Since I was a teenager, I’ve been fascinated by the Porsche 944. It’s not the most iconic Porsche — far from it. It didn’t have the sleek lines of the 911 or the racing pedigree of the 917. But it had a certain charm, a sense of practicality and performance wrapped into a package that was different from its siblings. It wasn’t about being the fastest, loudest, or most glamorous. It was about balance.
The poster on my wall was not a 911, but a 944 Turbo.
I never had posters of the 911 growing up. The 944 Turbo (or 951 as the Porsche codeheads call it) grabbed my attention because it felt attainable but still undeniably Porsche. Guards Red, of course. Wide fender flares and pop-up headlights made it look aggressive, yet the car had a more subdued personality than the flashy Ferraris or Lamborghinis of the 80s.
But life moved on. College came, and cars became more about reliability and cost-efficiency than about the dream machines from posters. I always kept the 944 in the back of my mind, though, a car I’d pick up one day. One day turned into decades.
Finding the right 944
Five years ago, I started seriously looking for a 944 Turbo. I wanted the real deal—an ‘86 or later with the Turbo, but not so mint that I’d be afraid to drive it. There were a lot of high-mileage ones out there, neglected over time, and I didn’t want to fall into the trap of chasing endless repairs. Finally, I found one—1988 Porsche 944 Turbo S in Stone Gray Metallic with Linen interior. The car had been lovingly maintained by its previous owner, with just over 100,000 miles on the clock. It wasn’t perfect, but that was part of the appeal. I could drive it, enjoy it, and still have room to tinker and improve.
Why I didn’t buy a 911
Don’t get me wrong. The 911 is a wonderful car, and I get why people go for it. But there’s something rebellious about the 944. It was Porsche’s attempt to break free from the rear-engine mold, to experiment with balance and handling. For me, that always felt a little more interesting than just another 911. The 944 has a perfect 50/50 weight distribution, with its front-engine, rear-transaxle setup. It feels planted, and on twisty roads, it’s nothing short of addictive. It’s not the car that screams “look at me,” but for those who know, it’s a nod to something different.
The other reason I didn’t go for the 911 is simple: price. When you look at the escalating costs of even air-cooled 911s, the 944 Turbo is an absolute steal for the performance it offers. It’s more under-the-radar, which fits me perfectly.
The driving experience: precision, not brute force
The 944 Turbo S was a revelation the first time I drove it. It’s not about massive horsepower—around 250 in stock form—but how the car delivers it. You feel connected to the road in a way that few modern cars allow. The turbo lag is part of the fun: you floor it, and for a second, nothing happens. Then the boost kicks in, and it feels like the car is surging forward, effortlessly catching up with whatever’s in front of it.
What makes the 944 special, though, is the balance. It’s not just about speed—it’s about how it corners, how you can feel every input through the wheel and pedals. It’s not over-assisted like newer cars. You feel the weight transfer, and the car responds to your smallest adjustments. It’s a car that rewards skill and attention, not brute force.
Yes, it’s practical too.
I’m a sucker for practical sports cars, and the 944 fits that bill perfectly. Unlike the 911, which has minimal luggage space and isn’t exactly family-friendly, the 944 has a hatchback. I’ve taken it on long weekend trips, and with the rear seats folded down, you’d be amazed at what you can fit back there. I remember one trip, hauling a few bags of groceries and my weekend gear with ease. Try that in a 911 without looking like you’re moving out of your apartment.
Living with a vintage Porsche
Owning a vintage Porsche isn’t all sunshine and smooth tarmac, of course. The 944’s parts aren’t as common as the 911, and every once in a while, I’m faced with a long wait for something as trivial as a gasket. The good news? The 944 is relatively easy to work on yourself, and with some patience and the right tools, you can tackle a lot of jobs in your own garage. It’s not the kind of car that requires a specialized shop for every little thing, like a Ferrari or even some modern Porsches.
That said, there are quirks. The pop-up headlights are charming but prone to failure after 30-plus years. The old electronics occasionally act up, and I’ve had my fair share of “character-building” moments waiting for a replacement sensor or relay. But for me, that’s all part of the experience. These are the kinds of challenges that make owning a vintage car more of a journey, not just a transaction.
The 944 in the age of modern Porsches
Looking at Porsche’s modern lineup, the 944 almost feels like a secret. While everyone’s obsessing over the latest 911 or Taycan, the 944 offers an analog driving experience that’s becoming rarer by the day. There’s no digital interface here, no screens to distract you. It’s just you, the wheel, and the road.
Would I ever trade it in for something newer? Maybe a 718 Cayman at some point, but honestly, I think I’ll always keep a space in my garage for the 944. It’s the kind of car that doesn’t have to shout to be noticed. It’s part of the Porsche family but stands a bit apart. And that’s exactly what I love about it.
In a world full of 911s, I’m glad I found my way back to the 944.
