1 13. For the superstitious, it’s not a number that suggests good luck. Neither does “Porsche” plus “Spyder” plus “Central California.” Even so, thirteen 2011 Box­ster Spyders have been flown into the Golden State from Ger­many. We see the location of the press launch as lucky: It’s two hours from home and, even better, it offers superb sports-car roads we know intimately. Twelve of the German-spec Spy­ders are in Carmel Valley, the other is at the L.A. Auto Show. That Porsche sees this as an important debut is clear, as Super­visory Board Member Klaus Bern­ing is present. Car people seem to agree; the Spyder gets a rousing reception in the City of Angels. Apparently, the world could use a little blue sky just now, and a back-to-basics Porsche less concerned with sheltering its occupants than opening the world to them is on target. Even the hardcore approve. GT2 and GT3 web forums are raving about a Box­ster in 10+page threads. It’s not idle chatter: A friend of mine has sold his 997 GT3, trading it on a Spyder. Another, with 997 GT3 RS and 993 keepers, passed on his dealer’s first 2010 RS for its first Spyder. Clearly, Porsche has a struck a nerve. In truth, says David Pryor, PCNA’s Vice President for Mar­keting, the Spyder’s timing is pure luck. It got its start in 2007, when U.S. product planning asked for a stripped-down Box­ster S and Cayman S. The former got the nod, and became the car you see here. Given the new Spy­der’s instant popularity in L.A., we suspect that a similar Cay­man is on the way. But it will be hard-pressed to match the soft-top Spy­der’s 176-pound weight savings. Question is, can the Spyder be much better than the already superb Box­ster S it’s based on? Or is it a marketing ploy, a car to generate foot traffic in dealerships? First press photos had us thinking the latter. The tent-like top. The humpy decklid. No radio, no A/C, no foglights, and no cupholders — for more money, not less. Then other, promising details came clear: aluminum doors and lids, limited-slip diff, ultralight 19-inch wheels, -20-mm sport suspension, and lightweight bucket seats, all standard. Best of all, 176 fewer pounds are pushed by 10 more horses, for a total of 320. But still. That top! Then we see the car in Carmel. Silver Box­sters may be a bit boring these days, but the silver Spyder in front of Ben Pon’s Bernar­dus Lodge isn’t. Arctic Silver makes the Spyder look metal where white leaves it looking a bit plasticky. Standing next to it, viewing the car as you normally would, its trunklid is a stunner. The alloy humps tie things together, subtly mirroring the diffuser while giving the fussy lower curves of the 987-2’s dip-down taillights more to work with than fender tops alone. The humps elevate the Boxster. Por­sche people see shades of Carrera GT. People on the street aren’t quite sure what they’re looking at, but they know it’s something special. Had the too-long trunk text been shortened to “Spy­der,” they’d probably still be guessing. There’s something exotic about this 987, moving it away from the mental slot marked “just another Boxster” and closer to the one reserved for “Spider, 360/F430.” The distinction continues up front. The bumper is the same, but its outer intakes get titanium-colored surrounds and one vane instead of two. Cayman LED strips sit in plain housings. There are no foglights, and plain black spoiler lips harden the nose. Down the sides, 1960s Por­sche scripts lead the eye to plain mesh intakes with titanium-colored surrounds. <!-- page break --> Inside, folding sport bucket seats trim weight. Fabric-loop door releases from the GT3 RS recall those in RSs 964 and 993. Their fabric matches the seatbelts (red or black depending on interior color), their plastic housings mounted by a single exposed screw. They look a bit cheap, but so did the Fiat pulls that Porsche’s Sport Purposes department used in the 1970s. A gimmick? No. Engineers say each shaves 2.2 pounds in a good spot. The gauges still wear too-cute Boxster fonts, but their faces are all-business black rather than silver and their hood is gone. In place of the missing cupholder’s multi-piece door is a plastic strip that, like the other dash trim strips, is body color. The center console between the seats is, too, and the plastic doorsill finishers have been re­placed by model name stickers. The top says it all, though. To all who see the Spyder, be they car nuts or tree huggers or both, it screams “minimalist!” and backs it up by weighing 12 pounds. Inside, a stamped-steel claw fastens a carbon-fiber front top bow that’s nice but not overly polished. The two-piece top stows over the engine, fitting in a black styrofoam receptacle accessed by opening the huge, one-piece decklid. No gas struts help you lift the latter, and you prop it up with an aluminum stick, RS-style. The lid is only heavy if you discount its size, and swings on decidedly unproduction-like aluminum hinges under the humps. Any nagging thoughts that the Spyder is a parts-bin exercise fade as I speak to Maurice van de Weerd. Fairly