By on November 13, 2013


There is much discussion on this site about Porsche ownership and the joys and perils therein. David Walton has opined about his very positive 993 purchase and experience. The EIC, owner ofa few Porsches himself, has lamented the recent decline of Porsche, both from a product and merchandising perspective. However, there is one TTAC contributor whose Porsche ownership experience predates even theirs. That’s right, it’s your dear friend, Bark M.

The year was 1999. The scene? The lush campus of The Ohio State University in the serene Midwestern metropolis of Columbus, Ohio. I had just turned in my 1996 Infiniti G20 at the end of a thirty-six month lease, and, much to the chagrin of my father (who had been paying for it), it had been a very painful experience. Three years in the streets, parking lots, and loading zones of the world’s largest college campus had not been kind to my rebadged Primera. There were several dings in each panel, and my band’s touring schedule throughout the Midwest meant that I was about fifteen thousand miles over my 36,000 mile limit. Yikes.

So after he wrote a five thousand dollar check to cover my mistakes, Dad made it explicit, in both senses of the word, that I would be paying for my next car. Uh-oh. My part-time job at Sam Ash Music, plus my weekend music gigs, didn’t add up to a whole lot of income. I figured that I could probably afford about $200 a month for a car payment, which was sounding dangerously like used Civic territory. So what was a college kid who was used to cruising campus in a relatively swanky ride to do?

Dad picked me up from my campus apartment early on a Saturday morning and took me used car shopping. My incredibly spoiled self could barely contain my disgust and disdain as we looked at one early Nineties sedan after another in various states of disrepair. The blue velour interiors in Accords. The female-repelling exterior designs of Stanzas. Escorts and Cavaliers sneering at me. I just couldn’t take it.

But wait. As we were driving from one dealership to the next, there it was, a golden savior sitting on the lawn in front of an apartment complex. A beautiful, masculine, exotic, tantalizing Porsche 944. And the “For Sale” sign indicated a cost of only $10,000! My eyes brightened immediately as I turned to look at my father from the passenger seat of his Infiniti QX4.

“Don’t get any stupid ideas. This is Ohio. What the f—k are you going to drive in the winter?” I shrank back down in my seat, defeated and deflated. I was going to end up with a Ford Taurus. I was never going to get a date again. I sulked through the rest of the day. Finally, Dad pulled into a small independent lot near his subdivision. This dealer was of the upscale import variety, stocking a host of BMW, Audis, Mercedes, and even some Italian cars. I honestly had no idea why he had decided to stop by this lot — there was clearly nothing here for me at $200 or less a month.

Apparently, the old man had another idea. Sitting in the corner of the lot, almost as an embarrassment among the other high-line imports, was…no, wait…really…another Porsche 944, resplendent in red! Okay, so this one looked a little bit rougher than the gold example from earlier in the day, but it was still a PORSCHE! And the sticker on this one was only eight grand.

“How are these things in the snow?” Dad asked the gruff salesman, who clearly had bigger and more important cars to sell than the poor little four-banger.

“Terrible.” He flicked aside the remains of his cigar. “If you want a car that’s good in the snow, go buy a Honda or a Nissan.” Dad glared at me.

“Yeah, we tried that.”

I couldn’t wait to get my hands on the keys. The salesman reluctantly went out on a test drive with me. We took a jaunt through the country roads of Delaware County, and I tried to remain cool as I drove a rear-wheel drive car for only the second time in my life (see a future volume of Bark’s Bites for “How I blew up somebody else’s FD”). It was a 1988 model with a 2.7 liter engine. It had leather seats, a CD changer that the previous owner had installed, and even a car phone in the passenger seat footwell! Oh, man. So what if it had 144,000 miles on the clock? It had a manila folder full of service records in the back seat, AND it had been traded in by the hottest female news anchor in the city-she only sold the car because her super-wealthy husband had bought her an identical convertible version.

I knew it was just going to be perfect.

