This is the Porsche 944, the best iteration of the crappy little 924 that came out in 1977. In the 80s, these were the shit. There was a maroon one driven by a regular at the 7-Eleven where I wasted part of my elongated sophomore year. I saw it up close and personal one night. I was out on my motorcycle, stopped at a stop sign, and the mofo REAR ENDED ME .
Not rear ended like in Tent City jail, or like “Blam, I’m drunk and you’re dead.” Rear ended like “bonk. Oh, I thought you moved. Sorry.” In response, ever the polite and empathetic one, I said, “no worries, but you might want to dump out that beer… Detective.”
So here’s to you, Mr. 944 cop. Thanks for reminding me that you did not make me dead, one summer night.