As the Ferrari project started to stabilize, I found myself back where every dangerous idea begins.
Scrolling Facebook Marketplace.
I had never been a Porsche guy.
But they were everywhere now. Rising. Respected. Mythical.
It felt like time to understand it for myself.
Then I saw it.
$22,000.
The cheapest 997 I had ever seen.
And the seller knew it.
When I went to look at it, reality hit fast.
Aftermarket fiberglass GT3 body kit.
Built for a wide body, mounted to a narrow body.
Cracked. Sagging. Barely hanging on.
The interior was hammered.
Cheap respray.
And the seller casually avoided mentioning it had been rented for track use.
I walked away.
But I couldn’t forget it.
Maybe it was the Carmona Red.
Maybe it was the challenge.
Maybe it was knowing a perfect car wouldn’t tell the same story.
I even looked at some beautiful 997 Turbos.
But deep down I knew something uncomfortable:
Buying a clean car might impress people.
Saving a disaster would mean something.
So I went back.
When I arrived, it had gotten worse.
The bumper was practically falling off.
I should have walked away again.
Instead, I brought it home.
The buyer’s remorse hit immediately.
My wife looked at it and saw exactly what it was.
A mess.
But I saw something else.
Freedom.
I could do anything to this car and it would only improve.
I started with what mattered.
The rear shock mounts were completely stripped — banging on the top hats every time you drove it.
Fix that.
Then I went inside.
The interior plan was ambitious.
I wanted to transform the tired dove gray into something inspired by the cognac and Pepita look from Porsche’s heritage cars.
I dyed it.
Wrong.
Too thick.
Ran out.
Looked terrible.
So I stripped it and did it again.
And when it came together, I couldn’t believe it.
For the first time, the vision in my head was becoming real.
Then came the exterior.
I tracked down the original factory bumper and decklid — someone had bought them from the previous owner and listed them online.
A miracle.
I found a Carrera S front bumper.
And that’s when the story flipped.
Through TikTok, I connected with PainterBam, who offered to help bring it back to life.
We worked in a rented booth.
No glamour.
No shortcuts.
And somewhere in that process, the joke became the headline:
Instead of converting a Carrera into a GT3…
we were turning a fake GT3 back into a Carrera.
People loved it.
The series exploded.
We added Avant Garde Wheels and suddenly the whole thing made sense.
What had arrived as a neglected, confused, beaten car now looked intentional. Honest. Complete.
It became my most successful build.
Not because it was expensive.
Because it was redeemed.