My dad was waiting for us upon my return. “Dad,” I said breathlessly, “I’ll take it.” He looked at me, knowing full well what type of decision I was making, and said, “Fine. You can buy it.” We negotiated the price down to $7000 and just like that, I was a proud future PCA member.

First stop after delivery? My friend-of-a-friend who was a master Porsche mechanic (yes, I said AFTER delivery). He pulled out the service records from the backseat. Everything had been done at Blagoi’s, an extremely reputable import repair shop at the time in Columbus. Further reading of the service records indicated that the timing belt had been recently replaced, which was apparently a real bugbear with the 944. He gave the car his seal of approval. After I told him who had owned the car previously, he looked me in the eye in the creepiest way possible and said, “Mmmmm. Sniff those seats.”

I named the Porsche Hermann and I loved it like a brother. I drove that car EVERYWHERE. I experienced firsthand how women who didn’t know anything about cars sure as hell knew that I had a Porsche; and they didn’t even know it was an eleven-year old example of the “entry-level” Porsche, either! I landed a girlfriend who was six years older. She had a real job and a real apartment in the city, and people thought that I was her wealthy boyfriend. I bought a set of Blizzaks for it to run in the winter, and it plowed through the snow problem-free all season long. Somebody smashed a beer bottle against the windshield at a bar one night, and the windshield won! In short, it was perfect, just like I had known it would be. Sure, it head a head gasket issue that cost me $99 one time, and yes, it leaked oil on my dad’s previously pristine driveway once, (I was there for that, it nearly resulted in Bark’s premature death —- JB) but other than that, it was perfect.

All was right with the world on the February day I drove it up State Route 315 from campus toward my brother’s house for dinner. I zipped through traffic, ignoring the speed rating on the Blizzaks and pushing the car up near triple digits. The Porsche had worked its remarkable magic yet again that day, this time on the Korean waitress at Damon’s who was really only a waitress one day a week so that she could hide her income from stripping at night. I looked down at her number written on a napkin on my passenger seat, and said, “Thanks, Hermann. We’re not a bad team, you and I.”

In that instant, everything changed. As I swerved over to exit on Bethel Road, a construction vehicle that had been working on the overpass backed in front of me on the off ramp. I was faced with an instant decision: plow into the side of it or go off the road. I chose to go off. The Blizzaks didn’t much care for hitting the dirt at ninety-plus miles per hour and instantly threw me into a spin. I countersteered as hard as possible to no avail, only slowing the car enough to make the inevitable much less painful.

The inevitable was a breakaway light post, situated right next to the ramp. Hermann smacked it with his front left fender, creating a remarkable thud, slicing it at the base and sending it tumbling down the ramp where it came to a rest across two lanes of the freeway. Unfortunately, it landed on the trunk of a passerby first.

I sat frozen in the black leather Recaro, horrified at what had just happened. I looked out of my window to see other drivers stopping and getting out of their cars. Thank God, I thought. They’re coming to help me. Turned out they were just stopping to move the light post out of the way of traffic, and then they got back into their cars and drove away. The worker who had been driving the construction vehicle quickly decided that he wanted no part of this story and hightailed it out of there, and so did the rest of the crew.

Luckily, this was 1999, and I had just purchased My First Cell Phone from Sprint a few weeks before. I stopped shaking just enough to dial my insurance company. I told them what happened and then dialed my brother and told him what happened. I couldn’t dial the number stored under “Dad.” Not just yet. I couldn’t face that wrath just yet.
Fifteen minutes later, my brother showed up, driving his Land Rover Discovery the wrong way down the off ramp. He photographed everything, including the tire tracks showing where the construction vehicle had backed out in front of me. A cop showed up, took one look at a college punk driving a Porsche, and immediately cited me for failure to control (A month later, The City of Columbus would send me a $756 invoice for “Breakaway Light Post, one”).

Heartbroken and terrified, I watched as the tow truck came to take Hermann away to Achbach Auto Industries, where I already knew they would declare him to be a total loss. My brother was kind enough to lend me his Plymouth Colt until my insurance company was able to cut me a check for my car, but strangely my new Korean friend wasn’t as impressed by me sitting behind the wheel of it.