new to Por­sche, he’s the suspension man be­hind VW’s brilliant Mk. V GTI, a car hailed as the return of the proper GTI. One would suspect he had more fun starting with a mid-engined car. He’s quick to say that he had help from another Weissach engineer — one he considers a friend and one who works on GT2s and GT3s. The Spyder sits 20 mm lower than a Boxster S and 10 mm lower than a PASM-equipped one — but not on mere lowering springs with mildly increased rates. “Compared to the standard Boxster S, we increased the stiffness front and rear,” says van de Weerd. “In front, by ten percent and in the rear by 30 percent. We changed the spring balance significantly, so we have different body motions. The front anti-roll bar is a little stiffer, the rear is the same.” So were the dampers simply retuned to match the new spring rates? “No, it’s more than that,” he says. “The philosophy behind the damper tuning is new and that’s due to the extreme focus on driving fun and performance aspects. And because the car is lighter with lighter wheels, we had more freedom to find another compromise between comfort and the performance side — it helped me as a chassis guy to fulfill this compromise. We changed the damper forces quite significantly, reducing the rebound side and increasing the compression.” Since the Spyder is lighter, the revised spring rates are effectively even higher. Van de Weerd says no bushings were changed, but camber settings have been altered. Asked why electronically variable PASM dampers aren’t available, he gives two reasons: “First, we wanted to make more of a purist’s car, one without, as much as possible, electronics. So it was decided to get the maximum puristic performance and fun-to-drive with conventional dampers. Then, if you look at overall production, it doesn’t make sense to make an optional suspension available. The amount of cars is just too low.” Low and light suits us. Leav­ing sleepy, one-story downtown Car­mel Valley, the Spyder’s rear end is a bit bouncy as it rolls over mild bumps at 25 mph. It’s never brittle, though. There are no sharp shocks; each imperfection’s edge is edited into something you no­tice rather than something you’re annoyed by. <!-- page break --> The road out of town leads right then left, feeding into more rights and lefts as it trades buildings for mysterious driveways and, eventually, raw California. The 3.4-liter flat six is a match for the Cayman S’s 320-hp unit thanks to electronic tuning. The ten horses over a Box­ster S isn’t noticeable, but the exhaust note from the optional sport exhaust is. When engaged, there’s more than enough noise from the twin tips. Still, we’re left wishing for more intake noise — like the original Box­ster 2.5’s howl as it passed 5000 rpm. In thrust, this 3.4 doesn’t disappoint. Peak torque of 273 lb-ft arrives at 4750 rpm, with 200 lb-ft available by 2000 rpm. Second-gear grunt off turns is strong, the shove of torque giving way to the elastic pull of horsepower as the 3.4 hits 6000 rpm and sprints for its redline at 7500. After a shift to third, speed keeps piling on. This is a genuinely fast car, one that’s deeply satisfying to use on a back road with the six-speed manual. The latter has you feeling connected in a car you want to be connected to. 176 pounds lighter? It feels like the engineers shaved even more. The weight saved, lower roll center, and sport suspension add up to a sharpness no factory Box­ster can match. In fact, the clarity of this chassis’ signals are at least a match for the best we’ve experienced in any road-going Por­sche. Everything feels connected. Small inputs to the steering wheel or pedals are noted and translated to the tires. Under­steer has been all but eliminated. The car turns in quickly, its rear end feeling ready to rotate in a confidence-inspiring way rather than a scary one. Soon, it’s one of those drives where car, driver, and road meld. Movements in­side the cockpit are minute as pavement, pasture, and sky stream. As the Spy­der decimates the sinuous blacktop, I wonder: Do you really need more sports car? That’s because the Spyder is serving up the best drive I’ve had in a new Porsche in years. “Who needs a 911?!?” shouts my passenger suddenly, as if he hears me. While I know no mid-engined car can offer the experience of a rear-engined one, we’re clearly thinking along similar lines. As first tastes go, it’s as good as a Porsche press launch gets. After another hour or two, it’s time to return the Spyder. Reluctantly. We’re feeling lucky as we head for home. All 13 Spyders must go back to Europe, but PCNA’s Dave Engelman has asked if we might make use of one for a few days. After all, the cars are in our neighborhood… One of the silver Spyders that caused us to catch our breath in Carmel arrives not long after, this one with standard brakes. Under darkening skies, we hatch a plan: Weigh the car, drive it to a dinner two hours away, test it on track, and run it on our Secret Test Loop, where we have tested every new Porsche since 1997. <!