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I wear a pronged dog collar around my neck. I sport natty dreadlocks and a 7 o’clock shadow, wear wife beaters paired with jeans full of holes and rips complete with all kinds of stains collected along the way. I always chew on a stick and more often than not, I’m barefoot…out in public. I’m pretty feral.

I’m not telling you this because I’m the lovechild of Narcissus and Aphrodite; I ‘m merely setting the scene. You see, the way I look, this homeless/down-and-out/punk stigma that I bear, sets a certain tone in the eyes of the seller…and he or she will treat me accordingly. I don’t look this way to get attention, I just like to be comfortable, ready to get down and dirty at a moment’s notice. Bear in mind looking like I do also makes others feel better about themselves - and sorry for me. The result? I may just get a better deal on a Porsche because, well because, I look like I can use a break. 
Now when I look at any I find in the classifieds, I print the ad and bring it with me in case I have to cross check things the seller says against what was written. And I don’t second guess my gut and look at the car three or four times before I pull the trigger because I’ll dream up a million excuses not too. I also carry a wad of Benjamins because I’m ready to deal right then and there.

I came across one ad in particular that piqued my interest about a 78 Euro. So I decided to drag my ass over to Queens to check out this 928 with low mileage, 71,000 or there abouts, and see what all the fuss was about. The price was a bit ambitious at five large, but they almost always are. It seems as though lots of new or non-Porsche owners selling these cars that need a shitload of help think that badge justifies the price. Sorry, but that’s seldom the case.

So why am I looking at this car then? I have a thing for early 928s, preferably from 1978 to 1979 and when I see one advertised, it’s my civil duty to go and check it out…I’m always looking for the right deal. Curiously, this particular 928 is advertised as ‘Classic car, perfect for project.’ We’ll start here.

From the start, this person hasn’t a clue about Porsches let alone 928s. Most bona fide Porschephiles that I know would never use “classic” to start off an ad, I already know it’s a classic. I don’t need your keen observations of detail to tell me that. By starting off with this word, I’m being warned that negotiating a fair price in the three digit range with this cat is out of the question.
The other bit of the phrase is “perfect for project.”What makes it perfect? The fact that it’s wedged between a bus and a wall with piles of rubbish around it and I have to figure how the hell am I gonna pry this thing out of there? Or how am I ever going to remove the horrid yellow paint job where they didn’t even bother to mask off the rear taillights or side markers? I think I’m OK with the first two tasks, but if that’s any indication of what’s in store, I’m not sure I’m the man for the job.

The next clue of this person’s knowledge in all things 928 is how he confidently and boldly states that 5-speeds are rare to find. If he were to put down the latest issue of Maxim and read a line or two of any 928 book, he would know that these early versions more often than not came with manual gearboxes. But let’s move on.

The wrong; Later S wheels in platinum finish…they’ve even managed to rotate them front to back at one point, a no-no with staggered wheels, any dolt knows that. That paint…wrong, wrong, wrong. I mean, how the hell do you manage to paint over taillights for Chrissakes? Was he drunk, high maybe, or perhaps it was a goodwill act of preservation from the elements. Yellow? Did he have some leftover from painting the kerbs, the school bus? The only redeeming quality this old girl possesses are those lovely H4s. Just look at those eyes, will you? Begging me to take her home and make her feel pretty again.

The closing line in the ad made me shoot the Pabst out of my nose in mid gulp. Serious buyers? Do me a favor, anyone who takes this guy seriously should be strapped to a bed and beaten a piece of hydraulic hose. You painted over everything save the windows, the headlamps, some of the wheels, and oh, that very important crest on the hood and you expect me to take this seriously? It brings to mind the bathroom in my old gym. The painter, lazy as he was, never bothered to scrape the boogers off the wall by the urinals. Instead he chose to paint over them creating this eerie texture you chuckled at…come to think of it, maybe that painter was this guy. As for a trade? He might settle for a crack pipe and some rocks, who knows.

Listen, in the end I’ve decided to not even bother calling the guy to let him know I was there.  My offer would have been too low, the car just needed too much just to put on the road. I should’ve rang him though, I always like to put a face to things. Besides, I would’ve liked to have listened to his pitch about the car as they’re almost always full of fluff, but not that day. When I heard the distinctive ‘pop, pop, pop’ of a handgun in the distance, I decided best to make a quick getaway before I was perforated with hot lead. I may need to sleep on this one…

 


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