The orange Targa got sold back to the dealership after the valve job, and a 1972 Silver Coupe was ordered. Remember the 1972? - It was the only year to have the right rear quarter oil filler hatch, like a second gas cap.

At this point in life, James was fascinated by sports car racing - and convinced that a non-sunroof coupe with some factory suspension options was the way to go (for weight & center of gravity reasons). I puzzled over the 911E or 911S versions (they were not much more expensive than the T at the time) but finally settled on the T version because of low-end torque reasons. Options included larger front & rear antiroll bars, 7x15" Fuchs alloys, Koni shocks, and Pirelli 185 sized tires.

I immediately set about learning to drive autocross on my own in various abandoned lots. Two things immediately became apparant...first, I had not really learned to drive anywhere near the limits in either the 1969 Targa nor the 1967 Corvair Monza. About all the experience I had in a four wheel drift or lifting the throttle in a high-speed turn was whatever happened when a snow day had come along. I had once dry-spun the Corvair in a moment of madness but that was more a hanging on experience than a learning experience.

Second, this was a much sharper handling car than the hydropneumatic Targa...probably due to the shocks and rear bar. You could induce oversteer anytime you wanted, dry pavement or not. Snap or "bootleg" 180 degree spins could be done at will with the powerful hand brake. It had a perfectly adequate 130 mph top speed (which was duly tested) and proved to be perfectly reliable (unlike the Weber carbs & cold plugs I had before). A shameful series of street-racing episodes followed, along with constant suspension adjustments, lowering of car, tire replacements, tire rebalancing, brake pads, etc. In one incredibly sad incident, a brand new set of Michelin XWX radials had to be mechanically shaved about 50 thousands of an inch because they had been foolishly flat-spotted to the point that they were undrivable. I was able to rationalize this wastage by thinking that many racers did this too - usually to deliberately reduce tread depth though, not because they could not modulate their front brakes.

Somehow, about 30,000 miles were passed in this manner - safely, too. And, unbelievably, without gathering a single traffic violation. Honest Abe.

The end came suddenly through adolescent brain slippage. Denise had by now been replaced by Gwen (future wife), the local district attorney had offered me (unbelievably) only $500 less than I had paid for it new, and I wanted to have at least one Corvette before I grew up and started a real domestic life (or got sent to Vietnam)...

 

Good stuff! Real car enthusiast.