-- page break --> The Spyder rolls onto S Car Go Rac­ing’s scales in nearby San Rafael with a full tank of gas. Loaded with A/C ($1,760), PCM ($3,110), Carrera Red full leather ($3,895), and the sport exhaust ($2,500), it weighs in at 2,958 pounds with its 12-pound top on board. That’s 147 higher than the 2,811 listed on the spec sheet, 29 less than the listed weight of a Boxster S. While we suspect options account for at least half of the difference, it’s the first new Porsche under 3,000 pounds since the 986 (the last one we weighed, a 1999 car, came in at 2,917 with half a tank). Meanwhile, gray skies are shaping up nicely. As we roll off the scales, a cold December day turns rainy. More luck: It’s a perfect chance to test the two-piece top in real weather. Since Mrs. Stout has no idea she’s about to partake in the test, I decide to check things out in light rain before committing her to a 200-mile soaking. On the recon run, sealing at the windshield proves every bit as good as in a normal Boxster. More surprising is the way water streams along the side windows. Rather than spraying in where the top covers but doesn’t seal against each pane’s upper edge, the stream traces the upper arc but stays an inch below it and dribbles down the trailing edge. Clever. In heavier rain that night, a few drops quiver on small plastic trim plates behind each door while pin-prick drops dust the roll-bar trims. But not one drop hits us in strong, steady rain at speeds of up to 90, or in Midwest-like rain hard enough to slow us to 45 mph. There are caveats. The top must be put on perfectly. During after-dinner demonstrations of this Erector Set — with practice, it takes us 1:35 to stow it, 2:30 to erect it — a friend wants to help. When we leave, rain gets in. On my better half. Noth­ing looks amiss, but redoing the top in a gas station fixes the problem. With the top installed correctly, there’s a bit more wind-noise than in a standard Box­ster — but you can still hold a normal conversation. The only draft comes if you reach a hand up to the top of the Spyder’s squat side windows. Solu­tion: Don’t. Four other notes: 1) To avoid stretching the top, a maximum of 125 mph with it up is suggested — and it isn’t pleasant past 100; 2) Top down, with windblocker in place, airflow management is superb; 3) That small rear window is just fine; 4) Overall, the top is good enough that we’d consider a Spyder as a daily car. Yes, its single layer is vulnerable to slashers and you can stick a finger in above the side windows if you try — but we suspect few passersby will spot these vulnerabilities. Enough with the top, though. A one-day break in the rain happens to coincide with a Hooked on Driving track day at Laguna Seca. I buy a lottery ticket, then load up the Spyder and Project Cayman S. While I’ll leave all-out lap times to local SCCA champ David Ray (see sidebar), I spend a couple of sessions in each 987. My takeaways? The Cay­man S feels more appropriate, more focused on track, mostly due to its closed cockpit. That and its dual-clutch PDK gearbox encourage me to drive it harder. Even so, the Spyder is the sharper car, with noticeably less understeer and purer responses from its lower, non-PASM suspension. As for differences in torsional rigidity, they simply don’t stand out on track. But, on rougher sections of our Secret Test Loop, they do. Moving between Spyder and Cayman S, the latter has a noticeably stiffer frame. That said, any lack of rigidity is only brought to light by the Cayman; on its own, the Spyder’s platform feels fine. More importantly, its suspension works better here. While the Cayman’s 18s and PASM filter out more, the Spyder is supple enough while delivering superior feedback, predictability, and turn-in. <!-- page break --> Along the Loop’s endless switchbacks, the open 987 comes into its own. Its transient re­sponses are quicker than any I’ve experienced in a factory street car. It has a directness every sports car aspires to but few achieve. For trackwork, the Cay­man S is still the 987 to have. On the Loop, we prefer the Spy­der. For $300 less, you get more desirable pieces in a car that, as a sum, feels noticeably more special. Is it a match for the latest greats, GT2 and GT3? As an experience, yes. While its 3.4-liter 9A1 six doesn’t feel or sound exotic enough to justify a GT badge, the rest of this 987 is cut from the same cloth. Yet it is different: Where price alone renders the six-figure GT3 and GT2 rare, the Spy­der is and always will be separated by that which defines it: its minimalist top. In time, that top won us over. For the interaction in using it. For making you feel like you’re getting away with something in the rain. For the way it looks when it’s up. And for the way it will discourage those with a lesser commitment to the one thing that makes a sports car truly great: purity. Is the Spyder perfect? Not quite. We’d like a lustier flat six — and the car is so sharp it left us wishing for things to further sharpen the experience, like more in­take noise, a light flywheel, shorter shift throws, and