the title isn't necessarily an invitation for one to make a choice but a lesson in detail involving the sometimes unnoticeable, quiet evolution of Porsche's superbly understated 924. why have I chosen the unglamorous door handle of all things you may ask? well, I say—why the hell not?
words and photo by Felix Page
I'd come across Spa before, almost by accident. Driving to the ferry port in France at the end of a road trip a few years ago with a friend, we passed the sign. With enough time in hand, we made a quick detour. It was a misty autumn morning with the track in front of us, weaving up to Eau Rouge, we glanced through galvanised gates.
I find it a thrill, this business of Porsche historical mining—trouble is, the internet is quite possibly the worst place to pin-point the finer points of the obscurities I often obsess about. my library of books on the subject is where I start my queries and once found, I pair them with those found on this medium for fun. so it was of no surprise that my latest fixation on the last batch of 924 Turbos reserved for Italy revealed very little for me to cross examine, and what little I found lead me into unfathomable depths...I suppose I have to be the only historian on the planet who actually gives a toss about such things and bothers to write about them.
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