BRG and the Five Speed Brown Bag

BRG and the Five Speed Brown Bag

The longest single trip I made by sports car was from Gainesville, Florida to Kansas City and back in my second Austin Healey Sprite. Though my move from Miami to Las Vegas was longer, I was driving a rental truck containing “all my worldly goods” and Marcia drove the sports car, so I can't really count that adventure.

The first Sprite, as chronicled elsewhere (From A Blue Condor to Sports Cars...Part II), as usual with my luck, needed a fair amount of work. I returned it to the dealer I had bought it from for service, and dad came along to give me a ride home as it would take a couple of days to complete the work. I was standing around with my hands in my pocket...pretty glum after getting the estimate...trying to ignore the lovely new MGB and Mark III Sprite on the showroom floor and not even daring to look at the Austin Healey 3000.

Dad had a brilliant suggestion:

“Instead of spending that much fixing your car, why not buy a new one?” He asked.

I looked at him like he had sprouted horns. I had glanced at the window sticker on this green beauty, and it totaled something just short of $2000...might have had two more zeros in terms of how likely I was to come up with that. Heck, I was still struggling to figure out where I was going to get $400 to repair the “Grey Ghost” Mark II.

The new model was indeed lovely. It now had a slightly revised engine which was not only more powerful, but also was more durable. The Mark II late version Spridget had a 1098cc motor with a three main bearing crankshaft. The bearing journals measured something like 1 7/8” in diameter. But the Mark III increased the journal size to, best as I recall from memory as I am too lazy to look it up, 2”. The important thing is that this was significantly more metal and more bearing surface.

The car had much better creature comforts as well...better padded seats, and top retention at the top of the windshield that looked like it as least had a chance of staying fastened at highway speeds, unlike the “press the dot” retainers of the Mark II. Best of all it had actual windup windows.

Now, in those days, purists would turn up their noses and sniff at any car with such softness, claiming that real sports cars had side curtains. My answer was always “the you are welcome to drown using them in Florida's “liquid sunshine.” This was a place where it could, on any given day, rain at a rate of an inch an hour. Side curtains were simply a sluice, not a protection.

“Dad,” I patiently said, thinking I needed to draw attention to some facts of life his aging and addled brain had clearly forgotten, “I can't afford the $400 repair bill, so where would I ever conceive of coming up with another $1600 for the new car?”

“Who said anything about you?” He inquired. It seemed that, having achieved a perfect 4.0 GPA the prior term in college, I had finally achieved some milestone of pride for him, and he was offering to step in and buy the car for me.

Wow! Sheer heaven. A great little car, and my first new one. I was all of about 20. And floating on a cloud. 

Civilized but Still Fun

In the photo I have “improved” the aggressiveness of this little snarler by removing the grill and bumpers, and adding both Lucas “Flamethrower” driving lights and PL700 headlights (illegal in Florida at the time, BTW, even though they were much better than any approved standard US lights). Behind the Sprite is my roommate's 64 Corvette and the trailer for his motorcycle...stories for yet another day.

I had not had the car long before my 8^th grade girlfriend invited me to visit her in Kansas City. “They got some crazy little women there...” and at that time she was one of them. Candy had visited me in Gainesville right after my fiancée broke off our engagement. It rekindled our friendship but there was not that much of a romantic spark. But she left for KC and challenged me to “step outside the box” and visit. So I did, but she was involved in what hinted at some sort of manage a trois that was not even ready to think about, no less be around. The best part of the visit was riding in her new “partner's Morgan...weird as a Triumph powered wood framed car with inflatable “Whoopie Cushion” seats and metal dash that was so thin if you pushed on it it would “oil can” could be.

The trip out and back had a number of events that are only memorable for me...but one that totally freaked me out. I had stopped at a little cafe in Mississippi for lunch one day. I had parked where I could see the car from my seat at the counter...and noticed some sort of Police vehicle had stopped with his vehicle blocking me. The officer who stepped out of it looked sort of like the Sheriff in the old “Dukes of Hazard” TV show.

So “Boss Hogg” came in and asked who owned that “little furrin” car out there...his accent was thick enough to cut with a knife. I decided I'd better not play games with him and acknowledged that it was mine. At the time I was working part time as a DJ at a local Gainesville station, and in place of a front license plate, which Florida does not use, there was a radio station plate with “Gainesville, FL” and the station call letters...as well as a “Press Credential” pass in the lower corner of the windscreen.

I don't remember how long my hair was, but it was long enough to stand out among the other customers. The cop looked me over with evident disgust.

“You ain't from these parts, is you?”

“No sir.”

“Just passin' through?”

“Yessir...on my way to Kansas City.”

“Reporter?”
“Not really, just a DJ.”

“Well, we've had some issues with furrin reporters herebouts.”