ceramic-composite brakes. The latter can be had for $8,150, but don’t order them to save weight; the much-larger-in-this-case PCCBs shave just 6.6 pounds. Fortunately, the standard car is superb and recalls the greatest Porsche in more than merely visual terms. Like the Carrera GT, it manages that rare feat of being an open car without feeling like a soft choice. Like the C-GT, its handling defines just how good a mid-engine road car can be — but this time at a far more affordable, far more approachable level. It’s a Por­sche for drivers, big skies, and the senses. But for its merely great flat six, it’s a full display of Weis­sach’s genius. Yes, the Spyder is insanely good, but the fact that it is Porsche’s best new car on the Loop in years isn’t dumb luck. The best driver’s Porsche in years? 2010-02-11T19:39:29-08:00 Porsche hits a nerve with its lightest, most focused sports car in a decade false 2011 Porsche Spyder rain/track/loop-tested 24 182 spyder-sense 2011 Boxster Spyder 52 1 Full Test true 2010-03-10T12:53:14-08:00

4 A blur of purple with swooping green curves. A flash of Gulf Blue, fringed with orange. Wait! Is that Salzburg Red? If you squint hard enough, you’d swear those are the curves of 917s, it’s June 1970, and you’re at Le Mans. But covering your ears is necessary to maintain the illusion, because those sure aren’t 4.5- and 4.9-liter flat twelves wailing by. They’re 3.4-liter flat sixes, the curves belong to 987s, the date is October 2009, and you’re in Savannah, Georgia. Running in conjunction with HSR this weekend, the Cayman Interseries is in the midst of its second event, ramping up for a full-season of racing in 2010. HSR? Doesn’t that stand for Historic Sportscar Racing? Well...yeah. And isn’t a Cayman among the current Porsche lineup, not to mention, a car Porsche AG doesn’t race? Well...yeah. “They’re obviously not historic Por­sche race cars,” admits competitor Neil Gehani readily. “But they do embrace Porsche’s deep racing history.” After all, every Cayman eligible to compete in the series sports a historic Porsche racing livery: Hippie Car, Gulf-Wyer, Rothmans, Hawaiian Tropic, Löwenbräu... While they might not fully adhere to the spirit of HSR, watching the cars circulate the 2.6-mile Hutchinson Island track, it’s hard to deny that the idea is a pretty cool one. The series is the brainchild of Ron Barnaba, General Manager of Napleton Porsche in Chicago. Barnaba cut his teeth with his own Porsche race shop before moving to Brumos Porsche for nearly a decade, so he was immersed in all levels of Porsche motorsport from the beginning. When he moved to Napleton seven years ago, he brought that dedication to racing with him. Soon, he put one-day and two-day driver education programs into place for Napleton customers. In 2008, he started a Masters Program, an extended school for graduates of the one- and two-day programs. “You spend a lot of time in the classroom and a lot of time driving on the track with pro drivers,” comments Gehani. “It’s then that you really start understanding the physics behind driving cars.” For these events, Barnaba utilized Autobahn Country Club near Chicago. He cast a wider gaze, as well — offering Mas­ters graduates an opportunity to learn at some of the country’s best tracks: Wat­kins Glen, Road Atlanta, Sebring, Road America... For several years, Barnaba had considered a cost-conscious, single-model, amateur racing series. Then one car in the 2009 Porsche model lineup crystallized his thought process. “With the up­dates to the Cayman S, I knew we had the car to build a series.” Oiling issues, power-steering issues, and ABS issues were all addressed in the Cayman’s first significant update. As Barnaba points out, “The new engine has five separate oil pumps, the power-steering pump is cooled differently and has rerouted lines, and there’s a new Siemans ABS system. Those were the three big­gest problems people were complaining about, and Porsche fixed them all.” Bar­naba placed a call to longtime friend and HSR competition director Ken Fengler, 21 Cayman Ss were ordered, and the Cay­man Interseries was born. <!-- page break --> The crew at Napleton soon busied themselves transforming each new road car into a race car. Out came the interior; in went a full cage, Cobra Sebring race seat, Schroth five-point harness, eight-nozzle remote fire system, and a Momo steering wheel on a quick-release hub. The suspension was modified to include JRZ RS Pro dampers with Hypercoil main/ tender springs, solid spherical-bearing mounting plates, three-way adjustable front and rear anti-roll bars utilizing heim-joint droplinks, 997 GT3 lower control arms with solid bushings, adjustable front caster bars, spherical-bearing tie rods with bump-steer ends, and rear toe links with bump-steer adapters. Brakes remain stock but for Pagid RS­29 pads, racing fluid, and stainless-steel lines to ensure a firm pedal in tough racing conditions. Cooling is via GT3-style ducting up front and NACA ducting in the rear. Air flow around the car is managed by an