For some strange reasons, the crowd that is into older Porsches are always willing to get up early for a chance to drive their cars and get breakfast. I have several theories on why, in no particular order :
The cool morning air produces a more dense and hence more powerful compressed package for explosion in each cylinder. A sort of supercharging by time of day.
The roads are blissfully clear of commuters, shoppers, and other impediments to a spirited blast.
The loaded home fries at the breakfast place will grow hair in places on your person that have not seen it for over a decade, and in some places that it is not supposed to be.
It is already noon in Germany, so it is not really early.
They have to get up to relieve the bladder at ungodly hours anyway, so why not go for a drive.
Lunch or dinner are more expensive than breakfast.
Whatever the reason, the phenomenon has held true. The early 911 group typically meets at 7am to attack a now-famous loop in the area, the recent post on the Hershey meet emphasized a very early start, and an informal group in our area has only successfully gotten together if breakfast is involved. Runs to PVGP and Limerock also tend to start in the wee hours. And, of course, the opening scene from LeMans takes place early in the morning. So it must be the naturally preferred time of day for the early Porsche. A few weeks ago, a few of us chose our reasons and decided to meet at a Diner in the area.
I arrived first and the waitress asked about the car. By now people usually guess that anything with chrome on it is old. A 1970 Targa looks nothing like a 2005 Carrera to those in the scene, but not to everyone else. She said that her girlfriend’s ex had one just like mine from the 1990s. A guy told me about the time he was passed on the Autobahn by a car like mine back when he was stationed in Germany. Then a young boy came over and he asked how fast it went. I said fast enough. Even before coffee, people get talkative about a classic Porsche.
Bill bows in worship of Chris’s engine bayTom, Bill, and a few of the crew wandered in and we shot the breeze as others straggled in. We talked about cars and motorcycles and racing and the ones that got away, over eggs and home fries and coffee. Then we paid the bill and congregated outside around the cars. It was a small but interesting collection of cars with a 912 soft window, my Targa, Ed’s hot-rodded 912, and Chris’s hot-rodded 77 911S. I had seen all of these cars many times before, but discovered something interesting about each. Incoming customers looked and commented and took pictures. We all attempted to leave for at least 30 minutes, but some final bit of conversation prolonged things time and again. You would think that after years, all the stories had been told, but they have not. Or at least we don’t remember them all, so it is ok to tell them again. Recycling of a sort.
Finally, the group broke up before we could be prosecuted for loitering. Some were off to further automotive adventures and others to simply drive some more. By this time, many cars were out and about, and the day was fully underway. I took a few back roads to prolong the mood as long as possible and arrived home with a busy day ahead. No matter, I was already fortified with a high carb, high Castrol, high speed start to the day.