Thinking About a Beck Spyder...

[gruen911]

What do the rest of you guys think about a Beck Spyder? Anyone have one, driven one, want one? I know it's a kit car, but seems like they could be a fun for not much money?
I have seen in numerous places that they are pretty well built replicars. Never owned one, but have been playing with the idea.

[Paul Schooley]

I've been eyeballing the Beck 904 kit car with a 2.7L/915 in it....

[pwd72s]

How tall are you? I've seen them at various events, and agree that they seem to be a well made kit car, and look like a very fun toy. Alas, I'm 6'3", 240, would NEVER fit. I'd say guys 5'10" or less will have a ball in one...

[gruen911]

PWD,
That was one of my biggest considerations. I am 6'2" 180lbs. Could be very snug in there. Anyone tall ever been in one who can confirm that its too small for us vertically challenged guys?

[elbean]

I too am thinking of same thing. I read, if you have one built for you they can move the firewall back a couple if inches for people over 6'. In my case i need blocks of wood on the pedals(5'7") good luck and keep us informed.

[tom dance]

I've got a 550 spyder replica for sale. Very nice shape, silver. $17,900. I'm 6' tall and fit in it just fine. The leg room is plenty. If you like the arms out steering you could always move the wheel back a bit, but it's not bad. Very similar to a early 911, at least as far as fit goes. If anyones interested give me a shout, its in the garage and my new RS rep has to sit outside. Ah jeeze.
Tom
email; scylla66@yahoo.com

[LongRanger]

. . . What do the rest of you guys think about a Beck Spyder? Anyone . . . driven one, want one? I know it's a kit car, but seems like they could be a fun . . . . playing with the idea . . .

I vividly remember my one-and-only drive in a Beck Spyder

Musta been the early ‘80s --- still in college + dead-broke. Twiddling thru the Sunday L.A. Times classifieds, I’d seen an ad for a Beck for sale, out in The Valley. I thought about blowing the gas money on a movie --- but I’d read about/followed Chuck Beck’s exploits over the years, and thought . . . hey! --- why not?

So? --- gave a call, asked if the car was still available? ---- yup! . . . then jumped in + fired-up the Old Plymouth + drove on out. Warmish + hazy/smoggy day, not much traffic, but still took me an hour to find the place, trusty/well-thumbed Thomas Guide on my lap

‘Dealership’ was a converted gas station, sitting out on the edge of a sprawling mid-50s-built sub-division, out in Van Nuys, somewhere. I think. Not a big business --- but still, 40-some cars jammed-in to this not-so-big lot. Pulled up, parked at the curb-side . . . didn’t see the Beck

Got out, walked up, could see a Sales Guy through glass, sitting in a chair in the station’s office. And as I came up past those first few cars . . . . .

Glowing. A sickly orange-tinged red, kinda ghastly, actually --- clean enough, I suppose . . . but not exactly ready for Pebble. OK, never

And tiny . . . like, at-my-knees kinda . . .

Introduced myself --- I’m the Guy that called + etc . . . so Sales Guy nods, stands up, shakes my hand + we walk out/over to the car . . . . + hands me the keys

Hmm

Notta lotta car. I’m ~6’4’’ and I’m just towering over this thing. No kidding --- thing barely comes up to my knee-caps. I jack-knife myself over, fumble ‘round inside the door, pop the release --- and I do mean pop --- touch the inside pull + boink . . . thing may’ve been made of FG but it was tight as a drum, and about as big --- smooth finish, a little dull, maybe, tight shut-lines, w/ firm + slick door pull. I remember the seat looked lumpy + rumply, and the cockpit was a little dusty inside, but . . . good enough for a Test Drive

Getting in, almost had to stand on the seat, then negotiate/stagger-over this big bulkhead thingy that wrapped around the inside of the car, trying to get my size-twelves out under the dash + knees behind this old-fashioned kinda kooky-big steering wheel, but once in the seat . . . car fit me, fine --- like a SCUBA suit

Steering wheel in my chest, knees bent comfortably, shifter a swing-of-the-wrist away --- I look up/right/back at the Sales Guy . . . who has taken a (few?) GIANT steps back

Glance at the key, find/feel the throttle + brake + clutch, select . . . shifter is this kooky Gene Berg T-handle thingy, maybe 5 mm’s-worth of travel, in any direction --- more toggle-switch than anything w/ linkage . . . then? . . . key the starter

Rrr-RRrrr-RRR-wwwwOOOOMB-ba-ba-dah-ba-ba-dah-ba-ba-dah . . . . etc

Didn’t know what the heck was going on out back, under that lid --- but what ever was growling/prowling around back there sounded like it was in the middle of digesting some of the engine ancillaries, so --- unless I wanted to wait for this digestive process to complete? . . . . better get going

Toggle reverse

Clutch was, like, 5 mm of travel, too. Wumpf! Dead. Embarrassed, re-key ---- rrR-wwWOMB, re-select . . . tippy-toe back-up

Car had a ridiculous ‘stinger-type’ exhaust . . . don’t/won’t call it a muffler. The only noise suppression it proffered was to move the racket out someplace ‘back yonder’

Sales Guy is no where . . . prolly inside. Under his desk. Or behind a blast wall

Toggle 1st

The drive down + out feels like looking down a frickin’ Olympic Ski-jump --- old sub-division streets + multiple re-paves = heavily crowned. And so as soon as I so-much-as-tickle the clutch, the Beck darts out for the street. I brace for impact . . . . nothing

Big dip taken @ some speed --- and not a creak or squawk or rattle anywhere (. . . not that I could hear it, anyway) --- totally soaked-up. Car didn’t just feel solid . . . .