In a week or so, I had a check for $1500 in my pocket and a decision to make: Find another 944 or make a more sensible choice? Well, it turns out I didn’t have much of a choice at all. When I finally did make that call to Dad, he wasn’t too keen on co-signing for another Porsche for me. I took my check to the closest Hyundai dealer and bought a 2000 Hyundai Tiburon in black. The ladies sure didn’t love it as much. It wasn’t rear-wheel drive. It sure as hell wasn’t a Porsche. And after my brush with a light post, that was just fine with me.

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42 Comments on “Bark’s Bites: The Foolish Indiscretion of Youth, Plus One Porsche...”

  • avatar

    Fortunately, I got my 924S at approximately two and a half times your age. Which means it gave me a few years of wonderful service, the repairs were entirely reasonable (having a good independent shop that knows the car well helped), and the only reason I don’t have it now is because it wasn’t a roadster.

    And I miss it. There are moments when I’m tempted to buy it back.

    At least its got me dreaming of my next Porsche.

  • avatar

    It was Andrea Cambern, wasn’t it? Was it her Porsche?

  • avatar

    Similar life experience – bought an ’87 944S2 in ’89. God I loved that car, but the maintenance bills were insane for someone in their young 20’s. I wised up and got rid of it in ’91.

  • avatar

    Can’t muster up much sympathy for someone who as a college student turned in his leased Infiniti and Daddy wrote a $5k check for exceeding the lease mileage restrictions, then Daddy turned around and bought him an $8k Porsche which he promptly wrecked.

    • 0 avatar
      Bark M.

      Although I certainly didn’t ask for or deserve sympathy here, I must correct you on one thing—I paid for the 944.

      • 0 avatar

        And then he bought you a Tiburon.

        • 0 avatar
          Bark M.

          Nope, I bought that, too. Reading comprehension, people!

          • 0 avatar

            They didn’t want more than $1,500 for a new Tiburon? I’m not willing to concede my comprehension is lacking, only that the sentence is vague. I can take a check for $1,500 to a Lexus dealer, but that won’t cut it.

          • 0 avatar

            Well, technically you made payments on it, apparently when dad co-signed on the loan. And I guess it wasn’t paid off, since you only got $1500 or so for it. I would guess you made payments on the Tib too (another co-signed loan?), and really, that’s not much of a penalty car for a college student now is it?? I was curious though, who paid the insurance on all these cars? None would have had “cheap” insurance. And wouldn’t it have just made more sense to buy out the G20 rather than throw away $5k? I sincerely doubt that the lease buyout would have been more than the price of a used Porsche plus $5k.

            Good story though, and I am well aware you are clearly making fun of yourself and how spoiled you were. I am just a tad jealous. All I ever got was $1500 for a used Scirocco, every other car I paid for myself, even getting my own loans.

          • 0 avatar
            Bark M.

            It was a down payment. I financed both cars.

          • 0 avatar

            Don’t listen to these haters. Some cannot comprehend the idea of a father who thought back to his college days driving his mom’s old Buick, and wanted better for his son. He worked hard to support a family and send his son to college, what’s a little more to help the chip off the ol’ block buy slick car to drive around?

            My dad not only gave me an interest-free loan for my Camaro, he also hired a lawyer and got me out of a DUI when I wrecked it. By no means did he let me off scott-free, but he withheld the judgement and punishment until AFTER the business was settled. (While my license was suspended, he refused to drive me into the city every day for work, despite commuting there everyday himself. I had to learn from my mistakes by taking the bus)

            I would do no less for my son. Three cheers for great dads.

          • 0 avatar

            SO after you wrecked your Camaro and your dad bought you out of the DUI, did you pay pack the remainder of the loan? Did you pay him back for the lawyer? Did he give you another interest free loan for another car?

            I am not knocking parents who are well off and help their kids out. But even rich kids need to learn responsibility. Maybe earning it the hard way would have taught you enough responsibility to not drive drunk in the first place.

