Entered into Porsche Pete's Boxster Board Message Museum, January 28, 2001

One year. I first started thinking about getting a roadster in late March 1998, placed a deposit on a Porsche Boxster in April 1998, discovered Porsche Pete's Boxster Board a week later, switched my deposit to a S in September 1998, and took delivery of my car January 8, 2000. Yes, almost two years of waiting. Seemed like most of my life. Now, after one year of ownership, here are the ten moments that made the waiting worthwhile.

January 8, 2000, Delivery Day. I moved to Salt Lake City from Dallas in the middle of the order process, so the car was delivered in Dallas. On December 27. No trucks available, and weather precluded driving the car from Dallas to SLC. More waiting. I felt like I was 7 and waiting for Christmas. Finally, a call from the truck driver indicating he would arrive the next day, January 8. I was perfectly relaxed when I awoke at 4:00 am. My two boys, 4 and 7 and up at their usual time of 7:00 am, were enlisted as lookouts. At 11:15, I heard them screaming out front, "It's here, the Boxster is here." Very calmly, I said to my wife, "Dear, the Boxster is here. I will be out front helping him unload." Inside, I was jumping up and down screaming, "It's here, the Boxster is here." And so it was. Fifteen minutes after delivery, it started snowing. It would snow for two and a half days. I read the manual 5 times and spent two evenings sitting in the garage looking at the car, opening compartments, examining the tool kit and pushing buttons. Talk about delayed gratification. There is foreplay and there is torture; this was torture.

Wednesday, January 12, Sprint up the Canyon. My first drive was to Park City, about 25 miles up in the mountains, top down even though the outside temperature was 37 degrees. The 3.2 liter engine loves to pull a load, so this was an ideal coming out party. Going up the canyon, the sound was a deep, resonant growl with an occasional wailing reverberation off the canyon walls as the rpms jumped in a quick pass. Interstate 80 is 3 lanes each way, lots of SUVs and semis, all respectfully in the right lanes as they inch up the hill. This was just a casual run for the Boxster, a relaxed 70 mph jog through the wide sweeping turns winding up the steep canyon. A Honda Accord charged up behind me, so I gave the car some more gas and was immediately doing 90 as the Honda slipped into the distance. The mountains around me were covered with snow, the whiteness smoothing the rugged landscape, and the sunlight refracting into bright, twinkling, multi-hued sunbeams dancing across the undulating meadows. The roads were clear, but it was 22 degrees in Park City, so I did a quick turnaround and headed back home, deeply grateful for the Boxster's heated seats. As I neared Salt Lake City, the sun was dropping below the horizon and the sky was a brilliant orange-pink with white clouds. The instrument panel was fully illuminated, a beautiful glow inside the car to match the sunset in front of me. Any regrets? Only that I could not see the spoiler go up at 75 mph as I left the Honda looking at my tail lights.

Saturday, February 5, Michael VanTyne takes a ride. I received an e-mail in late January from a guy who had seen my first drive post on Porsche Pete's Boxster Board, Michael VT. Michael asked me a few questions about the car, so I invited him to drop by for a look and a ride. He came by Saturday morning, and we went for a ride up I-80/Parley's Canyon then cut across Mountain Dell and over the hill to Emigration Canyon. Since Michael only admired the car as I took a posted 20 mph switchback at 50, I knew I had a friend. Michael put in his order and was in my spare seat for every drive until he took delivery in August. After that, he was in the car either ahead of me or behind me on every organized and disorganized group drive.

Five Silver Boxsters, Wolf Creek Pass, Utah. Michael's S is in front, I am at the back of the pack. - photo by Michael Van Tyne

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April 29, Las Vegas, The Boxsters Have Landed III. Just after 1:30 pm, over 100 Boxsters departed from the Monte Carlo on their way to Lake Mead. Turning out onto the strip, I was in the middle of a swarm of Boxsters, every available color, set of options, and drivers ranging from 25 to 75. People on the Vegas Strip stopped and stared, asking inane questions like, "Are you all together?" We were in the middle of Vegas, where the outrageous is mundane, and people were lining the sidewalks to watch us go by. It was quite a sight, a gumball machine array of colors, yellows, reds, blues, greens, silver, black, purples, all spilled out onto the street. Out of the city and onto the highway, there were Boxsters as far as I could see ahead and behind me, a giant flock that landed in the same parking lot for an extravagently planned picture, a Boxster nebula. The picture is a bust, but nothing wrong with spending an hour in a parking lot looking at Boxsters. I know why people walking down the strip were gawking, these are beautiful cars.

