These Are The Coolest Cars You Actually Got To Ride In As Kids

I wrote this on Oppo years ago, but since my dad is currently in ICU fighting for life, I think it’s ok to repost again in his honor. Hang in there Pops….

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My parents divorced when I was about four. Post-divorce, dad went through cars a lot faster than mom, and his were arguably more interesting and provided an array of “first” car experiences.

Most exotic of this era were a couple of Porsche 914s: an orange 4cyl and a final year (1976) brown 914-6. My memories of the cars are limited and I don’t really remember the orange at all. I can picture the Brown, primarily by its color (Brown was “the” car color of the 70’s). First experiences in the 914: A 2 seater (cars came without back seats?), mid-engine (why did they put it there?), and a car that was unusual and exotic for the time, but kind of ugly too? I believe it may have had a wooden steering wheel (Nardi?) which seemed novel. First experience for “spirited” passenger rides: I remember dad letting loose flying down Ward Parkway in Kansas City toward Meyer Circle (a roundabout that invites tests of lateral g’s and grip; infamous enough that one homeowner on the circle, tired of having cars spin out into their front yard at 1 a.m., erected a stacked stone retaining wall a couple of feet high. I guess some people go to town hall meetings and others just take matters into their own hands).

The 914 seemed to have no trouble negotiating the curves, tires screaming on the asphalt, two young brothers around 5 and 8 years old in the front seat thrown sideways against the door like a Hoffmeister Rotor, whooping and hollering, “faster, faster!” (Ok, maybe not me so much. I mean, it was a little scary, uncertain…and unbuckled). Usually the 914 was good for a couple circumnavigations around the circle before dad decided not to press his luck too far. (what traversing the circle felt like in the 914 to a 5 year old)

Though the physics demo was fun, for a long time I harbored a secret grudge that the only Porsche that has ever been in our family (to date) was the ugliest, lowest power one (with a VW engine, no less). “Why couldn’t you have had a real Porsche?” I silently lamented over the years. In recent years, I’ve been noticing 914s are crossing online auction sites for big money. This 914-6, in particular, almost hit six figures.

I was astounded and had to send the post-auction link to my dad, putting in the body of the message, “Too bad yours wasn’t a six! (not remembering the details of his car). He replied, “It was a 6.” The next time we were talking on the phone, I asked him to regale me again with the story of his 914 ownership (including the forgotten orange one) and how he sold it. He told me that after enjoying the 914-6 for a few years he was ready to move on. He put a classified ad in the KC paper and two people (who he actually already knew) immediately called him to say they were hotly interested. This surprised me the first time I heard the tale, thinking used 914’s weren’t that loved or desirable. How wrong I was. As dad tells it, “I sold it for what I paid for it and could have had a bidding war, but the 2 buyers responding first (from the KC Star classified ad) were both friends and I said first one here with a check gets it. It sold that afternoon.”

Dad continued to have pretty decent autos over the next several years. He really liked his yellow 1980 (or ’81) Buick Electra Park Avenue. Unfortunately, pics don’t represent how luxurious that car felt. I remember the butterscotch leather interior, power windows and locks (up, down, up, down – this was our entertainment kids), dad in his business suits, a carton of Carlton cigarettes a near permanent fixture on the front bench seat (thankfully he quit smoking in the 80’s), and the tasteful looking (but probably fake) wood grain throughout.

The Park Ave had a big sunroof (first sunroof) and dad let us stand up in the front seat, poking our heads and hands into the sky while he drove through the neighborhood. On some occasions, I would sit on his lap or scoot over to the driver’s side while he drove around Kansas City, holding the steering wheel for early driving lesson practice. “Can I steer?” was a frequent plea from my brother and I, and he often obliged us. I’m amazed then and now how much latitude he let us have with the wheel. Unsafe? Of course, but it was good early instruction in lane maintenance, staying away from curbs and cars, and he was always there to take the wheel if our aim was errant.