Three years ago, my super depressed and questionably-intentioned arse traded what was until then, my dream classic “not a 911" Porsche that could be describe as “mint-condition” for a comparatively forlorn and abandoned-looking 924 that hadn’t run or been driven in over 10 years and with no solid diagnosis as to why.
Three years of hard work, guts, creativity, highs and lows, and pure bread stubbornness that crawled outta those lows, it’s my greatest triumph. If someone had told me I’d own a Porsche Turbo before 25, I’d have asked them “in what world, what 911, and how”.
And yet, here I am, and I’m very happy. So, ask away if ya want!