He then exited and sat in his car, waiting for me to finish my meal. I decided to try and not show my discomfort, and managed to choke down enough of the food to quell my hunger and look finished, though it tasted like cardboard at that point.

He did not move his car until I was seated, belted in, and engine running. And then followed me to the next legal jurisdiction line, though I no longer remember whether that was the county or state border. I actually did not calm down until I left the state.

I kept the Sprite for many years...unusual for a car whose build quality could best be called “barely adequate.” I taught my first wife to drive in it, and even when I left Grad School and we needed a second car we kept it and it became hers. I'll never forget her telling me that, one day in Athens while stuffing her very long mini-skirted legs into it some “Southern Gentleman” yelled something at her that , only after returning to our apartment, did she realize was the epithet “HIPPIE!”

But by 1970 we really did need a second car, as our only other vehicle was my X6 Suzuki motorcycle. I somehow convinced myself I needed to be “mature” and purchased a Datsun 510 wagon:

Cute but Useless

It was kind of cute and looked practical, particularly since I envisioned its storage capacity as a plus and was thinking we could even sleep in it with the seats folded down on camping trips.

What a piece of junk. Within the 12 months we had it every single trim screw had rusted, the transmission was replaced under warranty, and so was the differential. When I traded it in I actually had to pay to get rid of it as I owed more on it than it was worth. So much for the myth of superior Japanese quality control.

In late 1969 or early 1970 the car magazines began reviewing the new “budget Porsche...” the 914 model. Available with either a 125hp Porsche 6 or a more pedestrian 85hp 4, either version, unlike the 911 and the 912 it replaced, was mid rather than rear engined, and had a five speed, electronic fuel injection,four wheel disc brakes, removable hardtop, built in crash bar for rollover protection, and two usable trunks...one of which allowing stowage of the top without sacrificing the use of the trunk!

At the time only true exotics at three or four times the cost could match it in features...names like Lamborghini, Ferrari, or Aston Martin, and none of them had all the items I just mentioned.

While the six was obviously more exciting there was no way in hell I could afford the $6500 price...even the $3600 entry level four was going to be a push...but though the press panned the four as well as the looks, even photographing the car at a low angle with the popup headlight pods open to make it look at awkward as possible (there has NEVER been a car with popups which looks good with the headlights raised)...I loved everything about it including the design...and it had those seven magic letters gracing the engine deck lid, something I thought I would never see on any car I would own.

In fact, I loved it so much I have kept it for 46 years and recently brought it back to life after many neglected years of deterioration and poorly done accident repairs. And interestingly enough, the design has stood the test of time and is beginning to attract the attention for the landmark it really was. I was true to what it deserved, and it is as original as possible. Only the side shift transaxle from a six and the removal of the ugly “hockey puck” lights on the front fenders the US required to certify the car for sale, and the correct aftermarket and rare Pedrini wheels and front lower air dam deviate from 100% 1970 "as purchased" originality. Fixing the fuel injection was challenging, but I refused to take what appeared to be the easy way out and junk the FI to install carbs. The Bosch system was the first mass market electronic (actually electro-mechanical) system in the world, and was widely used by VW, Mercedes, Volvo, and Ford, as well as other Porsches. The car deserved no less. 

The dealer did not even have one in stock for me to look at or drive. All I had for three months was a brochure that I taped to the wall of my cubicle at work...one I still have, along with the original invoice for the car.

My name finally came to the top of the waiting list. I had ordered bright blue paint with a tan interior which, over the full eight year production run would have been a rare bird indeed. White cars were virtually unavailable. But when the salesman called he said he had three cars.

“One of them is white, with the appearance group” he said ( a $200 upgrade).

“Yes,” I replied.

“One of them is white, with the appearance group” he repeated.

Pause

“Tom, what are you saying?”

“One of them...”

The only difference between the cars was the brand of tires and one did not have a radio.

Great...now I have to somehow find someone to lend me $200. Fortunately a friend at work came through, and I went to pick up my car on July 9, 1970...with its upgraded chrome bumpers, fog lights, and vinyl-trimmed crash bar. But over the years I have become very glad the car does have those upgrades as I think they add to the appearance, and the fog lights are at least marginally beneficial.

What I got was one of the very earliest 914s...in fact one of the first in the state. To this day when knowledgable experts hear the serial number and that I am the only owner of the car it generates a surprised acknowledgement of respect.

 Back then I used to keep the car under a car cover both at our rented apartment, which had no garage, or at work, whose parking was likewise exposed. Florida sun is not kind to car interiors. My first project manager, Larry Duggan, took one look at the car under this tan canvas, and dubbed it the “five speed brown bag.”

The Five Speed Brown Bag
As it looks today...very much as it did in July of 1970