          • 0 avatar

            The car was totalled and the insurance claim paid off the loan. No, he did not make me pay him back for the lawyer. Yes, he is an amazing father. No, I was never what you’d consider a ‘rich kid’. It was a $10,000 Camaro, not a $40,000 BMW.

            And finally, no matter what you think, nothing short of actually fucking up will ever teach a college kid from driving drunk in the first place.

      • 0 avatar

        Then I must correct you about OSU-world’s largest campus? U of Michigan is over 3,000 acres v. 1,700 for Ohio State.

  • avatar

    Bark M, similar experience here. I bought an 84 944 back in 93. It was my daily car and I kept it at school. I loved that car.

    I read a ton of articles on this car before I bought it, especially the Excellence articles on what to look for in a used 944. I had a few problems with it but I always wrenced on my own cars. Mine was silver. I could see the red one being a better chick magnet.

    I owned cars before and after, but this was my first Porsche and I remember it fondly.

    • 0 avatar

      Indeed the Guards Red was a chick magnet. I recall the main guy in ‘Pretty in Pink’ driving a Guards Red 944. By 1999, there wasn’t a college woman in America that didn’t swoon over that movie as a little girl!

  • avatar

    Bark! Your story couldn’t be more similar to mine! The year was 1999. The scene: college campus in DeKalb, IL. Dad was so gracious enough to loan me money for a sick Z28 Camaro…which I rolled into a cornfield two years later. Dad said “You’re buying your next car on your own”. I found a 1987 944 in Guards Red for $5,000! I couldn’t believe it, I was the owner of a PORSCHE! Women loved it, and it handled great during Chicago winters. But 18 months later it blew a head gasket, so we junked it.

    My third car? A nice, safe, reliable Honda Accord. But I will always miss the 944 (even more than the Z28), and find my self randomly scouring Craigslist for unmolested used versions.

    IMO, Porsche made a big mistake by ending the 924/944/968 line and making the Boxster the entry model (entry still only allowed to those with 6 figure incomes). I can only hope the success of the BRZ will get them to come back out with a fun, lightweight, RWD 4-cylinder sports car for the everyman!

    • 0 avatar

      Northern Illinois University! I went to law school there, missed you by a couple years though. My trusty steed was my ’84 Jetta GLI, which was a waste of handling on all those straight roads through the cornfields.

      It was an interesting experience for a born and bred New Englander. Different world in the Midwest. The Baruth brothers are kind of a prime example. I grew up in a flat out rich ttown in Maine, and NOBODY got a new or fancy car just given to them or leased for them. Leased(!?!). At best it was a ratty hand me down Volvo or Subaru. The daughter of the president of LL Bean was in my class, she drove a a tatty Escort. Like in OH evidently, parents in IL bought their kids new cars.

      • 0 avatar

        Yep, NIU. Coming from congested Chicago suburbs, those straight corn-field roads were great for drag racing.

        I was on westbound Dresser Road, coming up on the T intersection at Annie Glidden, going way too fast on a cold night in February. I locked up the brakes on black ice through the stop sign and spun the wheel. The car flew over the curb and rolled into the cornfield on the west side of Annie Glidden. Strangely, it was rare solid-roof Camaro. Had it been the more common T-top, both myself and my passenger may not have survived!

        As for parents buying their kids cars, it varied. NIU (at least the undergrad population) was a very diverse mix of rich and poor. There were just as many kids driving old beaters as there were with brand new gifts. Although the fraternities were pretty diversified among class, the sororities were not. You knew who were the ‘rich girl’ sororities by the brand new Mustang convertibles in the parking lots.

        • 0 avatar

          Yeah, quite diverse even in law school. Though very much a regional school – a guy from California and myself were the only students in my class not from the quad states area. Poorer kids from Chicago, wealthy kids from the burbs. Still, those parents who could seemed to buy their kids relatively nice cars. To put it in perspective, in undergrad at U Maine, my Jetta was one of the nicest cars on campus, at 8 years old when I graduated.

