When it comes to 911s, there can sometimes be a big difference between perception and reality. John Glynn examines common knowledge through a psychic microscope.

It happened five years ago, almost to the day. My brother in law had recently passed away, and my company was in the midst of a management buy out, so I was surrounded by some big changes. I have no idea how or why I noticed it, as I never read the local paper, but my gaze fell upon an ad for a clairvoyant medium. 

Many of us swing between the romance of believing in everything and the reality of believing in very little - an incessant head-versus-heart melodrama, often instilled by a religious upbringing. One thing I do believe is that new experiences are good, whatever your faith. Curiosity had the better of me, so I dialled the number. A woman answered immediately, as if she knew the phone was about to ring. Good start.

We had exchanged some simple pleasantries, when the voice at the other end suddenly said “she is putting the pen in your hand”. My mind was clear on wanting to do more writing, so I asked who this pen-thrusting “she” was. I was given a compelling and clearly identifiable response; it was not the anticipated “grey-haired woman who used to be alive”.

Expectations were firmly in check when I met the seer two weeks later. An evenly-matched sense of humour and Irish roots on both sides of the table meant conversation came easy, but the ten pages of A4 notes I made recording the main points of our three-hour encounter tell a more serious tale. There were things that no way could this woman have known about, yet the feedback was right on the money, every time. It was truly a remarkable evening. (more…)

Realising the dream of our own 911 is one of life’s great experiences, but entering ownership is not to be rushed. Get the timing right and the payoff lasts forever, says John Glynn.

Life is a journey. From birth, most of us will experience first words/steps, first day at school, learning to ride a bike, first kiss, first girlfriend/boyfriend, leaving education, first job or university, passing the driving test, first car, leaving home, first house, marriage, children, retirement and death. Inception is usually easy: you just sit there and wait for Big Daddy Sperm to start your clock ticking. Similar simplicity applies when entering nine-elevendom.

Popular opinion may be that buying your first Porsche is as precarious as visiting Vegas with property deeds in your pocket, but the steps are very straightforward. Decide on a model, be nice to the bank manager, and follow a few instructions to find a decent example at reasonable money. Once you have the car in your sights, put it through a professional inspection and, assuming all works out, pay for it. Hey presto.

Ignoring popular opinion, I bought both of mine from foreign countries, without seeing them first and with no inspections. Most people would call this a recipe for disaster, but believing that rushing results in a strong taste of regret, I took my time and carefully infused my ingredients over a low heat. I ignored pressure to purchase before prices went up by another couple of hundred pounds, and made sure the timing was right for me. Thanks to this, my cars rolled up when I was ready for them, and this is why I now enjoy easy relationships with both.

When it comes to rites of passage, timing is everything. Hollywood proclaims that the premier rite of passage is the transformation from innocent boy to experienced man, and has made hundreds of movies detailing teenage desperation to “do it” as soon as possible. I’m more than a little mistrustful of Hollywood, so I waited a while before flicking the switch on my sexual awakening. When my coming of age arrived, it was one of those tales to amaze the grandchildren: in a campervan with a beautiful Chinese girl at the end of a Heathrow runway (ah, the symbolism). (more…)

Humanistic psychology holds that we are all born with an innate desire to self-actualise: to be the best we can be. If this is true of humans, what about the things we invest with certain human characteristics, such as our beloved 911s? Doctor Glynn investigates.

The psychologist Abraham Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs contends that human needs can be arranged into a pyramid, starting with base needs (water, oxygen, sleep) and rising in layers to the ultimate realisation of our potential: the ability to be one’s self at the same time as participating and sharing fuller with other people. Common sense for humans perhaps, but what of the machines we endow with humanistic qualities?

911s have a litany of well-known character traits, endowed upon them by their original designers, characteristics usually described either as ‘flawed dynamics’ or ‘personality’. Personally, I favour the latter. Some might scoff, but the concept of a machine with personality should not be completely dismissed. American psychologist and design expert Donald Norman asserts that “machines have personality traits, if only because they were designed to be conscientious or not, friendly or curt, smooth or abrupt, condescending or understanding, recalcitrant or forgiving.” My kinda guy.

One of the most endearing facets of the 911’s addictive personality is its exceedingly mischievous low-down torque. Combine this stump-pulling grunt with tarmac-tearing traction and communicative steering, and you have a naughty little number, perfect for exploring the empty, atmospheric streets of a sleeping city. (more…)

Saving your car for a special occasion? Then you could be missing out on all the pleasure of a 911 used in everyday life, says John Glynn.

I was lucky enough to share a lot of time with my grandparents when I was growing up, often spending weekends with my maternal grandmother. Tessie was a no-nonsense country girl whose house was dressed with discernment, yet at the same time was warm and welcoming. The kitchen fire was always alight, and the stained glass window at the top of the stairs made it feel like the sun was just outside. She also had a living room ‘kept for best’.

The bright front room was immaculate: a piano topped with portrait photos of her children, the big Telefunken stereogram on which my Grandad often listened to his opera collection, a wonderful wicker rocking chair which now lives in my sister’s house, and a fabulous burnt orange three-piece suite, straight out of the 1950s. Yet Tessie and I sat at the kitchen table.

I was happy enough in the cosy kitchen, with the teapot on the hearth and no lack of laughter, but I never knew who or what my Granma was saving her lovely living room for. She didn’t let people in the house unless they were family or workmen, she wasn’t one for entertaining the parish priest, and perish the thought of having neighbours over the threshold. By not bringing her living room into her life, she was missing the fun of sitting back on the comfy couch, with a cup of tea and a Club Milk, while my Uncle Louis played the piano and gave us a bit of a song.

Many 911 owners make the same mistake Tessie made. Too many keep their cars for best - judging every opening of the garage door on an “is it worth it” basis. I think this is a terrible idea. (more…)

 Forget ‘my 911 is better than your 911′ says John Glynn. As far as real enthusiasts are concerned, the cars are inclusive, not exclusive.

Dropping into Francis Tuthill’s Porsche emporium for some brake pads the other day, I was met with a hive of activity. The team was in the throes of packing for the 2007 East African Safari Rally, taking place in Kenya this November. Rallying in the UK is tough enough, but events like the East African are on another level: 4300 kilometres, through some of longest and most challenging stages anywhere.

The road car workshop has been closed for days, to allow everything to be laid out and double-checked, and an endless line of luggage is being crammed into the containers leaving Oxfordshire a few days later. Not just the cars, and major assemblies like engines, gearboxes and body panels, but cables, brake pipes, nuts and bolts, wheels, tyres, tools and machinery, plus the race truck and 4wd support vehicles.

Ignoring the ‘don’t ask’ body language, I press those in the know on the cost of the enterprise. Unsurprisingly, it is staggering. Big money has been spent on parts to cover all contingencies, and workshop resources have been diverted for weeks, with engine, transmission and suspension builds all taking up valuable mechanics’ time. Shutting the customer side of the business for packing, and another, almost complete shutdown to staff the marathon event is not cheap either.

Even if all seven 911s in the event were being run by the team, all finished atop the leader board and more rally car builds were commissioned as a result, it would be years before Tuthill’s investment was recouped. But as Francis prepares for the next big test of his beloved 911s, it’s clear that this is not a top priority. Passion for Porsche is what’s taking Tuthill to Africa, not his accountant. (more…)