TBHL Boxster Parking Lot -photo by Michael Van Tyne

Tuesday, May 2, Howard Graff meets a Salt Lake County Deputy. Following TBHL III, Howard Graff, of London, England, and a PPBB regular, made a stop in Salt Lake City to do a little business. While he was here, a group of Salt Lake City Boxster owners had an evening at a brew pub to get acquainted with Howard, hear why the English prefer warm beer, and talk Boxsters. After a very nice dinner, our guest was interested in a Boxster ride. Since we were at a restaurant near Big Cottonwood Canyon, we decided to take a ride. Howard was with Mike to check out Mike's tiptronic, and I had a co-worker of Mike's with me. It was a little chilly, but we had the tops down as we headed up the canyon so we could enjoy the full roadster experience. It was a dark night, and the canyon road a constant set of challenges, so we were driving briskly, but not aggressively, Mike B in the lead. As we neared the top of the Canyon, Mike B hit his brakes hard and we slowed down. Mike's radar detector had picked up a deputy sheriff about a half mile ahead. Thinking nothing of this, we went on up to the top of the Canyon and stopped to chat for a moment. Mike was still picking up radar signals, so we very cautiously started back down. Radar detectors are not legal in England, and Howard was getting quite a thrill out of the cat and mouse game in which we were unwilling participants. As we proceeded leisurely down the Canyon, the Deputy came swiftly up behind me and then rode my bumper for a couple of miles. Mike B was getting further and further ahead of me, so perhaps the Deputy thought I was purposely blocking the road for Mike to go ahead. Whatever the reason, he flipped on all his lights and siren so I would pull to the side of the road, then whipped around me and sped up behind Mike and Howard. Once he was behind Mike and Howard, he turned on his radar, lighting up Mike's detector. He kept the radar full on Mike and Howard for a couple of miles before he finally passed them and sped on down the Canyon. Howard is still talking about his experience with American law enforcement. I think he is also still drinking his beer warm.

May 14, Mother's Day Autocross, PCA. Mother's Day did not seem like an ideal day for autocrossing, but I was free until afternoon and decided I would go watch. The notice said course set up would start at 7:30 am and the runs at 10:00, so I naively figured I would arrive at 8:30 to get oriented. Instead of getting oriented, at 8:30 I was setting up an autocross course. Having never actually run an autocross, I consulted with my friend Bill, who had previously run one autocross, making him an expert as far as I was concerned. But this was okay, because I was just getting oriented. Then I discovered everyone has to sign the waiver, watching or participating. I was glad to do this, announcing I was a watcher. The rally master, Kevin Mueske, gave me a half grin with a slightly pissed off tone and said, "Like hell you are. Get over there and register, grab a helmet, and get out there." I was still was not quite sure I even knew what an autocross was, but next thing I knew I was putting a number on my car, getting an inspection - "put the mats in the trunk" - and trying to find a helmet to fit my size 8 head. Bill assured me I would have an instructor, much to my relief, plus I was in the second run group, so I had a pretty good idea what the general rules of the game were by the time I was lining up for my first run. As I neared the start line, Kevin grabbed Adam and stuck him in the passenger seat. I now know Adam very well, and tactiturn is probably not quite a strong enough word. Then we were on the course, cones everywhere, but somehow I stayed on course, although everything was chaos. With squeeling tires, flailing hands, and rhymic beating of my windshield wipers, I made it through my first run. I had executed 30 turns in approximately 80 seconds, become intimately familiar with my ABS system, and completed my run with my turn signal and wipers going. Adam leapt out of the car with his only complete sentence of the day: "You're fine." And I was. By the end of the season I was fourth in Street Stock Class G and absolutely hooked. Plus, I developed the ability to turn off my wipers during my runs.

