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I had worked in Norway before, in Oslo, and one of the Brits there had bought a car tax-free. It had been a good experience for him, and, as luck would have it, I bumped into him in Stavanger. We started talking about cars and I got the address for the car dealer (in Denmark) from him.

I started thinking about what sort of car I wanted, as they could deliver any make, and asked prices for everything from a Mini to a Saab. Now, I'd always fancied a Porsche 924, one of the most beautiful cars in the world to my eye. In a moment of frivolity I asked if they could supply, and how much it would cost. The price was very reasonable, so I phoned up the bank. "I'd like a loan to buy a Porsche" I said, expecting the 10th degree. "No problem," says they, "how much do you want?" Wait a minute, it's not supposed to be this easy! Anyway, I became the proud owner of a Porsche 924, in Gemini Grau...

This was a terrific car. After the previous ones it felt like it was on rails. The only problem was that as it was bought abroad it was a left hand drive, which I quickly got used to. After keeping it out of the country for 12 months I imported it into the UK (registration A153 JRS), tax free, saving about 3,000GBP. I later switched to a personal registration plate in 1985, and it became 1455 MD.

A couple of stories. When I was working at Sellafield (in England) before I got married, I used to come up to Grangemouth every weekend to see the love of my life, Catherine. On the A80 (dual carriageway), just outside Cumbernauld, there's a sharp corner, and in the miles coming up to it I'd been behind this Vauxhall Cavalier, full of young lads, hogging the outside lane, doing about 80-90 (limit 70). They'd been shouting and pointing, finding it amusing that they'd been holding up a Porsche, the way young lads do. Anyway, on arriving at the corner they pull inside and hit the brakes. I hit the accelerator and passed them doing about 100-110. Their jaws just dropped as I pulled past them so effortlessly, and they certainly weren't laughing.

Another time I was heading up to Banff from Fraserburgh, late, as usual, so I was pressing on a bit. Nearing Banff, there's a really nasty left-hander, that tightens as it goes. I hadn't been on that road in some time, and had forgotten about that corner. I go into it far too quickly, and just hauled the wheel around. And around, and around. The car is leaning quite a bit, but doesn't deviate an inch from where I point it. I was talking to Grodo later, and asked him the max speed he'd go into it. He's also into cars (and had a Ford Fiesta XR2 at that point) and he reckoned 50, maybe 55 as the max safe speed. I reckon I must have been doing 75-80, and he just shook his head.

A final story. It was the night of our banquet in Newburgh, about 1985. We stayed in a hall overnight, and got up in the morning to find there had been about a 6inch snowfall. Once we had tidied up we tried to go on our way. We had to push start an Alfa Romeo; we coaxed a Ford Sierra into life, and from that jump started a Talbot Horizon; we had to call the AA rescue services out for the brand new Renault 5. The Porsche? Started first turn of the key. Ahh, quality German engineering!

I kept that car right up until we left for the US. At that point it had covered about 230,000 miles in its 14 years, and had begun to require a lot of work to keep it going. It was a sad moment to part with it, but it had to be done. Even worse was having to drive past it in Falkirk, knowing I couldn't drive it again. Still, at least I know it went to someone who'll look after it, and I hope he has as much fun with it as I did.

Latest update : When the in-laws were across on vacation they told me that it was still going around the Falkirk area, or seen parked at the house of the guy I sold it to. Good deal!