My Grandpa Meyer was a farmer. He tilled 160 acres of flat-black and raised 6 kids. All of them had a good deal of spin on the ball. Half of them left town to go to college, and came back once or twice a year if they could summon up the gumption. They were too urbane for the hick-town, and were sometimes (when their guard was down) ready to point out how small-minded those of us who stayed really were. Professors and diesel mechanics sharing a reunion every couple of summers. Good times.
Dad came from a family of 16 kids. His father was a Serbian immigrant who cut meat and started a supermarket in Akron, Ohio in the '30s. Dad's brothers and sisters were all crazy successful, but only three of them went to school. The overarching characteristic of all of them was their toughness and dogged determination. They all possessed a sense of destiny-- that failure really wasn't an option. For them, it really wasn't.
Dad was a plumber, who was skilled enough in all trades to build a dozen or so homes (including mine) with minimal/no help. He doesn't suffer fools kindly. Mom finished 3 years at ISU before she chucked it to marry Dad, but none of the rest of us went to college. We worked. We lived in Mom's hometown, which meant we were the part of the family who decided to be losers. We didn't care, we were too busy busting it and building things.
So it's easy for a blue-collar guy like me to lump buyers of classic cars neatly into "the stereotype". You know the caricature: educated, but worthless at anything outside of his speciality. Mechanically inept. Stuck-up. Afraid to drive their car because it might get a rock-chip or bug-splatter. More concerned with looking good than being good.
... and then you meet a guy like Anand.
He may be one of the smartest dudes I've ever met. He's a neonatal ICU doc-- he works with tiny little babies, helping them make it through some ridiculous situations. My grandsons were in NICU for 12 weeks, so I know the pressure this guy works under. He's unrelentingly kind and generous. He just loves air-cooled cars-- talking to him, you get the vibe that he's just as excited about a plastic clown-car as he is about his 99 point, original, low-mile, numbers' matching Porsche Speedster. It's just different strains of the same illness. He can afford cool stuff, so he buys it. That's really the primary difference.
With the "professor uncles" on my Mom's side, I always get the feeling that they are looking down on the rest of us, even though we have had more successful lives by pretty much any metric. We're the rubes who went nowhere. With my Dad's family, I stopped going to reunions because I figured it'd be quicker and easier to just mail in a copy of my 1040 and save the time.
Anand's not that guy. He'll drive the car, and probably let people with no business driving a half-million dollar machine (guys like me) take a spin as well. I can easily see him taking out the numbers-matching 1500 lump, sealing it up for reinstallation at some later date, and dropping in a Pat Downs 2332-- you know, just for the fun of it.
If ever there was a guy who should own an original speedster, it's this guy. Anand is the man.