to driving the “Tail of the Dragon.” Actually, named just “The Dragon,” it is an 11.1 mile run on US-129 from Deals Gap, North Carolina, into Tennessee with 318 turns. We joined our club’s three-day Mountain Moonshine Run down the Blue Ridge Parkway to Cherokee. It is nationally known, especially to motorcyclists, so we picked a Tuesday morning, early. It is a workout, because there are no straights for a rest. You come out of a turn to see the next turn coming rapidly. You look ahead out the side windows.

Vehicle #32

I liked the 911 Carrera convertible, but I loved my old Boxster sports car with a stick. The PDK was highly efficient, but not so much fun. While I was having my Golf serviced, I walked up to the Porsche dealer, where I have hung-out many times. A new salesman greets me as I look at the new generation Boxster (Type 981). We chat, then he asks if I want a test drive. “Sure!” Then “Wow!” Besides the big leap in interior and exterior styling, the chassis is awesome. Stiffer chassis’ mean better rides and better handling. I was super impressed, but thought it wouldn’t work out financially right now. Thanks. I went home and checked my Carrera’s value and found it doable. I couldn’t afford the dealer’s loaded-up samples. I wound up selling my Carrera to them and ordering a 2013 Boxster with limited options. We agreed on the out-the-door figure. It was supposed to be an even trade.

Vehicle #33

 Over three months later, it arrived. I went to pick up the car and the salesman said I owe for the state user fee (≈$1700 tax) and doc fee( $499). I said “No deal!” We had agreed on the out-the-door check. Much discussion ensued, until we both fell silent. The sales manager, across the building, heard us (intentional on my part) and said come into my office. Much discussion ensued, then silence. Then he started grabbing Post-Its and the calculator. When the smoke cleared, he said “I’ll give it to you.” I was almost in tears, “Thank you!” I paid just the doc fee and title. 

This is the best Porsche (or any car) I have ever owned. I love it. The stick makes a big difference in the fun factor. The mileage is above 25 MPG around town. It has a very good nav system, plus satellite radio, and some leather pieces. I feel better every time I drive it. I took it to West Virginia with my club’s Spring Tour and I took Cathryn to Bristol and drove some Appalachian Mountain roads. I got 3^rd Place for modern Boxsters at our PCA Oktoberfest, where we raised thousands in donations for the Pretty in Pink Foundation. Cathryn is now breast cancer free.

The Aftermath of Diesel-gate

In September of 2015, I was enjoying my daily driver, a 2010 Golf TDI (D for Diesel), and my fun car, the 2013 Porsche Boxster. The US EPA issued a violation of the Clean Air Act to Volkswagen Group. A team from the U of WV tested some cars on the road for mileage and emissions (unlike the EPA’s treadmill in a strip mall space). The worst results were 40 times the limit for Nitrogen Oxide (NO) (an effort in the 50’s to clean up the L.A. basin). Findings reported that VW and some maybe unwitting partners, had rigged the software to clean up went it was in a testing condition. The result was to remove hundreds of thousands of cars from our roads, with no recycling or exporting (read crushing). BTW, the professor at the U of WV said that the emissions at even 40X is not a hazard to your health.

Why I bring this up? Now I need a replacement car, but helped by a generous check from VW and a token from Bosch. About the same time, I was getting tired (read old) of maintaining four vehicles (VW Bus, Prius, Boxster, Golf). My daily driver sat outside, under the sun, rain, bird poop stations, etc. I wanted to get down to two vehicles in the garage. I started a wide spreadsheet, but the one vehicle that I mentioned in the Mach 1 to Minivan article, with “TDI” was “GTI.” Unfortunately, it was about $5,000 above my price target. I noticed “Deals” on the dealer’s web page. I clicked. 6 '16 GTIs are $5,000 off!

Vehicle #34

I picked out a red SE trim level (#3 of 4), with a dual clutch transmission, just like the Porsche PDK automatic. A stick would be a hoot, but today’s automatic drivers would make a clutch worker scream. I love it. It can be like my TDI, running around town with comfort and economy, but when to mash the throttle, or switch to Sport mode, it lights up, as in tires spinning. The Mark 7 generation of Golfs were the World and MotorTrend Car of the Year, and a dozen more top awards.

