For 48 years my dad (often with my mom riding shotgun) drove around my hometown in his 1973.5 911. And on special occasions they'd head on longer adventures - Sonoma, Monterey, Santa Barbara.
That 911 was his true joy. He absolutely adored that car, cared for it meticulously, and he had a real fun time meeting and interacting with other enthusiasts.
Of course, I wasn't allowed anywhere near it. I couldn't even walk next to it, covered up in the garage. I think I sat in the passenger seat 5 times growing up. Maybe 4. But my parents did go on vacation. And though they absolutely did not trust me, my dad thought disabling the ignition and battery and hiding the keys was enough. Nice try. I knew the odometer was out of order, and no disabled ignition was going to stop me. My high school friends and I absconded with that car quite a few times while my folks were away. My buddy Bill Steinhauser even got to drive it when I got a bit too sauced at a high school party. And there were no Ferris Bueller crashes for me - every time I returned it back to its exclusive spot in the garage in perfect condition.
Dad passed last year, and we're finally sending his beloved 911 to find a new Porsche enthusiast, hopefully to care for it and enjoy it as much as he did. And though it will likely move on from Danville, mom has spoken a bit wistfully that she hopes to catch a sight of their 911 someday, top down, cruising carefree along the open road.
Here is the listing for the car.
https://bringatrailer.com/listing/1973-porsche-911t-targa-44/




















