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Working for my dad during my senior year one fine Saturday afternoon, I was watching his long time client get out of his 928 from our 6th floor window of our shop in Downtown LA's jewelry district. I had just bought my first car, a 1980 Celica GT. So I had to ask and wanted to talk and learn about his 928. I can only think of Risky Business. He promise to give me a ride if I would get out to buy lunch for all of us while my father was setting a big diamond for him. Holy smokes, my skinny ass was thrown around, mostly pinned to the back of the seat. I grabbed a few burgers and walked back to the car. He was outside leaning on his 928. He took the bags out of my hand and handed me the keys. Now my heart skipped a beat and said, " No, I don't want to do anything to harm the car and can't pay for any damages if I got into an accident". He didn't answer me and got into the passenger seat and said," lets go, your father is hungry". What's a boy to do? I don't my father's to go hungry. I drove like a freaking old lady because I was scare sihtless that I would get into an accident. Finally he said, "On the next straight, floor it in second gear. I don't want your dad working on my stuff hungry". I did what I was told and took it up to about 6000rpm. For some reason, when I put the pedal down, it seem so much faster then riding as a passenger. Man, all I can say is "Porsche, there is no substitute!" None of my friends believed me that I drove a 928. Those bastards. Until this day, I am not sure if its an S?
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