Interseries-spec front splitter and an adjustable GT3 Cup-like rear wing. The engine, transmission, and ECU remain “sealed” against tampering, but a spec muffler replaces the delivered unit and an additional center radiator is in­stalled to help keep the 3.4-liter six cool. The goal is a spec series in which the driver is the lone determining factor, so no additional modifications are permitted. The turn-key race cars can be purchased from Napleton for just under $92,000, and a parts “kit” is in the works. The only items necessary to make a car race-ready include competition wheels, Hoo­sier R6 DOT racing tires (245/35 up front, 295/30 rear) an optional (but recommended) data-acquisition system, and a historic Porsche livery. “We even throw in a free tank of gas,” chuckles Barnaba. Riding with longtime pro driver Jack Baldwin — whom Gehani refers to as the “series competition mentor” — for a few hot laps, it’s interesting to experience a Cayman S that has most of its civility removed. Most notable are the sounds. The song of the flat six resonates through the cabin as sheet metal seems to hold its tune. And that’s capped by a distinct, mechanical whirring of the gears in the upper octave range. Unexpected is the suppleness of the ride. Sure, it’s stiffer than stock — but it’s much more compliant than, say, a GT3 Cup. “It needs to be forgiving and easy to drive for these guys,” explains Baldwin, who adds that most of the competitors are still fairly new to the track and very new to wheel-to-wheel competition. Gehani pilots the Porsche-Salzburg-liveried Cayman, inspired by Porsche’s first overall winner at Le Mans. While he won’t soon be mistaken for 24-hour victors Richard Attwood or Hans Herrmann, he’s shown formidable aptitude behind the wheel, showing well at Road Atlanta and running at or near the front as the Savannah weekend progressed. He’s quick to point out that the series is as much a classroom as it is competition. Stroll through the Cayman Interseries paddock compound, and you’re likely to see Baldwin leading a discussion on avoiding trouble during race starts and restarts, or an AIM representative teaching competitors how to analyze track data and leverage that to improve lap times. “Jack even walks the track with us,” adds Gehani. “He’ll stop and say, ‘Look at this; this corner is off-camber. Look at that; you don’t want to hit that rumble strip.’ There’s a lot of time and effort spent educating us.” <!-- page break --> In 2009, podium finishes in both sprint races and an enduro victory by Gehani in Savannah were followed at Daytona by a sprint race victory and another enduro win. Gehani missed the fourth and final weekend of the 2009 Cayman Interseries at Sebring, but he amassed enough points in three events to be declared the inaugural season champ. And as the season progressed, the field sizes expanded from four in Atlanta to the low-teens by the year’s end. Barnaba is enthused not only by this growing interest but by the reliability of the cars throughout the year. “Collec­tively, we put probably 35,000 track miles on the cars now and there have been zero mechanical failures,” he says. “For us, it’s been normal consumables: tires and brakes.” Then he starts glancing around for a piece of wood to knock on. Still, the development season uncovered a few areas for improvement. Notes Gehani: “Porsche’s limited-slip differential was definitely not enough for track conditions. There was too much wheel spin in some corners. And when we went to Daytona, we found some PSM issues. The computer thought the car was flipping upside down on the banking and would throw us into limp mode.” Ten 2010 Interseries-spec Cayman Ss will be built prior to the commencement of the 2010 season with, Barnaba hopes, an additional ten by mid-season. These will include a new limited-slip differential, updates to PSM, and revised brake ducting. The three-part upgrade package will also be fitted to the 2009 cars as a one-time update to bring everything to 2010 specifications. The specs will then be frozen for the year to help contain costs. On that front, Barnaba reckons that a budget-minded competitor can look to spend between $4,000 and $6,000 on the low end for a race weekend. Those looking for a full-service “arrive and drive” experience, complete with pro coaching as offered by Napleton, might be looking at $8,000 to $10,000 per weekend. Compared to the $20,000 to $25,000 being spent by many amateur competitors in the IMSA Patrón (GT3) Challenge, the Interseries’ cost-conscious aspect is clear. And that doesn’t even include the fact that a Cup costs twice as much as the Cayman and is far more expensive to maintain. Says Barnaba: “If you break a Cayman axle, it’s not $3,500; it’s about $350. Even if you blow a motor, it’s eleven grand to replace it…” Outright, a GT3 Cup motor runs about six times that much. Yes, the Patrón Challenge puts the strength of IMSA behind the series and brings more attention to the competitors, but Barnaba is looking to address that as well. Beyond running with just HSR in 