I was sound asleep during my first Porsche experience.
I was a newborn, and my parents tucked me into a baby carrier in the tiny back seat of their Porsche 911 SC to bring me home from the hospital. Back then, they could never have anticipated where I’d be today and how my sleepy first ride home would forever alter my life trajectory.
Today, I am wide awake and running on the adrenaline that comes with nervous excitement. I’m in Stuttgart, Germany, where Porsche was founded over 75 years ago and where it’s still headquartered today. The brand is celebrating 50 years of Turbo this year, with that single word representing its drive to innovate unlike any other.
While the badge first appeared on the 911 in 1974, it’s now come to signify the top designation for every model in the Porsche lineup. That first car — the 930 series, as it's known internally – borrowed technology and innovations developed for motorsports applications, ushering in a new era of performance and giving car enthusiasts something new to dream about.
I’ve been one of those enthusiasts for as long as I can remember. My love for Porsche runs deep. The Porsche 911 – especially the Turbo – was the car I idolized growing up. I’d go to auto shows with my dad just to get 911 Turbo posters for my bedroom. As my dad appreciated the 911s on display, I looked up admiringly at him, unconsciously registering that this was something to aspire to, and if I had one someday, my parents would be proud of me.
Like many other children of Chinese immigrants, chasing my parents’ approval is a defining part of our relationship. We don’t show love to each other through words or hugs; we show love through acts of service, and I show love by trying to validate that all the sacrifices they made for me paid off.
For myself and many others, this typically manifests as an unrelenting ambition for success. In my mind, a 911 is synonymous with success, so as I slide into a 1998 Porsche 911 Turbo S, one of many Turbo models I worshipped as a kid, my adrenaline is, well, twin-turbocharged. I’ve always wanted a Turbo because I knew it was the best – the ultimate symbol of success.
While this 993-generation Turbo S I’m driving in Stuttgart is more than a decade newer than my parents’ 911, I’m reminded of all the stories they told me about their Super Carrera.
“It was one of my favourite cars,” my mom tells me. “It just said, 'Don’t mess with me.’”
She wants to make sure I know it was her idea to put a whale tail on their 911.
My dad loves reminiscing about their 911. We don’t have too many deep conversations, so I always relish every word when we’re talking about cars.
“I love the way it’s designed, and it’s kind of like a dream – you have to own one in your lifetime,” he says, cementing that feeling I’ve always had. “It was a dream come true for me to own it, but I worked hard for it.
“Driving one was quite a challenge, that’s why I liked it so much. You almost need three feet to drive it.”
The 993 Turbo S was everything they warned me about. The clutch and brakes are stiff and articulate in a completely alien way. This was the first time a six-speed manual transmission was used in a 911, but the throws are precise and slide into their gates with a satisfying action.
I’ve always been warned that old 911s can be monsters if you’re not careful, but a then-new rear suspension and the addition of standard all-wheel drive helped civilize this 993, making it a bit easier for me to enjoy this iconic car while also preserving its existence. As one of the rarest and most desirable Porsches ever built, this particular one I’m driving is part of the brand’s museum collection, which makes my time with it even more thrilling.
The 1998 Porsche 911 Turbo S – one of just 336 made and from the final air-cooled generation – is a demanding car to drive and requires finesse, focus, and patience, but once you get it, the experience is magic. It sings to you. You hear the turbos hissing, you can feel the road intimately through the skinny, leather-wrapped steering wheel, and you’re proud of yourself for finally nailing the perfect shift before heading into a corner and then rocketing out of it with explosive speed. It reminds you that anything that’s too easy isn’t rewarding. This car is a challenge to drive, just like my dad said it would be, but that’s exactly what makes it so enjoyable.
With my mom’s vintage 35-mm film camera in tow, the same one she used to capture us growing up in the ‘90s, I set out to recreate one of the only known photos of my dad and his 911. We are close in age in his photo, and he’s leaning against his 911 SC in Toronto, right by the CN Tower.
During my time in Porsche’s hometown, we were able to access a 911 SC RS in a secret warehouse that stores some of the brand’s massive collection. I can’t help but tear up as the 911 is pushed into place so I can recreate my dad’s photo. My dad also had a 924 back in the day, and as part of Porsche’s 50 years of Turbo celebrations, I was also able to drive a similar 944, with which we could recreate yet another essential photo of my dad and one of his past Porsches. Showing my parents these photos side by side, I see that they are both beaming.
I’m waiting for my dad to say something profound about being proud of me or whatever, but he rarely goes there. He just wants to talk about Porsches. I think I’m finally OK with that.
“It’s kind of like you’re rewinding time,” he says smiling, looking at the photos. “My own daughter following in my footsteps. We have something in common.”
I realize now that I’ve been chasing success for their approval, but that’s not really what they care about. Like everyone else, my parents are just seeking connections. Sure, they’re happy for me that I had a chance to drive a dream car, but being from a family that doesn’t really hug or show much emotion, I think they’re just happy that we can always rely on cars – Porsches especially – to bring us together.
I just hope they’ve noticed that achieving my dreams isn’t just indicative of my own success, but theirs as well. But now that I’ve experienced an old 911 and have something else to bring me closer to my parents, I’m equally at peace as I was during our fateful first drive home together.
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