I see the cold, hard stare of the Taycan’s daytime running lights in the 356’s delicate, oval side mirror and a smile creeps from one side of my face to the other. There may not be much in the way of competition here, but it could be good sport.
Having flicked the spindly indicator wand upwards with my index finger, I squeeze the throttle open and the deep thrum from somewhere over my shoulder intensifies into an angry buzz, as though I’ve just prodded a beehive with a big stick. The Taycan saloon sweeps past in the outer lane. It’s Crayon, naturally; the epitome of contemporary Porsche. Finding a gap, I move out and then across, tucking into the last vestiges of the big four-door’s invisible wake and set after it, the whale and the minnow, line astern…
It is a chase of utmost futility, obviously, and taking place in central London means it’s all over in seconds anyway, but here’s the thing: in that split second, my mind is flooded with a rapid-fire sequence of thoughts. The comparison between young and old, the absolute extremes of the Porsche marque. A genuine realisation that they share much, in ethos at least – both engineering-led vehicles, the Taycan in its own way defining a whole era of motoring, applying Porsche values and standards to the EV segment and creating something few others in that sphere of cars have managed to achieve.
And yet, of course, there are the glaring differences. The Taycan, a triumph of technology over raw physics, of brute power through a source sadly unintelligible and emotionally unappealing to many of us, of the disastrous side effects of so many kilos then reined in brilliantly by impossibly effective brakes and more than half a century of progress in tyre technology. It can do things Porsche engineers of the 1950s could barely have dreamed of. But what of the 356? What can it do?
A DIFFERENT EXPERIENCE
That the 356 isn’t just a beautiful but antiquated car next to the Taycan is perhaps the whole reason for this story. I know it’s like trying to compare a gramophone to streaming music on an iPhone; the comparison is so disparate as to be virtually pointless.
However, there’s much more to driving a 356 in 2025 than simply possessing an appreciation for its stunning beauty and historical significance to the Porsche story. If you’re already an ardent enthusiast of the 356, or perhaps even an owner, then you won’t need me to tell you anything that you don’t already know about what makes them great. But if your idea of a Porsche is a brand-new 718 Cayman or a 991, then here’s why you should consider Porsche’s first car.
I chose those two cars with good reason, because the 356B T6 Super model featured in this story is for sale at the time of writing in June 2025 and it’s coming on the market for between £60,000 and £70,000. The price parity is obvious. As a 356B, it represents possibly the easiest and most affordable route into 356 ownership in a market where values for many 356s have softened notably in recent years.
Of course, us 996 Carrera owners won’t be swapping our cars for one any time soon, but the market inevitably follows an age and eras algorithm of its own and it’s certainly not just the 356 that is affected. As a rule, cars of the 1950s (and, indeed, both earlier and later) don’t appeal to younger people exploring classic motoring, which is why we’ve seen such a marked increase in the values of cars from the 1980s and 1990s. Quite simply, these are the cars that those now embarking on their fourth decade grew up with and that hold special places in their hearts. It’s no wonder that it’s those cars that they once gazed admiringly at from afar are now the ones they want to own.
I have to say I’m no different and, professionally, when it comes to the 356, I confess to having a brief and oddly skewed back catalogue of experiences to draw on. I’ve puttered along in a 356B ‘Normal’ and I’ve driven a genuine four-cam Speedster, with nothing in between.
FINNEGAN’S WHEEL
It’s with all this in mind that I approach Jay Breakwell’s gorgeous 1963 356B Super. Finished in Ivory over a black interior, it was purchased by a Mr William Finnegan on 15 April 1963. Finnegan lived inland from Los Angeles’ Venice Beach and ventured to the Allred Brothers VW-Porsche dealer up in Glendale, California (now New Century Volkswagen – still selling new VWs!), where a salesperson named Don sold him the car, including the option of a factory collection in Stuttgart.
I know all this detail because the car still has its original bill of sale and a wealth of supporting documentation which, if you’re into car history and sleuthing such things, is gold dust. From a base price of $3,490, Finnegan added extras such as a fully electric Golde sunroof (a rather bracing $220), option 9103 chrome wheels, 9313 Blaupunkt Frankfurt radio and 9510 luggage and ski rack, the latter a snip at just $34.40. The paperwork suggests a collection date in Stuttgart of July later that year, but the accompanying service book has a stamp from Autohaus Krauss, a VW dealer in Nürnberg, on 24 June so we can assume that turned out to be a pessimistic prediction. The car was in for its 300-mile inspection.
What a time Finnegan must have had, touring around Europe in his new car. As I gently lower myself into the 356’s small but wonderfully cosy cabin, I try to imagine the long drives on the deserted roads that were so common in the 1960s, the glamorous locations and unspoilt vistas. Did he drop down to Monte Carlo, perhaps? Catch a race at Monza? Le Mans? The Nürburgring? Stop off in Paris? Venture to West Berlin? The mind boggles at the very thought.
Part of what makes this car so special is its history. Jay worked with Finnegan in the early 1980s and, when the car came up for sale after around 25 years in the States, Jay pounced. He’s owned it ever since. It has a highly seductive patina to it that just reeks of authenticity, from the gentle, aged wear in the interior to that inimitable ‘old Porsche’ smell. For a moment, I just sit in the car with my eyes shut and the engine off.
