Car Slut Confessions: Porsche Muck

Like many Americans, the 2000s for me were an orgy of home equity, stock options, dividends & cheap loans.  After complaining of our growing tax bill, our accountant advised us, "Go lease some expensive cars!" Well, you don't have to ask me twice, Mister. In hindsight, he was probably joking–but that's besides the point. The point is: I was once the driver of a delicious 997 Cabriolet. (that's a convertible Porsche, people)

[No, none of these are my car. But this is an illustration of fact that I wasn’t the only fool that took this advice]

Never mind the fact that every cop in Los Angeles pulled me over if I even blinked at him wrong. And that I would park in East Jesus to avoid the clutch-grinding valet driver at my favorite restaurant (yeah, I'm watching you, Pedro).  That car was a dream. 

Best of all, she was a manual. The clutch was so smooth, it was like sticking your left foot into a fresh pan of polenta.  The gearbox was like playing a game of Tetris, when it slid in place–you were instantly brought to another level.  And the engine noises…the whirl of that straight 6 makes my panties damp to this day.

[If you’re looking to buy me a present, I’d like my next Porsche to be a Turbo]

And now that it's gone, I'm just another one of those Porsche-hating SUV drivers who curses the a-hole that cuts her off on the 405. I know (and he knows) it's because I'm jealous. But when I get down, I just remember the following:

*my condo-equivalent car payments

*how my daughter christened the back seat with vomit on Day Two

*the day I loaded groceries in the front trunk and forgot them overnight..in August

So thank you Porsche for blessing me with that amazing automotive experience. And good luck to the sucker with my used 997, and whatever you do, don't stick your hand between the rear seats!