So, what happened to the TDI? Well, an organization (and I use the term loosely) was formed to process the recall. They kept losing my documents and their online operation was flawed (a half dozen documents and only one input allowed). I kept sending messages to their fax for help. Finally, a lady responded and I got accepted (behind many others). So, I had two Golfs for months. We finally sold the ’78 Campmobile (aka Bus) to a caring couple.

Post 10 - More Hybrids 

Vehicle #35 & 36

In 2018, Cathryn’s ’08 Prius with 220K was side swiped and totaled. We looked at another Prius, but they didn’t hit the mark. I tell car shoppers to look at the South Korean cars today. Number one at JD Powers. She had to go to the mountains for church work, so I spent a week looking for what she wanted, a 2018 Hyundai Ioniq Hybrid. It is the new competitor to the Prius. We love it. Great design, warranty, and quality. 55 MPG.

In 2019, the front end was taken off at a stop sign and called totaled. She replaced it with the same car,  one year newer.

Post 11 - We're All Going to
SUVs

Vehicle #37

In the spring of 2021, used car prices were skyrocketing, as new cars were in short supply due to to parts (e.g. chips) and transportation. I happen to check my GTI's value, and got a pop-up on JD Powers website from CarMax. It was for about $3,000 above recent "Retail" values, not "Trade-in." Well, there were a couple of features missing in my GTI, but mainly driver safety aids, such as Automatic Emergency Braking, Cross-Traffic Warnings, etc. I also was not able to have much fun with the performance car. Besides the pandemic, I would have to drive 45 minutes to to find an open road with curves. If I traded in, I would be limited in overall length because my side of the garage has a workbench, so 180 inches is my limit.

My first thought (the Mk 8 GTI would be way over my budget) was the highly rated Hyundai Kona, subcompact SUV. On my way back from our Saturday Porsche Club cars and coffee. I stopped by my dealer, and salesman in Cary. They were busy, so the sales manager went to the remote lot across town and brought a 2021 Kona Ultimate FWD in silver (no blue available anywhere). I took it up to the closed American Airlines Reservations Center and their traffic circle. The 1.6 liter turbo is peppy and it handles well. Cathryn did not know I was car shopping, so I got an offer and went home. I jumped back on You Tube and remembered that the AWD version has multi-link rear suspension vs. torsion bars (like old Beetles and VWSs). The problem was another $1,500. I found, online, an AWD one, otherwise identical, at the Raleigh dealer.

At first, they showed me an offer that had the dealer discount blank. There was a $3,500 rebate and a $500 military discount, already (with vehicle shortages???). I chewed out the sales manager...either you are either incompetent or unscrupulous. I hinted what I was looking for. He came back with and offer hundreds of dollars less than the Cary dealer's FWD model. About $5,800 off sticker, and I wasn't paying for all the dealer markup items, which I hate. I showed them the GTI's offer and they topped it by a couple of hundred
dollars. I got a car loan for well less than $200 for a short period. I was an SUV dis-liker, but no more. The entry/exit height is easier. It has no issues with handling. It has a head-up display, kinda like my Boeing 737-800. I am more comfortable in parking lots, where vehicles and people go right behind me with my backup lights on. Hyundai is doing a great job. One of the highest satisfaction ratings. Best warranty. Free service for three years.

Vehicle #38

About nine months later, the car market was still crazy. I saw that my '21 Kona Ultimate was worth more than the new '22 Kona N-Line, a new trim that was sporty but not the full-on Kona N (like BMW M or Mercedes AMG). The N-Line has a sportier suspension, 20 more horsepower, more tech, better mileage, and looks better. I found a sleepy Hyundai dealer a hundred miles away, so I drove there on the last day of the month. They had only three new Hyundais, all met my desires. I made an even trade, I just paid the closing costs. Happy days!

Wrap Up

Thanks for sticking with this blog. It got boring at times, but I hope you enjoyed some of it.

It has taken a long road (and many short roads) to get to where I am with cars, but I think I will keep these two cars a long time (yeah, I know, I’ve been wrong a couple of times before), so I’m settling down for now, I think.

At the very beginning of Post 1, I mentioned how this idea got started. First, it was an article I wrote for my Porsche club’s newsletter, Der Wirbelsturm, about a mysterious trip along Route 66 in 2009. (I was the Newsletter Editor for seven years.) I’m going to show you the articles (you might want to expand them):