Of course, though, it’s about the drive. Twist the delicate key and the engine catches fairly quickly before settling to an idle that feels almost too low, as though it’ll peter out any moment, although it never does during my time with it.
The first revelation arises when I reach behind my left shoulder for a belt that isn’t there. There is no restraint of any kind in this 356. Porsche offered a seat belt as an option in period, but only around 500 cars were so fitted out from an annual production that had exceeded 11,000 per annum by the time this car was manufactured in Stuttgart in 1950. By the time 356 production ended in 1965 with the C model, a total of 77,361 had left the line.
Anyway, not being strapped in certainly focuses the mind on the task in hand (I think I’d have to retrofit at least something if the car were mine) and, as I’ll discover, that’s appropriate – such involvement is the cornerstone of the whole 356 driving experience.
THE REAL THING
However, before we get onto that, it’s worth reflecting on how the car actually drives. As a T6 B – one of the last Bs built before the final C model appeared – this 356 naturally offers a more modern experience than the early cars. The gearbox was improved for the B and it’s easy enough to use, while the Super spec 1,600cc engine means a roaring 75hp in total. Then again, don’t forget it only weighs just over 900kg or so, and therefore performance is instantly sprightly.
Do I miss real, big-number power? No, not really. It’s so much fun making the most of what you’ve got rather than always trying to reign in the excess you might have, as a recent drive in a 992.2 GTS brings to mind. The 356 also offers around 86lb/ft of torque at 3,700rpm so, relatively speaking, there is some muscle there.
The B model was a very comprehensive upgrade, in true Porsche fashion, but the most obvious change was to the aesthetics, with headlamps mounted higher and a raised bumper. The more you compare one with an earlier 356, the more the differences are apparent. But, while the purists rightly seek out the original ‘look’, I personally really enjoy the slightly more 911-like styling of the B and C models. Just personal taste, of course.
The public first caught a glimpse of the new model when the factory entered a no doubt hard-worked prototype into the Nürburgring 1,000km race in June 1959, but it wasn’t shown officially until the Frankfurt International Motor Show later that year. By the time Jay’s car was built, Porsche were readying the yet-to-be-renamed 901 for its own launch at Frankfurt and, for a brief while, full 911 production ran concurrently with that of the 356 C model.
Everything about driving the 356 is delightfully poised and accurate. As such, you’re soon in sync with it, more of a conductor than merely a driver. Unlike so many old cars, the steering is precise, it doesn’t roll lazily and the ride quality instantly impresses with its general sophistication. It feels like it wants to be driven, whether in daily use or tackling some long road trip into Europe, which is absolutely astounding given its age.
Then again, that was part of what built the 356 legend, with famous advocates of the car and the brand in those early years such as the journalist Denis ‘DSJ’ Jenkinson amassing big mileages in their cars. That sense of real capability and thorough engineering is omnipresent. “What must that have been like when it was new?” I wonder out loud, to no one in particular. It was a markedly cerebral purchase to spend big money on a little, idiosyncratic German car with a small engine when cheaper, more overt and powerful alternatives were available, but you can see why so many did.
It’s this involvement that is the 356’s great appeal to me in 2025. Because you are so engaged with it as a driver, there’s never a dull moment and there’s no quicker way to form that curious bond of man and machine than in a car that requires concentration and real understanding to make it drive well. Even after 10 minutes, KGU 107A and I are firm friends and I find it physically impossible to walk away from it parked without glancing at it affectionately over my shoulder.
As Jay says: “When you fly light aircraft, you are part of the machine; the aircraft becomes part of you, because it is such a personal experience that it has to be part of you. When I get into my 356, the car becomes part of me.” I know exactly what he means, which is partly why that elusive ‘bond’ is always easier to find in a lightweight sports car with a small footprint.
The ‘infotainment’ in the car might only extend to a radio set that needs to warm up before it can be used, but it really doesn’t matter. It’s anathema to even consider sending a voice note, streaming podcasts or any of the multitude of functions we’re bombarded with in new cars, because you can’t afford to break your concentration with the machine. At best, you’ll drive it sloppily. At worst, you’ll miss a potentially hazardous situation as it begins to develop, with possibly disastrous consequences in turn.
At the same time, it’s that sense of focus that’s so refreshing, so invigorating. This isn’t just transportation; it’s the actual task of operating a machine and driving. We read so much today about how the younger generation isn’t interested in cars or driving itself but, with the bland character of modern cars and the constant push towards more and more autonomous functions, is it any wonder?
My time with Jay’s 356 is nearly up. The Taycan is long gone and, although the dual carriageway out of London stretches tantalisingly ahead, I indicate left, pull off down the slip road and enjoy a couple of slick, blipped down-changes that elicit a smug grin before looping back at the roundabout. I want to get out on the open road, to put some proper miles under the wheels, to have an adventure. In an increasingly fake and sterile world brought on through the march of digitisation, driving a 356 is an escape into something fully formed, three-dimensional and authentic.
It makes the simple task of getting from A to B endlessly engaging and vivid. It’s not just the foundation of Porsche, but the essence of it. Far from being yesterday’s experience, it’s more relevant – and required – than ever. Even if you can’t catch a Taycan in one...
This feature was written by Adam Towler and first appeared in the July 2025 issue of our monthly Club magazine, Porsche Post. Join today to receive your copy, as well as enjoying a host of exclusive member benefits and savings.