Gotcha

Porsche’s new-for-1998 996-generation 911, and new-for-1997 Boxster, came from the factory with a major engine problem: the crankshaft rear main seals failed at an unusually high rate. These little parts simply seal the rear opening in the crankcase. Yet when they dry out, their brittleness hinders their ability to seal, resulting in an oil leak. Fixing it requires removing the transmission. At Porsche dealership costs.

New buyers noticed the problem almost immediately. By May 1997, Porsche issued a directive to dealers delineating repair protocol: remove the old seal and then lubricate a new seal and install it. This worked, most of the time, but using a damaged tool caused damage to the seal itself, and by May 1998, Porsche released a new variant of the tool. By February 2000, Porsche’s M96 engines featured a new RMS. It was again updated in 2005, with yet another new tool. 

Crucially, Turbo and GT-level 911s didn’t have this problem. By using the legendary Hans Mezger-designed crankcases, these special 911s used completely different RMS than the problematic ones in other Porsche 911s. Plus, they weren’t available in the American market until 2003, after Porsche’s redesigned RMS was issued. 

But if you own a 996 911 Turbo today, do you still worry? 

Worry is rarely rational. It isn’t logical, and we know it. When people talk about it, they say things like, “I know it’s silly, but…” or “I know I can’t change my past, but I worry about when I…” or “I know my worrying only leads to more worrying, but still I…” 

Trying to reason through worry can help us make a plan for addressing whatever issue may be causing the worry, but it can’t remove the emotion of our worry. 

Perhaps no one understood this better than David, the writer of many Psalms. In Psalm 55, he describes “anguish” and “terrors of death” because he has been betrayed by a friend, and is surrounded by spies. Logically, he knows that they won’t win. David’s plea is heard by “God, who is enthroned forever,” (v. 19) whose kingship and authority lasts infinitely longer than the temporary power grab taking place in David’s lifetime. These “bloodthirsty and deceitful men will not live out half their days,” (v. 23a) perhaps because attempts at leadership by force don’t usually lead to a long, peaceful rule. 

But, while God’s judgment will come eventually, David’s worry was happening immediately. So it is with this immediacy that David’s worry is absolved:

“But I call to God, and the Lord saves me. Evening, morning and noon I cry out in distress, and he hears my voice.” (v. 16-17) “But as for me, I trust in you.” (v. 23b) Because David knows God is listening to his deepest pain, acting in his righteousness among the people who belong to him, and working in people’s lives to support/reward/sustain that trust, David’s worry begins to recede. 

Even if David didn’t know all these attributes about God, the mere knowledge of God’s benevolence and righteousness could be enough to fight back the worry. Yet David knew those specific attributes of God because of what he saw in his own life. He knew God’s view on lust and deceit from his own escapades (see Psalm 51 and 2 Samuel 11:1-12:25). He knew what leadership values God esteemed because of how David inherited the kingdom when God was displeased with his predecessor, Saul.

The same is true for us. If all we knew of God was “God is love,” worry wouldn’t have a rational leg to stand on. Yet a deeper, visceral knowledge of God’s love for his creation, his intervention throughout history, the rich detail with which he describes our future with him, and the kind of humble and faithful character we ought to emulate to live in the peace he wants for us, all work together in the battleground of our hearts to rout and disperse the worry that lives in our hearts.

Any RMS in any car’s engine, or any seal in general, could fail at any time. Rationally, 996 911 Turbo owners can find peace in nearly two decades of reliable operation from their cars’ RMS and other seals. Yet if the worry lurks in their hearts, the answer should be something felt in the heart – not known in the head.