2010, the Cayman Interseries has inked to run in support of Grand-Am at Watkins Glen. New Jersey Motorsport Park is a hopeful addition, and a shared weekend with SCCA Pro’s World Chal­lenge series is in the planning stages. With field sizes expected to grow into the 20s — “I think we’ll see 25 cars at some events,” says Banaba — it’s a series worth watching. “It’s fun, it’s easy, it’s cost effective,” adds Baldwin. “I don’t know what we’re missing in this equation.” And if it continues to grow, that streak of gold with bold red script on the hood you see at a track in 2010 just might be Miller Time. One Porsche fanatic’s epic idea. 2010-02-11T19:40:59-08:00 Cayman Interseries ramps up for 2010 false Porsche Cayman Interseries recalls 917 days 25 182 now-and-again New Cayman Interseries 4 2 Spec Racing true 2010-02-18T21:25:34-08:00

1 What are 200 cubic centimeters? On 3.6 liters, not much: 5.6 percent — right in line with the 2010 GT3’s 4.8-percent horsepower bump. So another 100 cc shouldn’t be worth much, right? SharkWerks, a Fremont California tuner, begs to differ. Company owners Alex Ross and James Hendry say their 3.9-liter GT3 RS makes 502 horsepower on the way to its 8800-rpm redline. We had the same questions you probably do: 997 Turbo power without turbos? GT3 RSR engine speeds on the street? Won’t it blow up? “Yes, yes, and no,” said Ross, who offered to drop the car off for a 1,000-mile test to prove it. When we asked if he could come up with a stock 2010 GT3 for comparison purposes, he didn’t stutter. As a result, today marks the first time a 2010 GT3 will hit Excellence’s Secret Test Loop. The U.S. press cars have yet to enter the country due to delayed availability for the optional PDEM active motor mounts —so we’ve been waiting since Summer 2008 to find out if the 2010 GT3 builds on the 2008 GT2’s brilliance. Will the latest edition in Porsche’s high-revving GT3 series delight us on the Loop like the GT2 did? Or will it disappoint us there, like 2007’s GT3 did? Yes, the first 997 GT3/RS left us a little cold. It was hard to say why. From torque to engine note to road-holding to braking to styling to interior quality, it bested the 996 GT3 on every count. Even so, we felt something was missing. Perhaps it was the 996’s purity, but our biggest beef was the suspension tuning. While we loved its grip and turn-in, we found its Porsche Active Suspension Management more re­active than active. The result was a GT3 that jiggled and wiggled on the Loop as well as Infineon Raceway — in both the Sport and Normal suspension settings. Then came the 2008 GT2. On the Loop and at Infineon, it earned our highest praise. “Put simply, the best road-going 911 I’ve driven, at least on a track,” wrote ALMS driver and Porsche Cup winner Johannes van Over­beek. My take was similar: “On track and the best roads we know, it’s an animal — one with that ‘work of genius’ finesse only Por­sche’s best cars possess… It feels like a Por­sche that Por­sche sweat over, and we’re sure it is.” Euro­pean Editor Ian Kuah handled our first test of the 2010 GT3 (August 2009) and came away impressed: “The 3.8-liter engine hasn’t lost the previous 3.6’s high-revving charm… Low-end torque was already quite good in the first 997 GT3, but it’s even stronger here, the 3.8’s extra torque making the dash be­tween curves an immediate, effortless affair.” As for handling, he found the ’10 car “tangibly more neutral,” noting “it feels every bit as sharp as the last GT3 but has less of a tail-led feeling at eight-tenths.” His take only served to increase our curiosity. But while first drives on press trips can be informative, they rarely provide an opportunity to really get to know a car. The Loop does. Hidden in coastal mountains north of San Fran­cis­co, its little-traveled two-laners feature everything from perfect pavement with a diverse mix of turns and elevation changes to rougher sections on which only the best chassis shine. Its tight sections challenge a brake system’s ability to dissipate heat while its long, desolate straights allow fast cars to stretch their legs. Put simply, it’s the best road-test venue we know. <!-- page break --> We’ve tested two 2007 GT3 RSs here, both in the same searing shade of green. After PCNA’s press RS came this one with SharkWerks’ 3.8. It felt like the factory 3.6, but had more power and torque. Enough “more” to justify a projected $17,000 cost? We weren’t so sure. Turns out Ross wasn’t either. He held customers at bay while he and Hendry worked on something he thought might be: a 3.9. Now it’s time to find out if he’s right, among other things. After hauling up the freeway in the red 2010 GT3, I decide to stay in it heading into the Loop’s first twisty section. Much of the last GT3’s character remains in the new one. The engine is still a little grainy, feeling slightly unhinged. It’s electrifying, exciting the senses in a way no other current Porsche engine does — even those that make more power. The GT3 experience is all about immediacy and is conveyed in myriad tactile differences. Its