Sometimes you come upon a bad idea so obvious it’s visible from space. Last night, out on the town with the Peugeot, I did a double take not entirely dissimilar to the scene in Christine where Arnie first sees the decrepit Fury hulk. Parked across the street from a used car dealer, there was an early Porsche 928 in gunmetal brown, covered in evening mist. It looked completely alien sitting on its own, with a quickly written note on the window that yes, it is for sale, here’s the number.
The difference with anything usually left out for sale was that this Porsche seemed exceptionally clean. No clearcoat damage, no rips on the leather, nothing that would immediately point out a history of abuse or deferred maintenance. It wasn’t your usual Craigslist special, one that would best serve a LeMons prospect. How bad could it be?