Welcome to Little Car in the Big City, where I highlight fascinating cars I found walking around a town that is known for being bigger than everything else, but where every car is fighting to stand out: New York, New York.
It is common knowledge that there are three types of Porsche owners in the world. The first is what is now known as the "Don Lemon." (Full disclosure: I once was an intern at CNN where on occasion I spoke to Don Lemon on the phone; he was very nice.) The Don Lemon has made some money, and knows he is supposed to get a car with said money, so he gets something that says "Carrera" on it and that's about all they know about it. The Don Lemon is a nice guy, I suppose, but you'll never see them at a local car meet. Usually they've got the convertible version, and they tend to be an orthodontist, not a news anchor.
The second type I find to be the most boring. They have the latest Porsche 911 Turbo, which is a swell car, but they insist that everyone pronounce the brand "Porsh-uh." Not that that pronunciation is incorrect, they just make everyone else pronounce it that way, even if it's totally unnecessary to bring it up in conversation. A new dad walks up with his daughter, introducing her for the first time to a beautiful machine of speed, and he says "Look Betty/Samantha/George/Whateverkidsarebeingnamedthesedays! It's a Porsh 911!" And the owner runs up and goes "HEY! WOAH! It's pronounced Porsh-uh." Confused looks then abound.
And then the third type is the owner of this, a 1973 Porsche 911:
In today's world the car is small and unassuming, despite the red paint. Even a modern Cadillac dwarfs it, let alone a Cadillac from when this car was new. Sure, a new Honda Civic outclasses it in terms of pure horsepower, but it's light as a thimble, infinitely chuckable, and it's always twitching to kill you.
It's a bit like a friendly Chihuahua with just the slightest touch of the rabies.
An excellent car, then. Which is why when you see one on the roads, you know they've been cherished, as you can see by the fact that this owner, who is unfortunately from New Jersey, took the time to put historic plates on it.
They've also took the time to put sheepskin on the seats, like an airline pilot or a cab driver, I'm still trying to figure that out:
Either way, it's a gorgeous car in gorgeous condition, and that's what LCBC is really all about – taste. Even if your seats are covered in sheep peelings.