If Johnny ever thought counting the days to Christmas was tough, it was nothing compared to waiting for his ride in the Spyder. Photo by Hugues Vanhoolandt
The following true story is based on the recollections of John Wiech, who bent my ear for a few hours at a car meet last year. Our apologies for a story about Porsches but it’s the truth and it’s a sin to tell a lie, particularly at Christmas time. [Ed.]
The subject had started another family argument. Johnny had become enamored with a rare foreign car but no one knew exactly how to pronounce the name. It was German, or no, not really, “…it’s Austrian,” said his Dad. “But it’s made in Stuttgart,” said Johnny, being careful to put the “sch” in. He reasoned that the sch in the car’s name might sound the same and the vowel at the end be pronounced. His older sister said otherwise. “It’s Porch, as in front porch or back porch, without the e.”
She always thought she was so smart.
So young Johnny, in those long ago days of 1955, wrote to the Porsche factory in Stuttgart, Germany, which was a long, long way from his home in a small isolated American town. In time an answer was received on an onion skin airmail envelope that if opened correctly became the letter itself. Mr. Ferry Porsche’s secretary set the matter straight. “Our family’s name is pronounced Portia, as in Portia Faces Life.” Johnny’s mother pointed out that “Portia Faces Life” was not a potential prison sentence, but a popular radio and TV soap opera.
Having won the argument, Johnny went up to his room which was protected from intruders like his sister by a sign that read, “Eintritt Verboten”, just like the one in the photograph he’d seen of the racing department door at the Porsche factory. He would spend hours modifying his model Distler Porsche his parents had bought him for Christmas. Along with the letter from Porsche, he had received a subscription to “Christophorus”, the official Porsche magazine. Johnny would read from it from cover to cover, over and over. His parents would sigh, thinking, well, it could be worse.
And sure enough, it got worse.
A few years later Johnny was at the hobby shop, drooling over the new Scalextric Porsche 550 Spyder he wanted to buy for his slot car track. A man stood next to him looking at the same yellow Porsche. Out of the blue the man asked Johnny, “Do you know what kind of car that is?” pointing to the slot car placed safely behind a glass counter.
The yellow Porsche Spyder was the latest slot car from Scalextric.
“Of course I do,” said Johnny. “It’s a Porsche 550 Spyder”, making sure he pronounced it “Portia.” Jr. went on to say that the 550 Spyder was the first real competition Porsche and had four overhead cams.
“Well,” said the stanger, “I have the real car.”
“A real Porsche Spyder?” Johnny thought a minute. “With all due respect, sir, I doubt very much if you actually have a Porsche 550 Spyder in this miserable little town where you don‘t even see Volkswagens!”
But being only thirteen, respectful, and this being the 1950s, Johnny did not say this. He said instead, “YOU DO???”
Which was a good thing. For then the man said, “In fact I have two Porsches–I also have a silver 356A coupe.”
Wide eyed now, “YOU DO???”
The man was apparently intrigued by this young man who apparently knew so much about Porsches and even pronounced the name correctly. “Well, I’ve got some errands to run, and maybe you’d like to take a look at my 356–it’s right outside.”
“YOU DO?, I mean, IT IS?”
“Sure. Come on, and call me Don.”
Leaving the slot car Porsche 550 behind the glass, Johnny followed Don to the parking lot.
And there was a silver Porsche 356A coupe with red leather interior. Johnny was speechless. It had to be the only one around for hundreds of miles.
“Where do you live, maybe I can drop you off?”
In another day, in another place, such behavior may be cause for concern. But this was a gentler time, in Norman Rockwell’s America. Johnny tumbled into the Porsche.
On the way home, Johnny excitedly told Don all about the special Porsche he had seen at Road America, “…it was one of those real early all-aluminum bodied cars, it had the vent windows just like the ones that raced at Le Mans…and my Dad got a good photo of the car, and…” Johnny realized he was talking too much and too fast and suddenly they had arrived at his house.
It was one of those real early all-aluminum bodied cars, it had the vent windows just like the ones that raced at Le Mans…
Don laughed a little and said “I can guarantee you my Spyder is a whole lot faster than that old racing coupe.” He reached in his pocket and gave Johnny a business card, and told him to have his parents call him.
“But why?” asked Johnny?
“I’ll need their permission to take you for a ride in the Spyder.”
“You mean it’s street legal?”
“After a fashion.”
There were probably words like gosh, golly, gee whiz but Johnny didn’t remember exactly. He was much too excited.
Dad had no problem with Don giving Johnny a ride, even encouraged it. But it was a very long time before this could be arranged. If Johnny ever thought counting the days to Christmas was tough, it was nothing compared to waiting for his ride in the Spyder. He waited and waited and got nervous and wondered if all of this was just a dream.
Eventually Don had some time on a Saturday morning. Johnny looked out the window. To his amazement—he is still amazed to this day–was a silver Porsche 550 A Spyder, with the full width but low cut windscreen, no top, makeshift license plate holders, burbling and idling, waiting in the street just for Johnny. Santa had come in spades.