shifter is notchy and requires a more determined hand. Its clutch asks for more muscle. Its stiffer chassis transmits more road texture and that, along with the buzzy flat six, sends more sensations through its Alcan­­tara-wrapped steering wheel, grippy shell bucket seats, and pedestrian pedals —sensations that remind you this 911 hasn’t been homogenized. But for a few surfaces, a new radio, and more Alcantara for those who select full leather, the interior is the same. If only the view out back was. Owners who like the new rear wing will be seeing a lot of it; thicker and positioned higher, its blade is perfectly placed to obscure everything be­tween a bus driver’s gloves and a skateboarder’s shoes. We resort to using the tall side mirrors as rearview mirrors, a practice we abandoned years ago. The road ahead is the Loop at its worst. There’s not a cloud in the sky today, but dampness from rain or fog can stick around for days this time of year and some of the best sections are a treacherous mix of dry pavement with occasional wet spots. Unlike running in the rain, where you build up to an engaging pace and then keep it there, you’ve got to weigh all that dry grip against a few wet sections waiting to exact their punishment. This is, after all, no Carrera 4. Fortunately, the rear-drive GT3’s original-equipment tires inspire confidence in mixed conditions. It’s our first exposure to Pirelli’s PZero Corsa System, Italy’s answer to Miche­lin’s also-O.E. Pilot Sport Cup. We’ve tested Sport Cups on road and track and, on the Loop at least, prefer Pirelli’s R-compound rubber. While outright grip is similar, the Corsa Systems better mimic normal road tires and thus have more predictable characteristics — especially in the wet. As a result, we’re able to deploy most of 435 horses. Like the previous 3.6, the 3.8 has a meaty mid-range. This is still very much a horsepower engine that likes to rev, but there’s a nice gain in torque as the largest yellow needle swings up and around to the right. The advantage is dis­cernible, but hardly overwhelming. 20 more horsepower and 18 more lb-ft? Yeah, that sounds about right. The chassis, meanwhile, has benefitted from lessons learned in the 997 GT2. Cor­ner after corner, the GT3 im­presses. “Roll couple” is a term that has yet to make its way into the greater Por­sche lexicon, but factory engineers use it to describe the way a car’s front and rear ends work together. The new GT3’s suspension tweaks and revised roll centers have worked wonders in that regard. As with the last GT3, there’s loads of front-end grip, yielding immediate turn-in. The boon is that the rear end now feels more in step. Softer anti-roll bars are offset by stiffer springs that minimize body roll as well as brake dive. And, on smooth pavement, the GT3 is as cohesive as the 997 GT2 — but it’s the lighter, sharper tool. <!-- page break --> Is it all that we hoped for? Not quite. Rougher pavement throws hair in the cake. While body control is better than in the 997-1 GT3, it’s still not as good as the 997 GT2’s. The new GT3 jiggles over sections that failed to disturb the GT2. While we don’t mind being jostled, some of the vertical motions unload the tires — reducing mechanical grip or at least our perception of it. When that happens, confidence is lost and, with it, part of the thrill. Back on perfect surfaces, we see the 2010 GT3 for what it is: a great 911 and a worthwhile improvement. It’s not a new ball game, but it is a better car, one with more power, more chas­sis refinement, and better handling. As to its bigger standard brakes? We suspect they’ll perform better at the track, but find the first hints of fade just as we did in the last GT3 (a 996) that we tested on the Loop with standard brakes. Whether it’s the stock pads, the stock fluid, or too many tight turns and not enough straights, we’re soon longing for the optional, fade-free PCCBs. Time to move to the green RS, which has PCCBs and an engine that promises to work them. Its 3.9-liter six is the result of a collaboration between Shark­Werks and Tempe, Ari­zona tuner Evo­lution Motor­sports, with the former handling most of the mechanical aspects and the latter handling the electronics. The additional 300 cc come from a bore increase. While looking to go beyond 3.8 liters, Ross and Hen­dry decided against increasing the stroke early on. Cost was a consideration, but the primary reason was to preserve the GT3’s high-revving nature. Hendry is no stanger to extreme displacement upgrades, having worked for Devek, a 928 tuner that built 6.5-liter, 600-hp V8s. Thus, he knows that big­ger pistons tend to be heavier pistons, a detriment at high engine speeds. Shark­Werks’ lightweight forged pistons are an exception, weighing 496 grams each with the wrist pin. By comparison, each factory 3.6-liter Mahle piston weighs 519 grams with wrist pin while each Mahle in the 3.8-liter 2010 GT3 weighs 537 grams. “Por­sche offset the 2010 GT3’s heavier pistons with a lighter, dual-mass flywheel to help it rev,” explains Ross. “Our