The Curator Paradox - Porsche 911 Carrera

In any form, the Porsche 911 Carrera is a classic. This timeless sports car is the result of 50 years of improvement by the genius German engineers at Porsche. It's an impressive machine that is both uniquely beautiful and exhilarating to drive. Considering it's rear-engine configuration and simple VW roots it shouldn't be either. It's the paradox of the 911 that makes it all the more amazing.

Over the years I've had the opportunity to own a number of amazing cars and the 911 was one of these machines. Bringing this car home was a surreal experience that carried on for my entire possession. Owning her was as much about being a care taker of something special as it was an opportunity to drive that legend. A legend, however, has a way of making you worry.

It all started with the rain. One evening after work I was weaving my way home through crazy traffic on a busy expressway. The low dark ceiling above me began to crackle with lighting followed by an explosion of water. That's when shear panic hit me. On the more rational side, I was worried about the looseness of the rear-end as Michelin PS2 Sports tried to grip like z-rated rubber in the rain. That healthy self-survival thinking quickly gave way as my mind flashed with thoughts of what that dirty water was doing to my perfectly groomed paint. Nuts.

As a result of this nasty storm, the need arouse to clean the soiled dream machine. Who do I trust with this task? Car guys know the damage the wrong towel can do to the finish of your car, never mind a car wash tunnel. Detailers and discount car washes alike could not be trusted. A new ritual of four hours each Saturday became dedicated to the cause of a careful two bucket wash. Not that I'm complaining, this is a ritual I love and continue today on whatever toy finds it's way to my garage.

While we discuss the process of keeping the museum piece perfect, have you seen the delicate leather that decorates the interior of the modern 911? It looks incredible and smells even better then it looks. Touch it the wrong way, however, and you have a permanent mark that will cause an obsessive-compulsive owner to have a full on seizure. My wife, God bless her, couldn't help but put her elbow on the top of those artful door panels. No matter the begging and pleading, she just couldn't stop. Neither could the rolling in my stomach.

What about parking? When I first purchased the 911 she was my only car. My job required heavy travel and provided little expense assistance for transportation to the airport. Reluctantly I would drive and leave the masterpiece in airport parking. Waiting to board for that return flight home would cause severe stress while I worried about the possibility of a damaged, or worse, stolen sports car. At the end of the day, the only solution was the investment in another vehicle that can be used for worry free rain, snow, and airport service. This is an investment I made with haste as soon as the financial opportunity arose.

Cars like this are amazing and worthy of museum piece status. It's a special type of relationship with the car and it's heritage. Just as critical, driving a machine like this is it's own reward. Here we are with the curator's paradox - owner's anxiety has a way of defeating the driver's joy. What's the car guy to do? I've decided to just have a museum piece and get out there and drive it like you stole it. Xanax anyone?