By Andrew Court
Val is four months old, and he’s already at his first Porsche event.
Das Ren Treffen, or “The Race Meet” in German, isn’t the natural habitat for an infant. The event, one of the largest Porsche meet-ups in the United States, takes over a semi-vacant South Miami mall every winter. Air-cooled flat sixes crank up, and RWB Japanese-built 911s hug the pavement. Ruf and other aftermarket suppliers have stalls in abandoned storefronts. Big guns hog center stage: Carrera GTs, Slantnose turbos, Safari 911s.
The little guy’s eyes dart around as he’s pushed in his German stroller. It’s hard to know what he can see, and what sounds mean to him. His eyes move, locking onto bright colors. Even as a baby, he seems to like people. I pick him up to have a look around and he gives a big laugh and social smile. The Latina’s handing out t-shirts swoon.
The event was founded by Alvaro Rodriguez de Vera in 2015, a local Porsche aficionado and curator. The first year saw more than 150 Porsches displayed, drawing almost 10,000 spectators. There was a curated atmosphere with live music and a variety of judged classes for the vehicles.
From the start, it was more inclusive than other events like Luftgekühlt, which concentrated solely on air-cooled models. If you don’t know much about Porches, here is the summary: They evolved from VW bugs to become rear-engined air-cooled hand-made sports cars popular with the most hardcore of enthusiasts. Steve McQueen and James Dean drove them. The company tried a few variations but primarily stuck to its guns with the 911.
By the late 90s, this way of doing business had reached its technical limits and was not financially successful. The Stuttgart automaker decided a shake-up was necessary and committed the sacrilege of making the 911 water-cooled. It also started mass-producing vehicles. Even an SUV followed.
The company is now one of the most profitable automotive giants in the world, but, at the time, enthusiasts were not pleased. As a middle schooler, I was so upset I did a school report on the subject.
DRT makes an effort to include all Porsche devotees, I even saw a few Cayenne overland builds. I may have sought these out because I am in the market for a “family” Porsche. There are YouTubers out there convinced a 911 can be a family car, but I’m not sold.
We walked the show and I met up with a few cool-guy friends. I was nervous to bring the little gentleman, but I had forgotten he’s a charmer. Val smiled, joining the crew. One guy surprised me, saying he had a couple teenage sons. People like kids more than you think.
Over the years the DRT has expanded. Now it lasts almost a week and includes a track day at Homestead-Miami Speedway and a VIP opening night. Previously I’ve gone to the VIP night, swirled bourbon and talked about the esoteric minutiae of being a Porsche fan.
I don’t own one at the moment but my father was a big Porsche guy. He passed away in 2009 and some of my best memories are blasting around hilly Ohio in his 911 convertible. We went to watch the Porsche Club races at Mid Ohio, and we traveled to California to see the Monterey Historics.
When I turned 16 I went out and bought a really decrepit four-cylinder front-engined 964. These are the least-wanted Porsches and mine was particularly unloved. To put it another way, it broke down a lot.
I thought it was fucking awesome.
Pushing the stroller it was getting hot and the little guy had filled his diaper. What was I hoping to achieve? Maybe I wanted to recapture some of the magic I had with my father. We bonded over cars and I think Val and I can do the same. Maybe I was just being selfish, inflicting a loud and uncomfortable experience on a little baby.
The excellence of the DRT event makes me think more of the former than the latter. The event strikes the right chord between cool and family. I wasn’t alone, lots of strollers prowled between the Porsches. Val might have been on the little side, but as they say “Start’em young!”