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Mother's Day Autocross, May 2000 -photo by Michael Van Tyne

Mirror Lake Tour Preview, May 31. I had heard State 150 The Mirror Lake Scenic highway is a must drive, and Michael VT and I had talked about putting together a group drive for a weekend in June. My wife and kids were out for the evening, so I decided to take advantage of the lengthening days and do a "quick" drive. State 150 originates out of Kamas, Utah, which is near Park City. Snaking through the Wasatch-Cache National Forest, 150 follows crystal clear creeks frothing white over rocky stream beds, skirting the edge of the High Uintah Wilderness area before descending into Wyoming. Near the top of the pass in the Uintahs, the road runs alongside alpine meadows broken up with stands of pine and aspen trees, past ponds, waterfalls, and campgrounds that were largely deserted. The mountains themselves are rugged, sharp granite with blue-white ice fields flanked by dark green pine forests. The road is as spectacular as the scenery, smooth and with straights long enough to pass slow moving traffic. As I came down a series of switchbacks from a high pass, I came around a hard left and was immediately face-to-knee with three enormous bull elk. Much is made of Porsche engines, but it was the exceptional performance of my Boxster brakes that brought the car to a swift and composed stop. The elk were momentarily startled to see me, but not quite as startled as I was to look up from my Boxster at the huge racks towering over me. I know it is not possible, but they looked 12 feet tall standing in front of my car. They then turned and ran up the hill, leaving me again alone in the midst of the spectacular scenery. And I was truly thankful that my brakes, which had already had a severe 90 minute workout, were Porsche brakes.

Red Rock Run, October 13-14. Inspired by the many Boxster gatherings nationwide posted on PPBB, Bill, Michael, Mike B, and I began talking about organizing an overnight tour to southern Utah. Bill had the route: State 12. I figured it was worth doing, Mike B did the maps and mileages for us, I asked Michael VT to put up a website, sent a draft schedule and route out on e-mail, and the Red Rock Run was born. We posted our intentions on PPBB, arranged for lodging, and trusted fate. And trust it would take. It rained for a solid week before our scheduled drive and snowed in southern Utah. But the weekend forecast was for clearing weather and we had 9 Boxsters along for the ride, including Pat and her husband, who were on vacation from LA, and Per, who was on a vacation tour that had started at his home in Oregon. The drive was truly spectacular, but one photo, in particular, captured the spirit of the event. Notice the spoilers on the three lead Boxsters are up, indicating they are above 75 mph, while the Guards Red S has not yet hit 75. Powell Point is in the background. Great roads, spectacular scenery, and a great group of people gathered to drive their cars.

Powell Point, Red Rock Run -photo by Michael Van Tyne

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East Canyon, October 29. Snow was expected the next week, so I got up early and headed for familiar territory, East Canyon. I had driven this road many times, but this was a bittersweet drive because the road would soon close for winter. What had been a garish display of fall colors just a couple of weeks before was now greys and browns intermingled with the bright greens of the evergreens. The area was completely deserted after a week of rains, so it was just the Boxster and me out for one last fall run. Since this was published in Zeitung (and is now online), it is enough to say that the year was coming to an end much like it started, with the Boxster in the garage waiting for even a hint of sunshine and a window of dry roads.

Emigration Canyon and Mountain Dell with my son, December 23. Snow and more snow. I guess a fairly normal winter, but I am a newcomer and cannot really judge. All I know is it has been difficult to find suitable days devoted to Boxster driving. The weather was warm enough the week before Christmas to melt a fair amount of snow, and I spent most of Saturday detailing the car, something I try to do every 4-6 months. Freshly waxed, the interior thoroughly cleaned, and the leather moisturized, I decided I could take the car out for a quick spin without risking too much. My oldest son, about to turn 9, wanted to go along, so we headed out for Emigration Canyon, one of the few contorted stretches of canyon asphalt open year round. Taking our time going up the Canyon to avoid the occasional crazed jogger, we were talking about the Boxster and Porsches in general. Alexander is a voracious reader and can remember details of little importance, unless you really like Porsches. "You know Dad" - this is how most of our conversations start - "more Boxsters are silver than any other color." We talked a little about this, how I liked other colors, but silver just seemed right to me. "Well, you know Dad, the 356-001 was silver and it was the first Porsche. And since this is your first Porsche, it has to be silver. And when I get my first Porsche, it is going to be silver." I told him I thought this a pretty good plan. I hope his first year of ownership gives him the same joy I have found in my car. But, then, it is really not a car, it is a Porsche. And it is the Porsche people, Michael VT, Bill, Mike B., Howard, Jason, Narendra, Adam, Kevin, who are part of why it is more than a car.