It’s no secret to anyone who reads ViaRETRO reasonably regularly, or to my friends, that I have long-cherished the idea of owning an early 1970’s longhood Porsche 911. I’ve had a yearning – not too strong a word – for one for over 40 years.
From first seeing 356’s barrel past us on the autobahn on family holidays to see relatives in the south of Germany in the early ’60s to 911’s tearing by on those same autobahns in the later ’60’s and 1970’s, Porsches captured my boyhood imagination, the 911 most of all.
Why? Well, there’s the lithe, athletic stance on the road, the subtle curves and purity of the car’s unadorned lines, the burble of the 6-cylinder air-cooled boxer engine mounted at the back, and the functional (but not basic) interior, dominated – to this day – by the tachometer set in the centre of the instrument binnacle. Then there’s the performance, even from the smaller-engined 911’s, the handling that defies the physics of the layout, at least until you push too fast and too deep into a corner, and the sheer driveability…a 911 is so simple to drive, so useable, the cliché goes that your granny can drive it to the shops.
And before I forget, there’s the competition pedigree of the marque – to say a 911 is race-proven is an understatement, with Porsche having an outstanding motor-racing history since the 1950’s.
Is this enough competition pedigree for you?
And there’s more. A 911 is possibly the most practical sports car you can buy – a 2+2 seater with fold down rear seats and a decent luggage compartment at the front makes it a perfect GT, certainly for two. I quite like it.
Compared to other high-end sports cars, the 911 was and is reasonably priced – until you come to what seems to have become the “classic” period for 911’s ie 1968 to 1973, before the company launched the impact bumper models, themselves now increasing in price. The half-decade from ’68 to ’73 saw the 911 grow from 2.0 to 2.4-litres, with power outputs ranging from 110bhp to 190bhp for the top-of-the-range S models.
The ultimate incarnation of the 911 during this period – and for many, still the ultimate incarnation of the model – was the Carrera RS, complete with 2.7-litre, 210bhp engine and iconic duck tail rear spoiler – nowadays these are fetching between £500,000 to £750,000 and more.
Classic 911’s have – for the most part – been almost bullet-proof investments, if that matters, with prices increasing year after year. Original or restored 911S’s are hard to find for less than £125k, 911E’s £85k to £125k, and the base model 911T can fetch anything from £65k to £120k. Even the entry-level 911 (if I can be allowed to call the 4-cylinder, 1.6-litre 912 that) commands £50k and more.
That last paragraph explains why I’ve never been able to buy a classic 911. I have owned a pair of 996’s, the first one only briefly before it got written off in the only significant accident of my driving career, the second for almost five years before family demands forced me to swap it for an Audi A4 Cabrio. I even used to be able to put a five-piece drum-kit plus cymbals and stands in the 996, much to the amusement of anyone who saw me unload the car for a gig.
On turning 60 a few years ago, I decided to retire, and thoughts turned again to “would I ever own a classic 911”…and last year, my partner and I made the major decision to move about 150km north from our corner of South Buckinghamshire to near the Warwickshire/Worcestershire borders. For those of our readers less familiar with the geography of England beyond London, we have moved to a (very) small village situated c.25km from Shakespeare’s birthplace Stratford on Avon, 20km from the beautiful Cotswolds – a part of the country we love and have visited regularly over the years – and about 45 minutes south of Birmingham, the UK’s Second City and where I went to university, so the area wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to us.
What this did was free up some cash, which in turn enabled me to revive my longhood dream. 911S’s and good 911E’s were still realistically beyond my grasp, but a good 911T was now within reach. I’ve been habitually checking on 911 prices for years with an increasing sense of dismay, but suddenly I could surf the classifieds with a real purpose, so I did.
Back in the early 1970’s Porsche was not the mega-marque that it is today. For several years, the 911, the 912 and the mid-engined 914 made up the company’s entire range. For example, Porsche built 26,740 911’s and slightly more 914’s in 1973, making just under 54,500 in total, compared to 280,000 cars in 2019. So although the survival rate of 911’s is high, there weren’t that many to begin with and most of these were in LHD for Porsche’s home market and the US, so relatively few were imported into the UK in RHD. The result of that is that nowadays even in the UK, the majority of 911’s available are LHD. Fortunately, many years of driving around Europe has inured me to the potential difficulties of which side of the car I sit on to drive, and equally, the market for classic 911’s is broader when it comes to selling, although thanks to Brexit, importing from and exporting to the EU is now more expensive than it was.
If possible, I wanted a 2.4 coupé; I didn’t want a Targa – the admittedly clever removable roof and anti-roll bar design work well, but the coupé is just that bit purer, at least to my eyes.
I’ve managed to write over 900 words so far without getting to the punchline though I think it’s pretty obvious – I’ve finally realised a dream and bought a longhood 911! I found it with a dealer in The Netherlands based in Ooij in the southern part of the Netherlands. It’s a 2.4 – my preferred engine – in Gemini Blue metallic, a beautiful colour, and my car’s original shade, although it was given a bare-metal respray in 2012, and still looks fabulous today, with even panel gaps all round. It’s an “Ölklappe” model, which while not essential for me, apparently makes it (even) more desirable, since these were built for one year only as part of an attempt to improve the 911’s heavily rear-biased weight distribution by situating the oil tank ahead of instead of behind the rear wheels, a short-lived feature when fuel station attendants (remember those?) mistakenly used it to put petrol in… The interior has been refurbished and looks hardly used, the engine has been rebuilt and is barely run in.
Originally exported to Washington DC and brought back to Europe almost thirty years later, it’s not a show pony, although it is in excellent condition. Its earlier history from its life in the USA is lost in the mists of time, but there is extensive documentation covering the last 20 years that shows it has been very little used since the restoration, having covered only 20,000kms since then and less than 1,000kms since an engine rebuild. Total mileage is c.114,00 km/71,000 miles.
The dealer was selling the car on behalf of a client, who was apparently not in need of any financial assistance, so perhaps disinclined to negotiate. Nevertheless, a lifetime in negotiation meant I wasn’t going to just offer the asking – reasonable though it was – just on principle, but an earlier sale had fallen through so I figured there might be a little room for manouvre. After arranging a video call to see and hear the car, I made my offer and lo! the next day, I heard that it had been accepted – I was finally going to own and drive my dream car!
Delivery was arranged through the dealer and 2 weeks later, a truck rolled up bearing a lovely blue gift for me. It has since taken another 20 days just to get the NOVA paperwork from HMRC to confirm that all required taxes had been paid – importing a classic from the EU is now subject to 5% VAT, another “benefit” of leaving the EU. This allowed me to apply to the DVLA to register the car so that I can get plates made and finally drive it – but I fear that thanks to staff shortages I’ll be waiting another month at least before I can drive it.
What did I pay for it? Well, that’s between me and the dealer, but it’s by far the most expensive thing I’ve ever bought that wasn’t somewhere to live. In 1972 a new 911T was priced at Dm24,480 (£10,853, or €12,516 at today’s rates) – I paid quite a bit more than that for mine…
This means I now have a mini-stable of three German classics, though for how long, I’m not sure – die Zitrone has served me well for seven years and I still love driving it, but I’m struggling to justify running three cars for a likely combined total of c.6 – 7,000 miles a year. Should someone make me an offer I can’t refuse, I might let it go….might. Then again, I might not…
For now, I’m looking forward to driving the 911 to shows and events before the onset of late Autumn – I can’t wait!