. . . more like muscular-elastic

And fantastic

There’s a tach, but the gearing is so suicidally low + the engine so d@mned hyper-active that the whole power-train spins to red in about a half-a-second . . .

Toggle 2nd

OK --- the racket in back seems to’ve subsided, some . . . or maybe it’s just being drowned-out out by all the wind noise washing over me. No top + 6-inches of clear plastic for something --- not wind protection, that’s for sure. Barely touching the gas. NO idea how fast I’m going --- I’m skating along, 2 inches off/over a suburban residential street, no traffic/reference points . . . accelerating smartly . . . no, make that stupidly ---- hopefully out of ear-shot of Sales Guy. Speedo? . . .

It’s really all I can do to hang on

Stop sign coming up --- fast. Pretty over-whelming, inside, small --- feel like I’m sticking out, too far. Car feels totally un-stressed --- kinda unnerving . . . but I’m still trying to adjust to the pace-vs-ease of operation curve --- uh . . . they don’t match up. At all. Just looking at the brakes? --- she stops . . . . smoothly/effortlessly/immediately

Engine seems to have settled down (to a tiger-fight), so ---- toggle 1st, let out the clutch . . . now, this time? . . . . give it some gas

Even on what look like bicycle tires, the Beck just blasts off. Acceleration? More like de-materilization . . . was here . . . now there --- poof! Toggle 2nd + toggle 3rd = warp speeds . . . . inch-wide expansion joints merrily punching at the tires, car’s trajectory + composure totally/utterly un-affected. Reflexively, or defensively maybe . . . I put my head down

Speed? No idea

Noise? Can’t hear

I sling around a corner, head out onto a larger feeder road, engine boiling + car coasting. Motorcycle comes along, pulls up, drifts alongside. Don’t look over. Kawi GPz 550

OK . . . I’m done. Game over

[LongRanger]

Stop light

Hear him goose the throttle. Watch for the light, see the red for cross-traffic ---- wait for the green, pause my breath . . .

Poof

OK --- I was expecting to get snuffed but . . . didn’t happen that way. In fact? . . . not even close. And it sounded like he was almost half-ways trying, too

Coupla blocks later . . . next light

This time --- Kawi-Guy’s all over it. Leans forward, over the bars, both feet down, throttle zinging

Fine

I bring up 2000 RpM --- easy, easy --- motor spins hysterically. . . . and all the controls --- throttle, steering, shifter . . . are feather light + short travel, any way. Not work. Heart’s pumping, and I tell myself . . . . relax

Green = go. Kawi-Guy whips his motor, and I can hear him wind it – wind it – wind it . . . . but behind me. ‘Cause the Beck is gone . . . no drama + sense of weight transfer + no tires burning --- or even slipping. All scoot

Next light, Kawi-Guy is gone

Now I turn again, head back, into the sub-division . . . start pushing the car. I have time to actually set-up for/drive thru some corners. Beck feels dead-neutral. Steering was smooth + firm + dampened, but sensitive . . . . palm pressure would twitch the nose. And no lean in the corners --- zero. I have no idea what kinda suspension was under that car or who set it up, but the thing was super well-planted, supple, w/ quick + easy turn-in. Tail’s controlled by throttle: Want more tail? Give more throttle. Huge fun

At one point, I remember just rocketing past this Guy working in his front yard. I saw him --- maybe a half-a-block off, at the apex of a corner, standing on his lawn ---- so I buzz in, not-too-hot but committed, this ghastly tomato-colored hockey-puck-of-a-car, passing/flying by him, a foot away from the curb, tail WAY out . . . and him looking ---- DOWN on us . . . as we shot past

. . . the look on that face

Too much fun. By that point, I figured that I’d better get back before somebody called the cops, so I dialed it back, headed in the direction of the dealership, very low-key. At this one point, I’d rolled-up on this big sedan, sitting/waiting at a traffic light. I could see the Lady behind the wheel, staring at her rear-view . . . at me, trying to be inconspicuous

So, the light changes . . . but she’s still staring at her rear-view, at me --- and it occurs to me that, since I’d rolled-up on her so fast, and the Beck’s so low, that she’d probably never seen the car, at all, and now? . . . all she can probably see? . . . . is my head, poking out over the top of her trunk. I waited a coupla seconds, hoping she’d snap out of it, but she’s totally transfixed, so? . . . . I looked for the horn --- you know . . . just a tap

Big button on the dash. ‘Horn’ (Shoulda known)

I hit it

Turns out --- there were four Maserati air-horns under the front hood --- no room, even for a spare. They go off . . . and Sedan Lady lifts so far out of her seat, her bouffant bends over hitting the head-liner. So much for ‘inconspicuous’

So I blatt/zoom back to the Dealer, vault up the drive, then tip-toe back to a parking spot, in front of the office, key off the motor. Whew! --- what a relief . . . to have that psycho motor finally quiet . . . although it didn’t seem so loud, by then. I could see in the store glass that my hair's standing pretty-much straight up. Discrete pat-down of my do, then we pop the rear clam-shell, to reveal? --- full-boat/monster Type IV . . . jet-fighter fan, dual Dell’Ortos (lunch-box size), powder-coated tin + headers, even had a chromed (!) alternator . . . hanging on by a thread, turns out. An easy 200 HP’s-worth, looked like

Walked around the front, took the trunk cover off (?). eye-balled the four air-horns, noticed a small metal plaque, riveted to the floor, above the should-be-a-spare-but’s-now-for-horns well . . .

'0015'

Told the Sales Guy . . . ‘gotta think about it’


Never forgot it

[yale]

Damn R. Have you thought about writing noir detective fiction?!

[uptheorg]

No affiliation, but a well-built replica on the Bird that has been there since August:

http://forums.pelicanparts.com/porsc...6-tribute.html