Restoring a 356 Porsche is an undertaking that many start, but not everyone follows through to the end. Look at the projects on eBay and in the classifieds. A lot of these cars are disassembled, probably because they look so simple ("just like a VW"), and then there they sit. A good friend of mine purchased a 356 Speedster in the mid-1980s, looked at how it was put together, and thought exactly that: easy. He eagerly disassembled the car, had a lot of bodywork done, and eventually began the reassembly.
That's about when the project ran out of steam: He reached a point where he didn't know what to do next or how to get it done. So he asked me to help him finish the job and offered to split the money when it was completed and sold. It was a friend, so I agreed.
Six months of weekends and late nights later, the Speedster was completedÑand just in time. The market for Speedsters was really heating up by then. We advertised the car toward the upper end of the price range.
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It was beautiful, a gorgeous car done in light blue with a brown interior. As with any recent restoration, the tirekickers and numbers aficionados combed the car for faults and flaws. Some declared that the color combination was incorrect; that it had never been offered. Original photo documentation of the car indicated otherwise, but okay.
After a number of months of being grilled about the authenticity of this or that, my friend decided he'd put up with enough. He took the car off the market and just let it sit in his garage. At that point, I thought I'd never see anything for my work on the car.
Six weeks after the ads expired, my friend got a phone call from a Japanese collector who had come across a copy of the expired newspaper ad and wanted to see the car. My friend was apprehensive about getting started with one more tire kicker or listening to one more half-price offer, but against his better judgment he decided to show the car. The man came and immediately
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said, "This is my car." He never drove it or even started it. He walked around it once, sat in the driver's seat, and lifted the decklid to verify that an engine was actually present; then he agreed to pay full price and left. My friend was amused, but pretty unconvinced that the guy was serious.
About a week later I got a phone call from my friend; he said, "You should come by." When I arrived he recounted the details. Another man, who obviously worked for the Japanese collector, had just arrived on his doorstep unannounced and handed him a brown paper bag full of money; he informed my friend that it was the payment for the car, and every cent was there. Then the man left without the car, any paperwork, or even a receipt. The Porsche was still in the garage.
Weeks went by, and I called my friend daily. "Anything happen? Is it still there?" I told him not to skip town. Five weeks later, a flatbed showed up for the car and the paperwork: unannounced, of course.
- Tony Heyer
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