[Gougoushu]

1963, I was four years old. My Dad's 1953 356. Silver, red interior.

I would wait for him to drive into the basement garage after work, then carry his coffee thermos upstairs for him, eager to be helpful!

I'd rarely get to sit in the front seat, because my three older brothers unwilling to share! I got to know those back seats very well over the years. (More often, I rode on the platform above the engine in our VW bus in those days ... no doubt you'd be in big trouble if you let a kid ride there now. )

Porsche wasn't a rich man's car then, and we far from rich. Partly to get back in shape, and partly to save money, Dad rode a bicycle seven hilly miles each way to work for years before buying that then-beat up Porsche. He restored it and drove it to work.

After that car came a 1960 356B, which got wrecked, then, in 1972, a 1966 912, which he has restored three times, and still drives to car shows, now at the age of 84.

When I got my well-worn 1998 Silver/Boxster Red 986, because of these memories, I experienced a deep joy even beyond what I expected.