Heading for the hills, the granite rocks that lined the curvy road high above the town merged into one another as Don got down to business with the Spyder. With only 1500 lbs and about 140 hp, the Porsche Spyder was by any standard one fast car. Johnny was held into the rudimentary passenger seat by an Air Force type seatbelt, forcing him low in the cockpit. The noise and vibration echoed through the car as he strained to see where they were headed. He was not scared but didn’t know why, though they were transiting this road in great hurry, perhaps twice as fast as he had ever experienced. For Johnny it was a revelation. How was it possible to take corners that quickly? The Spyder didn’t even lean. It just cornered. Don got to the end of the road, turned around and did it again, even quicker this time. There was no conversation, just sensation. So, this is what the magazines were talking about. Now he understood and even then he doubted if life would ever be the same. When they got back to Johnny’s house, Don looked at him and they both smiled. But Don had to be off; his wife was waiting.
Perhaps Don became heavily involved in the family business and sold the Porsches, or suddenly moved away. Maybe his wife thought it unwise to encourage young boys to race cars. Whatever the case, Johnny never heard from Don again.
And in the parking lot was a silver Porsche 356A coupe. Photo by Hugues Vanhoolandt.
After telling me the story, Johnny, now a retired college professor, went quiet for a while. Then he leaned back and sighed, wishing now he hadn’t quit smoking, always great after a meal or lecture. “You know, my parents didn’t take any pictures of me with the Spyder. Everyone is gone now, even my sister, who really was smarter than I. I don’t know what happened to Don, and have no way of finding out. I’m the only one left to tell the tale. So you really must believe this happened, even though there have been times I doubted it myself.”
“OK, enough, the wife is waiting, and thanks for letting me tell you about this.” He shook my hand and walked over to his car.
Any doubts I had about his story disappeared as I watched John Wiech carefully drive down the narrow tree-lined road in a beautiful 1600 Porsche 356 A coupe, in silver with a red leather interior.
nice story.
in italian it is pronounced ‘porske’.
and michelin is pronounced ‘mickelina’.
my friend hans ziereis with whom i did a lot of racing in the late 1950’s had a BMW service shop in lebanon NJ. this was early 1973.
altho he was in the BMW business, pride of place in his office/reception area was a 356 coupe (about 1857 vintage, silver of course). i looked it over & asked him, who did the restoration on this car? he said, no one, it;s original.
> jack
Pete — I enjoyed the Porsche Spyder story very much. Thanks for bringing it to us. In Cleveland the Holder brothers, Manfried and Lorrain, had a 550RS that was my favorite car. Manny had a really good day at the Put-in-Bay road race in 1958. He averaged 89 mph for the 3-mile course. Since the ‘Bay races are gone,it’s a record that will never be broken. — Carl
Nice to see a response from Jack. He has so many stories to tell.
Many years ago Road and Track published a list of phonetic pronunciations for exotic cars including ‘Portia’ for Porsche (as in Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice). The following month’s edition contained a plea from a reader for a new example because his friend insisted that Porsche was to be pronounced ‘Port-i-a’ according to R&T.
What an enjoyable story. It is a fine art to modulate the pace of a story in this manner. Thank you.
At alnch in SDanta Barbara, where my sister and brother-in-law live, there was a couple who had met when they passed each other on a Chicago street and both were driving Spyders. As road cars. In Chicago! They both knew they were meant for each other before they’d spoken to one another. I had the guy’s card but it’s long gone too.
My brother just sold his early Beck 550 Spyder. I highly recommend one if you really want a Spyder. I was given the keys once and took it took it for a fast drive. Awesome! But, with no top, no trunk, and tiny by comparison to the SUVs crowding the roads today, it is by no means practical, you’d have to drive it like a motorcycle with your attention highly focused on what other drivers are doing. There’s not much protecting you…
Let me help you guys sort this out:
Italians pronounce Porsche as “Porsz” not to be mistaken with the Bolognese dialect “Purz” (that is used for pig or to indicate a less than perfectly beaving character; note that many years ago the official Porsche showed up with a pig color paint scheme — pink it was and indicating the various cuts from an animal).
Michelin is pronounced by the Italian crowd as “Me-tje-lein” (Me as in “Me and You, while the e in -tje and in -lein are pronounced as the first letter of the alphabet in the English language).
Hello Pete,
What a great story. It reminds me of some my experiences back in the 50’s. A fast ride in a MG Blown TC. it had a shaky fell on rough roads. One fast lap around the old Watkins Glenn 6.6 Mi. with Cameron Argetsinger in his new Siverstone. And my fist ride in a VW standard model around the Glenn Course and then in a Renault 4CV as a follow up. Thanks for Veloce and keep up the good work, Pete.
Sincerely,
Frank Shaffer
Williamsburg, VA
>it is by no means practical, you’d have to drive it like a motorcycle with your attention highly focused on what other drivers are doing. There’s not much protecting you…
Sounds like my Seven.
Hi all, what a great story, I just send it to a friend, with a genuine 356, White with Red leather inside.
As a BIG time collector, of classic SCALEXTRIC I also have all their classic Porsche models, C61 Spyder, all 4 colours – C92 RACE TUNED Spyder – CK2 Porsche 904 diy kit – C46 Porsche 917 K all 4 colours, and C73 Porsche 804. I am educated at VAG, and remember the few Porsche,s that came there, in the 70ies.
Nice site, thanks for shaering.
Best regards Jens Christian Lillelund
From Jeff Friedman
Was just reading the comments. I worked for Hans Ziereis starting in 1977 for almost 4 years as a young man. His “repair shop” was actually a BMW dealership (Foreign Cars of Hunterdon). The story about the 356 in the BMW Showroom is true except it was Ivory, not silver, all original. A small cardboard sign in the windshield – “Do not sit in this car unless you are in the nude”