“A fast, snazzy, zippy little Porsche convertible. Hard top. What a car.” My friend, Randy, loved unique cars.
I tried to ignore him.
“You should buy it. A friend of mine owns it. He races Porsches so he converted this 914 to fuel injection. He put some great mag wheels on it,” Randy explained.
“Wow,” I said, hoping to sound suitably impressed. “Fuel injection.” What the hell was that? Being a career woman, a car was mostly needed to get to work. Why would I need fuel injection and mag wheels?
“He’s bought a 911 so he really has to sell this 914.”
Why would three little numbers create a big hurry, I wondered? “How much?” I asked.
Randy assured me it was an exceptional price for an exceptional car.
“Alright, I’ll take a look at it.” It was the strongest commitment I could muster.
When Randy’s friend drove towards us in a Robin’s Egg Blue Porsche 914 convertible, I heard the sweetest sounding engine imaginable. Chrome sparkled from every bit of trim, including the dressed-to-the-nines mag wheels. My heart did a u-turn right into my stomach.
Randy and I both worked for a major corporation. He was a manager and I was the one who recommended which people would become managers. He knew I could afford the car. Besides, if I didn’t feel like spending my savings, Randy could have a loan ready in a matter of minutes.
“Randy, if there’s anything wrong with this car, you’ll be one sorry guy.” I said before his friend was even out of the car.
“Oh, come on. Don’t insult me.” Randy grinned charmingly and led me over to meet the man who was about to hand me the keys to this divine sports car.
I bonded quickly with the sporty gem. I loved driving it. Though fantastically fun, comfortable, and reliable, it did demand serious attention. Once a month, very early in the morning, I would head for a paved country road where I drove it hard and fast. I’d been warned about high performance engines.
Then the regular preventative maintenance ate a fair chunk of my salary. Someone nicked one of the mag wheels and the replacement cost, in 1973, was over $700.00. Although the man who did the nick paid the bill, it made me gasp.
That wasn’t all. I noticed that while driving at night with no top on the car, I didn’t feel safe, especially when I had to stop at street lights. The hard top was in the back trunk so I could not simply hit a button and have it slip into place.
My dream car was watched, stared at and discussed. There was no other Porsche 914s this colour in the city. As a young, single woman, I was beginning to forgo certain social events if I had to drive there. I fussed about where I parked during the day. I did not like the feeling that too many people knew this car belonged to me.
One summer night, I accepted an invite to visit friends who lived south of the city. With a delicious dinner and fascinating company, time slipped by quickly. Finally at 12:45 a.m., we began saying goodnight.
I was the only one driving to the city. It was too late to put the top on the Porsche. I threw aside the scarf that I had used on my long hair for the trip out. No need for it now. I was excited. There would be so little traffic that I could really give the car a good run.
Well over the speed limit, about ten miles from the city, I noticed a car gaining on me. I slowed to the speed limit. It was impossible to see if it was the police. The car came close enough to fall into the blindspot in my rearview mirror, then slowed. It continued to slow down and slipped in behind me.
I did not like the feel of this situation.
The cops wouldn’t do this. I stepped on the gas.
So did the other car.
I said, “Okay, baby, time to get those fuel injectors really clean.” I lowered the gas pedal and the Porsche responded immediately.
As I approached the city limits, I knew the car was still somewhere behind me. There had been no other cars so if headlights appeared, it would be that car.
The first streetlight turned amber. I was too far away to safely get through. There were a few cars at the intersection. I didn’t want to turn right because the street went into an industrial area. I had to wait.
The car pulled up behind me. It was a man. Alone. There was no car beside me, but he chose to stay behind.
What the hell? Is this my imagination? I had to test it. I would take a detour. I knew one that would bring me quickly back onto Main if this man followed me. When the light was green, I raced to my detour and quickly turned right. So did he.
I cut corners around the block and was quickly back onto Main. My heart pounded and my breath was uneven. This guy was a creep. What could I do? I couldn’t drive home. He would simply follow me.
I said, “Okay, God, please help me here. Give me green lights!”
The lights were green, but where could I go? Who would be up at this time of night? What place would be open? Why would I go into some public place? That was a dumb idea.
My mind alert, I continued hitting green lights. He continued following me.
I watched for a cop. I wanted desperately to see one. Suddenly, I knew where to go. I headed straight for the great big, well-lit, full-of-cops Police Station.
I peeled in and abandoned the little Porsche by the front door. I ran into the Station, found a chair and sat in a state of relief. The Officer who approached me listened, helped me put the top up on my car and escorted me safely home.
I loved that car, but I realized the tables had turned. It owned me.
An ad went into the paper the next Monday. The Robin’s Egg Blue Porsche 914 gained a new lover. Mesmerized, but slightly suspicious, the man could not understand how I could sell this perfect little car.
“I may look at a 911,” I said casually and saw his relief.
Soon after, I settled into a quiet, non-goose-bumped relationship with a very ordinary, low maintenance, golden Honda Accord that no one noticed.
Dear Guides, is there anything to add about this situation?
We appreciate your invitation to speak to the story. There is a matter that is often overlooked. We would like to ask you about it.
You prayed for green lights. You were given green lights. You were given the solution for safety. Would you would agree that your prayer was answered.
Yes, it certainly was.
You don’t write about saying thanks.
I wonder if I did say thanks.
Your gratitude and thankfulness is joyfully received by the Corporation of Spiritual Beings who are diligently engaged in serving your every need. As you turn your mind and your heart to the Divine in gratitude and true appreciation, it serves to give back with an abundance that would astound you. We ask that thanks be remembered. We love you and want to continue serving all that is yours. You claim it when you are in gratitude. When you say thanks for yourself or for others, it opens the doors to the abundance that is yours. It is your joyful heart that allows us entry into your abundance.
And that’s our message for tonight. We continue to love our project and working with you. Thank you for all you give.