Did your startup just get bought? Are your tech bros buying Teslas, or Lamborghinis or Ferraris or Maseratis, or brand new Porsches, while you’re more of a programmer cog who shuts up and ships code and doesn’t know if he’s Ryan Lochte enough to freestyle down that urine soaked lane? Because Tesla batteries die, owning an Italian muscle car is like dropping soap in front of Guido the prison mechanic, and a new Porsche — while teutonically gorgeous in a Claudia Schiffer kind of way — is going to hemorrhage value until you sell it in a few years. If you want to dominate startup-sellout culture while remaining true to your Steve McQueen self and not losing money, here’s what you do: you keep your current car for commuting and get a sweet Zuffenhausen classic just for weekends and those poseur startup events with all the tech starfluffers so that when the VC’s pull up next to you in the parking lot they’ll be looking at you with that look that says: “I need to have a Cobb salad over at Buck’s with that free-thinking muldoon and find out what he’s all about.” Something handmade and gorgeous, something likely to hold or go up in value — something like this sweet-as-blackberry-strudel collector-quality Porsche Carrera 911 Cabriolet with less than 28,000 miles.
Let me repeat that: Less than 28k miles.
Internally designated the 993, this “ass-engined Nazi slot car” is the last of the air cooled 911s. The Paul Atreides of Porsches. And it can be yours. There’s just one catch: I love this car like some people love their kids. Maybe more than some people love their kids. I mean, I’ve seen some people’s bratty kids. But whatever. The point is, I want to make sure the Kwisatz Haderach here is going to a good home. You’re gonna have to make me believe you’ll treat him with respect and get him all his shots and love him and hug him and only use him for good purposes. And by good purposes I don’t mean Gom Jabbar-ing him in a bunch of 0-60 tests. The only people who care about 0-60 times are Tesla fan bois and grlz and Bene Gesserit witches. What I mean by good purposes is: Making you impossible for the classy ladies to resist, like those clear plastic air popper things you get in Amazon packages, or Ryan Gosling, or even me, bruh. I’m middle aged and doughy, and the classy ladies are on me like ants on candy for no other reason than my sweet collection of Carreras. Another good purpose might be getting classy ladies all excited on a drive to Lake Tahoe or up the coast on Highway 1, and just sort of tickling up on that gas pedal with your big toe at 60 mph, and then faster than you can say “Joe Biden’s your uncle,” you’re at 90 mph with a five inch chubby and not even caring about electric cars because screw Teslas and because classy broads dig the smell of premium unleaded gasoline anyway. Am I right? Or amirite? Yeah, I’m right, bruh.
Ask your Mom.
Make me confident that you’ll store Muad’Dib indoors and wax him monthly and drive him at least a few miles each week to keep his hoses supple and tires glowing and that you’ll never tailgate on the freeway because something self-righteous might come off the back of a Prius and chip the Caladan ocean blue paint and also because if someone in a lesser machine — and if you’re looking at this I don’t have to tell you that’s every other machine out there — is tailgating, and you need to stop quick, there are very few cars on the road that can stop as quickly as Paul Atreides here and when they can’t stop, they’re gonna hunter-seeker him from behind.
Speaking of behinds, Muad’Dib comes with seat warmers for yours on those cooler days when you’re driving around and dropping panties. And speaking of dropping panties, back in 1999, the original version of the Hitachi Magic Wand was engineered to exactly mimic the frequency and vibration a classy lady might feel in the passenger seat of a 993. I don’t know if it was this exact 993 per se, but whatever. True story. Google it.
Also, and in spite of the seat warmers, this car is not for babies or whiners or complainers. This car is mechanically and cosmetically very good, and you must commit to keeping it that way. You also need to internalize that even though this car is a panty dropper — on a side note, I think all the panties have been removed by this point during the detailing, but am not 100% sure — it isn’t all panty-dropper all the time. The Kwisatz Haderach will kill you if you do not respect him. It’s not as prone to oversteer as earlier Carreras but the weight in the back reminds me of that time I saw Kim Kardashian standing up on a too-fast merry-go-round. Be prepared to take a course on how to drive safely if you haven’t already. And never take this car to the track. Ever. If I find out you’ve taken it to the track or modified it from stock, I will shove my absurdly well polished Allen Edmonds oxfords so far up your butt you’ll taste kiwi until you die.
If you’ve gotten this far and your loins are all tingly-warm, Muad’Dib is being sold under consignment by my friend Kevin, who if your options haven’t vested, can help with financing. Just reply to this ad and we’ll set up some time for you to take a look, sniff the seats, listen to it start up, smell the exhaust, and lick the steering wheel or whatever it is you need to do for your testicles descend. If you only smoke cigarettes after sex, I’ll throw in a carton of Parliament Lights. Should last through your first week.
Not My Ad. Not My Car.