It's Miami in 1972 and as "Playboy of the Western World," I owned a white 1959 Austin-Healey 100-6 — a low-slung phallic projectile whose straight six sounded like an offshore racer. My wife-to-be naturally fell crazy in love with me, and the Healy dispensed its British aphrodisiac all the way to the altar.
The 1959 Austin-Healey in all its glory.
Over the decades, as a childless couple, we moved around the U.S. and traded through various sports cars — the last a 2000 BMW M Coupe that rocketed us through San Francisco and neighboring wine regions. My wife hated the M Coupe. To her, sports cars are roadsters of uninhibited exposure to skies perfumed with spring blooms and autumnal aromatics.
From San Francisco we moved to Baltimore, shipping the M Coupe. Then two years ago, after deciding on an "active adult" golf community in Florida, we wanted a roadster in our lives again. The time had finally arrived — arguably overdue — to own a Porsche. I sold the BMW.
Having blown our money on lavish housing, fine shotguns, world travel and trendy restaurants, the Porsche budget was capped at $18,000. I'm sort of allergic to tools, so the Porsche had to be a solid driver.
Evenings on the Internet narrowed our choices to a 2000 Boxster S or 968 cabriolet, which Porsche built between 1992 and 1995.
The Boxster S delivered a mid-engine, 3.2-liter flat six sporting 250 horsepower, a six-speed and styling evocative of the legendary 550 Spyder. A February 2000 Motor Trend article said, "Like some agile, delicately muscled gymnast confidently treading a balance beam, the Boxster S traces narrow two-lanes with quick-twitch muscle, precision and rock-solid balance."
Sounded great. Owners had posted rave reviews. For about $12,000, we could buy a 60,000-mile Boxster S. It looked like the frontrunner of the two.
However, Porsche only produced some 12,800 968 coupes and cabriolets. About 4,600 hit the U.S. with a near 50/50 split between models. For exclusivity, the 968 cabriolet was tops. And like the Boxster S, 968 owners loved them.
The 968 was Guards Red with beige leather interior and black top.
Journalists had praised the 968's handling, attributed to the front-engine/transaxle balanced configuration. The three-liter, twin-cam, 236-horsepower four-cylinder engine won accolades for gobs of torque and respectable performance.
A Car and Driver article from June 1992 pitted a 968 cabriolet against the Corvette and Nissan twin-turbo 300ZX roadsters. The 968 placed first, but got dinged for its base MSRP of $51,700 versus $41,765 for the Corvette and the Nissan's $39,500.
We were still in Maryland, packed boxes accumulating destined for Florida, when I saw a 1994 968 Cabriolet listed on the Internet by a boutique dealer in rural Pennsylvania. We drove the M Coupe to his tiny showroom, which held the 968 plus a 911S, Speedster, 928 and 911T.
He pulled the 968 outside. It was Guards Red with beige leather interior and black top. The original five-spoke wheels supported staggered 17-inch tires. And the 968 sat low on its autocross suspension, emphasizing the sleek proportions. In that wooded grove, the 968 exuded pheromones of Italianissimo. I was seduced.
With 72,000-plus miles, a comprehensive service at 68,000 miles had been done five years prior. The Porsche Certificate of Authenticity showed the car's completion date of Feb. 17, 1994, at an MSRP of $60,789.
During the test drive the 968 carved through Amish Country backroads via firm steering and suspension. The Tiptronic, initially an objection, shifted wonderfully. We returned to the showroom, and yeah, without shopping for a single Boxster S, I bought that 968 on the spot.
We recently drove the 968 from our home in the Tampa Bay area eight hours south to Key West — top down all the way — where we had driven some 40 years before in the Austin Healy to celebrate our honeymoon. We were blasting that same old rock-and-roll.
