words by pablo deferrari story and photos by alan jacobson

Alan Jacobson and I have a few things in common; aside from Porsche passion, we were both busboys. Now I’m not sure which was the least desirable job in the restaurant business, but busboys are pretty much near the bottom…alongside the guy whose job was to pick up cigarette butts in the parking lot. The plus side was that you became pals, sometimes romantic ones, with the waitresses and you got a share of their tips.
Those were humble beginnings, but it paid enough to begin fueling my love for Stuttgart metal with regular trips to the book shop for every Porsche magazine available…I even picked up the Dupont registry to see where 911 prices were at that time and how much more I had to save. But Alan had the advantage; his manager had a 928 and 944, both manual, and would take him for drives in these machines regularly. Me? I had to settle for a ride in my manager’s Country Squire station wagon with peeling wood contact paper and an interior littered with extinguished half-smoked cigarettes, crushed beer cans, and dog-eared Hustler and Over 40 magazines.
Needless to say, he was hooked and I was lucky not to catch any communicable diseases by merely sitting in my manager’s shitbox.

Hard work pays off, however, and eventually you’re able to move up the ladder to higher paying positions that put one closer to that dream of one day owning such a car, and Alan did just that.

Those first rides in Porsches got him hooked…instantly. Since those moments, he followed the marque for years until one day, around the turn of the century, he was able to look at a 928 serious enough to plunk down $300 for a PPI. Lucky for his wallet, the inspection revealed a tired old girl running on 7 cylinders after a leak down test…best small investment he made as that baby would have sunk him quick.
Then he set his sights on 944s, and after a string of PPIs coming up with issue after issue, he put things to rest for a bit. Ten years later in 2010, his lovely wife wanted her husband to continue on pursuing his dream and the hunt was on again; this time he hit pay dirt. Our lucky guy scored an ’83 944 with a mere 64,000 miles on the clock. Apparently, the original owner’s son never got a chance to develop a crush on the Porsche because the bastard never let him drive it. This was a good thing for Alan because had the stern old man softened a bit and allowed his son to take the 944 on hot dates, the car would have turned up with more issues than a rich housewife at the shrink.

"...Alan isn’t very mechanically inclined, but he’ll get there no doubt…we all did."

After the PPI came back with some tolerable, minor issues, what with the car still having its original rubber-centered clutch, he took a well-informed dive right into it. The old girl wasn’t a cheap date as he knew before jumping in, she needed lots of age-related fixes to make things right. 

As anyone who owns a Porsche can relate, Alan got to meet other 944 enthusiasts leading him to DE events which only fanned the embers of his passion further. And, man, is he in deep. Hot and heavy with DE stints, he’s further refined his whip with cloth seats that are kinder in the hot months, a steering wheel re-stitch…the list of mods and improvements growing by the minute. And that’s huge because Alan isn’t very mechanically inclined, but he’ll get there no doubt…we all did. As the motto of the Porsche story suggests, “from small acorns,” it’s only the beginning for Alan.
behind every man's dream is a selfless wife...


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