Most cars lead a mundane existence, barely noticed accessories to our lives. We drive them to the supermarket and the malls. If they are lucky, and the kids put away their bikes and skateboards, they might get parked in the garage once in a while. Classic-car tours flip this paradigm on its head. We just returned from the Oregon Region of the Porsche Club of America’s NW Passage. This was its 27th annual running, overseen by a committee headed by Jeff Gretz and Heinz Holzapfel. SCM has been a sponsor from the very first. For five days, four nights and 1,300 […]
Most cars lead a mundane existence, barely noticed accessories to our lives. We drive them to the supermarket and the malls. If they are lucky, and the kids put away their bikes and skateboards, they might get parked in the garage once in a while.
Classic-car tours flip this paradigm on its head.
We just returned from the Oregon Region of the Porsche Club of America’s NW Passage. This was its 27th annual running, overseen by a committee headed by Jeff Gretz and Heinz Holzapfel. SCM has been a sponsor from the very first.
For five days, four nights and 1,300 miles, cars were not afterthoughts — they were our only thoughts.
Were they full of fuel? Do we need to add octane booster? Are the tire pressures correct? Where is the route book? Are we going with the first group or the second? Shall we keep up with the pack or just go solo?
For this brief period, our lives were entirely consumed by the cars. It’s not often that we get to focus on our cars and the experiences they can deliver for us.
Meet Team SCM
This was the first tour that my 17-year-old son Bradley would be driving in behind the wheel of his own car. He brought along his friend Logan as navigator.
Team SCM had the two oldest cars entered in the event, with me in our 1971 Jaguar E-type V12 coupe and the teenagers in our 1975 Porsche 911S. There were 40 cars entered; the majority were late-model 911s, with a couple of more-recent Ferraris.
This meant that while most of the pack were letting their electronic dashboards keep them up to date, we were fully occupied watching white needles on black backgrounds displaying water and oil temperatures. As we passed the 4,000-foot level in the Cascade Range, we stopped to adjust the idle mixture on the Jag’s four Stromberg carbs — no computer to manage that for us.
The Jag and 911 are contrasting classics that couldn’t be more different. It’s remarkable that they were produced just a few years apart. About the only things the two have in common is their seating layout and yellow color.
While there’s no question the Jag is an old car, it’s also a very good one. I have driven it on three SCM 1000 tours already, enjoying its adequate brakes, supple refurbished suspension and — of course — 272 horses on tap. A bonus for me is that my high-tech lithium-ion mobility scooter folds up and fits in the rear.
This was our first time with the 911 on a multi-day tour. Unusually, it has a 3-speed Sportomatic transmission, which means I can drive it. It’s been an unexpected delight.
Working for it
On a stretch of Oregon Route 62, I drove one of the most rewarding expanses of undulating roads in my life. I had switched into the 911 and the sensation felt like I had gotten behind the wheel of a go-kart.
My friend commented that the car “made you work for everything you got out of it.” But what you got was pure classic 1970s sports car.
On the same road, Bradley managed to cook the brakes on the Jaguar, but after a roadside repair he was on the way again.
He noted that as soon as he opened the bonnet on the Jag, he was surrounded by men who wanted to help. They also wanted to be sure their wives took pictures of them “fixing the Jag.”
Young kid, old car
Bradley was youngest driver on the tour, yet he was behind the wheel of the oldest 911. He noted the limitations of the Porsche and its oversteer-prone layout, but said he didn’t feel like this took away from his fun. “With the lack of power steering and non-power brakes,” he said, “I truly felt connected to the road at all times.”
The hub of the tour was the Running Y Resort in southern Oregon. I’ve stayed there on car tours plenty of times, and my favorite moments remain those spent around the big fire pit, sipping a fine Oregon pinot noir, recalling the best moments of the day.
Even better this time was when the two teenagers joined us and became part of the animated evening conversations.
“How did you keep up with me on those skinny tires?” was a common question from drivers of modern Porsches with tires so wide they looked like they met in the middle of the car.
Shrink to fit
This was the ultimate father-son bonding experience, made better because Bradley was driving his own classic car. He got to experience what happens when the car goes from being an accessory to a necessity.
“Driving on the Northwest Passage, where these cars are pushed to their limit and are really hustling, was amazing,” he said. “People aren’t afraid to get their cars a little dirty as they shift through gears, collecting bugs on the way.”
A classic-car tour is like spending time in an isolation chamber, where everything about our day-to-day lives is eliminated. All that matters are the gas and brake pedals, the steering wheel and your gauges.
After all, when you are really driving, aren’t those the only things you care about? ♥