Sell Honest or Sell Out

For me, there is nothing better than reading about things done with a car, written by someone who has a real connection with it. Julian Balme’s wonderful years of ownership of Wooly Bully, the Galaxie (pic) and the Elans, Robert Coucher’s (pic) old white 356 in Your Classic, Jools Holland’s film on the roof-chopped Rolls Royce, Alan Clark’s (pic) books on his Bentley Turbo and Robbie Coltrane’s classic Cadillac, which he bought in California and then drove across America, inspiring my ownership of not one but two Caddys over the years (2 pics below). If I just had these guys to read for the rest of my life, I would be overjoyed. Their all-absorbing passion and desire to share those great cars was what brought me to owning my own great cars. As a reader and a writer, they are my truest heroes.

Take a look at the stories I like to write and you’ll see what I mean. Bob Tilton’s Oph’eL’ia, Mark Slade’s backdated 3.2 and the Hemi Cuda we shot out in California: these boys all have a serious hot spot for their cars. None are cheque book builders or short termers – they are in it for the long haul. As much as is possible, they do their own work and then settle back and enjoy the fruits of their labour, before the next thing needs looking at. They do this because they adore the machinery.

A magazine project car is not that vehicle. Firstly, it is bought with an exit strategy in mind. Secondly, the magazine don’t want to spend too much on it, so it gets built up with bits supplied by advertisers which are recommended to readers. Then when the work is done, the magazine is used as a launch platform from which to send the car off.

While I completely understand the commercial rationale behind the use of project cars, I find the clinical nature of buying, grooming and then dropping it before the paint has dried a bit cynical. This is especially true of Porsches. To me, old Porsches are like puppies: there are loads of them out there, but very few that you feel you could form a connection with. When you do find the one that works for you, you bring it home to be loved, introduce it to your friends and their dogs and it grows into your life, until it is impossible to imagine handing them over to someone who might not spend the same time or take the same care with them that you did. No exit strategy.

Commerce is key – it’s what pays to write the features in all the magazines I work for – but what I as an enthusiast like to know is that the content in the magazine I am paying to read is created by guys with the same enthusiasm as me. Doesn’t matter if they don’t like the stuff I like, I just want to feel the passion, share the love and ride the roller-coaster of classic car ownership. Parts catalogues and press releases are free, so I don’t want to pay for those things, thinly disguised as editorial. I want honest opinions on products I might buy on the basis of whether it works, not spend my time wondering how much money the mag got off it.

This can sometimes create quite a dilemma if you’re a freelance writer with a conscience, and a loyal readership mostly comprised of personal friends who expect you to tell them the truth. I only want to put my name to material that is authentic to me, and that doesn’t lead fellow 911 owners to make decisions I wouldn’t be happy making myself.

Don’t get me wrong, I love a good blag and am always up for asking for discount, not that I ever get much! I once got some money off some Michelin tyres I really wanted, but they still cost me £450. I got £40 off the Virgin flights to America but I would have still flown Virgin even if they hadn’t given us a discount. The rest of it: Tuthill servicing for my 911s, Leica and Nikon camera gear, car parts, insurance and so on, all costs the same to me as it does to anyone else.

I like what I like and am happy to pay for it. That way I get what I want and can report honestly on it. If it sucks (United Airlines), I can say so and try to get my money back. If it’s great (Kumho tyres), I’ll say that too. That way you know I’m telling it like it is.

I had similar conversations with three different people yesterday, all Porsche parts guys. One buddy said he gave up reading and advertising with US magazines, as the advertorial route is how they all do business. “If they can’t get our part at a discount on the basis that they will mention it in the magazine, they will go get someone else’s lesser part for zilch and claim in the editorial that the freebie is better.” Most manufacturers play the game and give stuff away, but not my friend. He believes that his professionalism and his products are not up for discounting.

I have nothing but respect for his position, and it is how I feel about my own material – that it is not to be discounted and that I owe it to ‘my’ readers to make the best product I can and give it to them straight. Jamie Lipman, my best-ever photographer buddy, is exactly the same. Rain, hail, sleet, snow, he works his butt off to get the shot. That is why we spent 10 – yes, TEN – hours shooting a car for 911 & Porsche World the other week.

The first shoot overran and had to be done in the dark, so we spent 6 hours shooting it on top of a hill with a view: great statics but no tracking. We then came back 50 miles the next day after another job was finished, and eventually got the fat, juicy car-to-car shot. As Jamie always says: BOOM. That’s the point at which we both know that the reader will totally get it – assuming the layout guys do their job. In that moment is the peak of the creative process, entirely driven by passion for the readership to share in what we are doing.

Honesty is the best policy, but passion is the hook, line and sinker. Honesty makes you know it; passion makes you want it. Nothing is worse than no passion.

© johndglynn.com 2009. No unauthorised reproduction.

Tagged as: 911, 911 Porsche World, buying, fixing, My Writing, Porsche, selling, Total 911 magazine