Julia and I were not yet married when I was on a ship carrying cargo to Vietnam in August 1970. I was sending money from my pay to our joint bank account so she could start shopping for the necessities of married life, including a car and a place to live.
She found a wonderful apartment on the Hudson in Garnerville, New York, where we lived for a year. I told her she could pick the car, but I wanted a sports car in the $3,000 range. Julia loved to shop and made a deal with a local Porsche dealer to buy the newest Porsche model 914. Unfortunately, we couldn’t afford the 914/6 and settled for the 914/4.
It was a great car, but Julia had never driven a stick shift, and our Porsche had a 5-speed manual transmission. I was initially put off by the color she chose, British Racing Green, but in the end, it was the right choice.
The only issue was teaching Julia to use the 5-speed. I explained that she needed to keep the RPMs between 2,000 and 5,000, with 3,000 being ideal to avoid lugging the engine. I also explained that the car had a synchromesh gearbox, so she could drop down multiple gears if necessary. She did wonderfully, and all was well with the car when I left on my first ship after marriage in January 1971. However, when I returned, I found that shifting the car into first gear when it was not moving was impossible. I had to start the car in 2nd gear and then downshift into 1st gear. On our first trip with Julia driving, I found out why.
We were headed to the Tappan Zee Bridge at 70 mph, and Julia was driving. As we approached the toll booth, she pushed in the clutch and shifted from 5th to 1st gear but held in the clutch. Horrified, I told her she shouldn’t do that as it would damage the transmission. She replied that I had told her it was okay as long as she held in the clutch. Yes, I had said that while showing her how to slow down the car with gearing and not use the brakes, assuming she understood it was only done by downshifting at most 2 gears—not 4. I calmly asked if she heard a whining sound from the gearbox as first gear overrevved despite the clutch being in. Later, I found out that first gear had a small chip in it from Julia’s maneuver. It is a testament to Porsche engineering that the gearbox worked at all after this abuse.
I will share more Porsche stories from our life before children in the future.
Accompanying Poem
In August of '70, on a ship to Vietnam, Julia and I, not yet wed, but love was our plan. Sending money home, for a future so bright, She shopped for our life, with joy and delight.
An apartment she found, on the Hudson’s embrace, In Garnerville, New York, our first living space. A car she would choose, a sports car my plea, In the range of three thousand, a Porsche 914, you see.
Though we couldn’t afford the 914/6, The 914/4 was our perfect fix. British Racing Green, her choice so bold, A color that grew on me, a sight to behold.
Julia learned to drive, a stick shift so new, With a five-speed manual, she managed it too. Keep the RPMs steady, between two and five, Three thousand ideal, to keep the car alive.
Synchromesh gearbox, I explained with care, Drop down the gears, if needed, beware. She drove it with grace, all was well and fine, Until I left for the sea, in January '71.
Upon my return, a problem I found, First gear was stubborn, wouldn’t come around. Starting in second, then down to first, On our first trip, the truth was dispersed.
To the Tappan Zee Bridge, at seventy we sped, Julia at the wheel, my heart filled with dread. At the toll booth, she shifted from fifth to first, Held in the clutch, my fears unrehearsed.
Horrified, I told her, the damage it could bring, She thought it was fine, as long as clutch did not cling. I had shown her to downshift, but only by two, Not four gears at once, the gearbox she slew.
A small chip in first, from her eager hand, Yet Porsche’s engineering, still made it stand. A testament to strength, through trials it bore, More stories to share, from our life before.