          I ended up there because they gave me a fantastic diversity scholarship. Being 1/2 nominally black and from the East Coast got me in-state tuition (dirt cheap) and $500/month stipend. Can’t say I loved the place, and I did not end up in law, but it was a great life experience. Luckily without ridiculous student loans, thanks to the scholarship.

        • 0 avatar

          Huskies represent!

          I graduated in ’98 with a degree in TV production and broadcast journalism.

          I commuted most of my four years, so my favorite story involving Annie Glidden Road takes place a few miles north of town.

          As you came south from Route 72 there was a vacant farmhouse on the left side of the road where a cop would frequently hide next to one of the sheds to tag unsuspecting motorists, but being a regular on that route I knew to take it easy there as a matter of course.

          Well, after three years of this I’m on my way to campus on the day before Thanksgiving during my senior year, and sure enough the cop was in his usual spot, but this time there was a twist. A red Cadillac was parked not far from the white Crown Vic. The cop had his window down and a woman in a fur trimmed coat was standing next to the car and gesticulating rather pointedly.

          When I went home a couple hours later both cars were gone, and I never ever saw a cruiser parked there again.

          As near as I can figure, DeKalb County’s finest must have been parking in the driveway without permission and the family that owned the land finally caught on.

  • avatar

    One wreck and he gives up on sport cars. Kind of sad.

  • avatar

    I can’t help being stuck with the (off-topic) though, how did you get dates with the ‘Primera’? A frinds parents had one of the early 90’s versions, and it was nowhere near as luxurious, comfortable, fast or well-built as a contemporary Accord ? I know there were obviously some differences between the euro and US models, but still?
    More on-topic, don’t do triple digits in the winter unless you drive a WRC car (cage and suit and all) just don’t…

  • avatar

    How dare you own a car and have a parent who helped out! You are going straight to hell for that one! I bet you didn’t vote for Obama as well!

  • avatar

    I wouldn’t call spending $4K a yr in maintainance a “very positive experience”!

  • avatar

    Just , _wow_ .

    I’ve never had any troubles getting dates and I’ve always had beaters as I had to pay for and maintain every one .

    I’d not really want to date a Woman who wanted to date me because of my 356 Porsche….

    That’s one of the very few ‘ hip ‘ cars I’ve ever owned .

    Glad all you who wrecked , made it out O.K. ~ so many don’t .


  • avatar

    This story made me smile. I have a lot of similarities, but I did it in a slightly different order:
    During college I had a 91 Plymouth Colt. Traded “up” to a 87 Volvo 740 when my sister needed a car <- both of these were dad's hand-me-downs and worth next to nothing, but very reliable.
    Got the Porsche bug after driving my stepmother's Black 87 944, and in 01 ended up buying a 88 944S with just under 100K on the clock for $7900 (which was for sale because the owner's wife was upgrading to a 968) and had to ask Dad to co-sign on the loan, but I paid every penny. Drove it for ~3 years before it got rear-ended and declared a total loss for ~$4500.
    I loved that car… when it was working… but jeebus what a money-pit. I easily spent more than what I paid for it in repairs over the time I owned it. It was almost a blessing in disguise when we parted company, because I didn't have to make the decision to admit defeat and sell it before it put me in the poor house or stranded me again.

    Bark, when you talk about the car being perfect except for a head gasket and a minor oil leak, I thought you might have briefly lapsed into fiction, but I'm chalking it up to nostalgia. :-)
    To this day, every time my wife and I see a 944 on the road we say, "hey look honey, it's a 944, and it's not on a flatbed!"

  • avatar

    Love the story!

    I’m convinced every car guy has thought about owning one at some point. I’ve spent hours reading about them and fantasizing about owning one, but I just haven’t worked up the guts to do it yet. I was able to drive a 944 once, but it wasn’t a great example. It belonged to my friend’s then-girlfriend, who had gotten it for free from her previous boyfriend, who’d moved onto a WRX or something. It had dry-rotted tires, grinding into 1st when trying to move from a stop, the HVAC blowing only hot air, and it’d overheat if you put it in neutral (even going downhill) but not if you kept it in gear. Despite all that, I loved how it drove. A few months later, she called me to ask if I wanted to buy it for $1500 and I declined.

