A technical writer in the best sense, Bruce was extremely particular about his text. He always asked to see the edited version before it went to print, and for good reason: An error insertion could put a reader on the road to a mechanical failure, or worse. Bruce genuinely cared about helping his readers and brought them quite a gift: an uncanny ability to make complex subjects understandable to anyone. Combined with his experience and contacts gained from decades spent working on everyday Porsches, concours cars (he won Pebble Beach with his own 356), and 935s at Le Mans, his gift made him an irreplaceable treasure to the worldwide Porsche community.
When I started with Excellence in 1997, Bruce was the first to invite me to lunch. The 90-minute drive to his Sunnyvale home became a semi-regular affair, and he made the trip worthwhile. We’d visit the shop of 911 engine guru Jerry Woods, then walk across the street to check out a collection that included a 917/30, 934, 935, 924 GTR, 962 and more. Bruce certainly knew his Silicon Valley restaurants, usually choosing incongruously expensive establishments in strip malls next to laundromats and movie rental shops. I still remember their crisp white cloth napkins, the good food, and something else he gave me on those days: a deeper appreciation for the engineering and design of Porsche.
I feel blessed to be among those who got to work with Bruce, and to have gotten to know him in the process. I remember him as a lover of music, wine, food, cats, and, above all, Stephanie. In the end, I got the sense that his fight was for Stephanie alone, but it was yet another gift—another lesson—for the rest of us. More than anything, I’ll miss his voice on the phone. Despite the depth and breadth of his experience, he always sounded young and whimsical. He had a soft laugh, but also a frank assessment of life. It was clear that he enjoyed his while sharing much with many.
I met Bruce for the first time in 1994 at the Lake Placid Porsche Parade, and we became fast friends. We met at just about every Parade and even connected at Daytona. Despite the only occasional meets and greets, we were immediately back up to speed and chatting Porsche, racing, politics (he from the right, me from the left). My fondest memory was at the Mont Tremblanc Parade. We both had walked for hours in the summer heat and were a sweaty mess as we headed back to get ready for the banquet. We ran into each other as we walked to our tables, both in our finest duds. Bruce laughed and said, “You clean up pretty good!” A compliment I treasure to this day.
Had he personally performed the PPI, I have no doubt Bruce would have counselled me not to buy my 911 SC. Through ownership of said money-pit, though, I came to relish every word of expertise, wisdom and humor flowing from his keyboard in the intervening years, rendering the dubious experience all the more rewarding.