The job of a photographer is to find a fitting location for the subject. Being from South Carolina and shooting in New Jersey, I had no idea what to expect. After hours of searching Google Maps, I came across what seemed to be a pleasant beachfront property off the Nantuxent Cove.Upon my arrival, the skies were a sinister shade of gray, the roads hadn’t seen a paver in years, and in the distance I spotted a sign that read: “Bay Point Rod and Gun Club: Private Properties – No Trespassing, Violators Will Be Prosecuted.” I felt about as welcome as Foghorn Leghorn at Colonel Sanders’ family reunion.
The atmosphere was tense, the weather gloomy and the car’s owner hadn’t made an appearance yet. Our previous encounters by e-mail were spotty, to say the least. A friend of a friend of a friend had recommended the car, and the only way to contact the owner was via e-mail. Cell phones probably do not exist in his world. Maybe he’s trying to hold on to the ’80s as long as possible?
Surrounded by rods, guns, sand, dark clouds, and the deafening silence of a horror movie, I hear the faint but deep growl of a turbo flat-six clearly audible in the distance. Talk about picking the right location for a daily-driven 935-inspired slantnose! I swear, the clouds got darker as the 930 barreled closer. The entrance would have compelled Mad Max to give a standing ovation.
Mick Cote wedges himself out of the tight rollcage, donning a trucker hat that covers his messy bed hair, five-day stubble, cargo pants, and a long john camo-printed shirt. Just like the car, the owner is equally as mysterious.
“Whaddya think?” asks Mick. It didn’t take but a quick buzz around the car to see this car was something unique: super-wide flares, equally wide 335 tires, a stripped interior, and paint that shows the patina of regular use. Don’t expect to get your best shave using the hood of this beast as a mirror. “You don’t use Q-tips to detail your car, but I don’t care!” I replied. This one Porsche has more personality than 1,000,000 Toyota Priuses. This is what happens when an iconic Porsche gets into the hands of a rebel.
The relationship between Cote and his 1983 930 started in April 2008, when he purchased it in Virginia. Getting your hands on a 1983 “Sonderwunschprogramm” (special order program) 930 slantnose would mean you’re one of 35 lucky owners. Fortunately for die-hard purists, this is a conversion.