  • avatar

    Here is my 944 History.

    Three Cars, Three Ladies, a True 944 Love Story.

    It started when I was a senior in high school and the 924 morphed into the 944. The automotive press was ablaze: amazing handling, reasonable price, gorgeous looks, German engineering. An aspiration for a college bound middle class youth. With half of a 928 engine, good mpg, beautiful curves…just a dream.
    Ten year later I drove my first one. College and Med School complete, I was in residency and had a dynamic and beautiful live-in girlfriend. She bought a Silver 84 at my urging for 5k after her 300zx was stolen from my driveway and totaled. It was fast, sleek, and seductive. Sure, the odometer was broken, the maintenance records had been faked and before long it required a transmission syncro, but I was hooked. As the woman and the car started to slip away, I bought a better replacement (for the car). I purchased a single owner white 86 with real maintenance records and a new timing belt and water pump. The woman and I danced together a while longer, each with our own 944, until one day she and the silver 944 drove into the sunset.
    The 86 served me well for many years. It was the perfect bachelor car. It cleaned up nicely for a hot date, and could haul a mountain bike, camping gear and a week’s supplies for a solo vacation. The rear transaxle placement was a design masterpiece. When pushed too hard in a corner, let off the gas and it would settle in and slow down. No trailing throttle oversteer here. Again due to the rear transaxle, it handled moderate snow much better than any sports car had a right to. It would give 30mpg at 80mph, and push into triple digits without hesitation.
    Six or seven years and 100k miles later things started to change. Maintenance started to accumulate. I needed a new ride. I wanted a low mileage 944 turbo, but I hadn’t made a dent in my educational loans. A new woman came into my life that would turn into more than a hot date. Then I saw it in an ad. Guards Red 1984 with an aftermarket Eaton Supercharger for $3500. My home where I lived when the first two 944’s in my life were purchased and where I lived again at that time was on Eaton street. It was my destiny.
    Only one problem, it was 600 miles away in Colorado Springs. I did what any bachelor would. I bought a round trip ticket to Denver with the hope to only use the first half. I got a cab at the airport and explained my quest to the driver. He offered me a flat rate to the car and agreed to wait for the return back to the airport if I didn’t buy it. I couldn’t really test drive it in the snow very well, but I laid down my cash, waved off the cab, and started the 10 hour drive home in my “spare” 944.
    I repainted it. It glowed. It knocked. I added water injection. I picked up some 911 Alloys with autocross rubber. It launched like a missile. It stopped running (some sensor), I parked it. I drove the 86. It got bumped leaving a parking lot. I took the insurance money and did not fix it. The new woman backed into the red 84 while it was sitting in the driveway. She did it again. The water pump went out on the 86 (it was time). Neither one would move. She gave me a ride to work in her Corolla and said “Do you see a problem here, you have two sports cars and neither one works?” I replied, “No, they can both be fixed.”
    That weekend she said something like “You are going shopping this weekend. Are you shopping for a reliable new car, or a new girlfriend?” I thought about it longer than I would now care to admit and chose the woman who is now my wife over the 944’s. We did not know it yet, but she was pregnant. I fixed the 944’s enough to sell them. It was painful to close that chapter. Our daughter is now 11. One day about six months ago I saw the supercharged 944 (I recognized the wheels) cross in front of me at a light as I was driving her home. I exclaimed excitedly, “Did you see that red sports car? I used to own that car.” She replied, “Mom would never let you own a car like that.” I looked at her in the back seat of our 2012 Camry and answered, “You’re right.” I smiled at her knowing I had made the right choice.

    • 0 avatar

      Bravo sir.

    • 0 avatar

      So basically, you worked your way through med school and I assume you are now a doctor, your wife made you choose between a fairly cheap “toy” and her, and now you drive a Camry and your 11yo daughter can clearly see that your wife still controls you and your car choices. Sounds like a sad story to me.

      Buy yourself another 944… you deserve it man.

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