pistons reduce rotating mass by 120 grams [over 3.6 pistons], which let us not just maintain the 8400-rpm redline but exceed it.” To prepare the engine for life at nearly 9000 rpm, SharkWerks took one of the quieter pages from Porsche’s RSR playbook. Steel cylinder liners were installed after the aluminum cylinder blocks were bored for the larger pistons. Hendry had to fabricate special tooling to fit the liners, which is one reason the conversion will not be sold as a kit. We suspect another reason has to do with Ross’ admission that he and Hendry spent two years working with suppliers to come up with piston and camshaft specs for their 3.9. While Ross won’t get into the specifics of either, he says the cams are the key and that both the intake and exhaust profiles were altered: “We came up with a profile that takes advantage of more displacement and higher rpm, one that matches piston valve pockets to maximize lift and duration.” He says the cams benefit from experience with 996 and 997 Turbos as well as the 3.8-liter GT3 project. “Unlike cams for a 911 Tur­bo, a car that doesn’t spin past 7000 rpm, we profiled these cams to be able to sustain 8800 rpm. By learning what we did from the 3.8 build, we knew how to set them up without losing performance down low.” The compression ratio is 13.0:1, a full point up on the stock 3.6’s already high 12.0:1. The 3.9 is assembled with cylinder head studs developed by Evo­lution Motor­sports for high-horsepower Turbo applications. Made from H-11 tool steel, they’re claimed to have 260 KSI tensile strength, 83.3-percent greater thread-surface contact, and 38-percent more clamping force than the factory studs. <!-- page break --> As part of the conversion, standard GT3s get an RS flywheel, which cuts 15 pounds from rotating masses. All cars get a GT3 Cup clutch and pressure plate as well as one of two exhaust setups. The first is SharkWerks’ popular muffler by­pass (250 sold and counting — for 911s that are by no means common). No power advantage is claimed, but the bypass lets more sound through while removing 16 pounds. The green RS’s titanium tips save a further two pounds, but Ross says he won’t produce them because Porsche just introduced an identical product. Those after more noise and even less weight can pick the “race” exhaust, which Ross says is too loud for street use but deletes 57 pounds while adding a little top-end power (8–10 hp). The latter features two lightweight stainless-steel mufflers and weighs 11 pounds. “It comes with ear plugs and requires proof of helmet,” chuckles Ross. The 3.9 still utilizes the factory headers and catalytic converters, which Ross feels are well designed. The same goes for the factory airbox, which means the 3.9 looks identical to the 3.6 when you pop the engine lid. The final and most complicated piece of the puzzle was the engine management. Evolution Motor­sports has brought ECU tuning in-house and uses an emulator that allows live tuning in three-dimensional maps for fuel, ignition, cam timing, throttle, and more. When the tuning on its Mus­­tang chassis dyno was complete, Ross says the 3.9 moved from 385 rear-wheel-hp to 458 rwhp, which he estimates is 502 hp at the crank. Torque moved from 274 to 326 lb-ft, for an estimated 355 lb-ft of torque at the crank. For the record, Por­sche claims 415 hp and 300 lb-ft, figures that are probably conservative. The best numbers were generated on 93-octane pump gas, but a separate map for 91-octane gas made only a little less power while a map for the “race” exhaust made a little more. Criti­cally, the 3.9’s gains don’t come at the peaks alone. Its power and torque curves mimic the stock ones but add 70+ rwhp at high rpm and 50+ lb-ft throughout the lower range. “There’s a big jump in horsepower and torque down low compared to the already good 3.6,” opines Ross. “Where the factory cam­shafts and tuning begin to fall off, this motor continues to make power to 8800 rpm — where it’s just five horses down from its peak.” Those ponies don’t come cheap. The 3.9 conversion runs $25,000 on a GT3 RS and $26,000 on a stan­dard GT3 (to cover the RS lightweight flywheel). The build takes four weeks, with the shop handling initial break-in. Ross says that the job can stretch to six weeks and cost more if additional work is required. The first customer car, for instance, had 35,000 miles and wanted (but did not need) new rod bearings and connecting-rod bolts. This RS’s chassis is largely stock. It’s running the same aggressive alignment we liked the last time we drove it, but a TechArt hydraulic front-end lift sys­tem has been added. It raises the front end by about two inches at the touch of a button and lowers it automatically at 37 mph. The kit adds stiffer front and rear springs and costs $5,999 against Por­sche’s Front Axle Lifting System, a $3,490 option on the 2010 GT3. We’ve heard owners note that dozens of spoiler lips cost less — a financially sound philosophy but one that requires a stomach for scarred spoilers. For our part, we found TechArt’s system quick, quiet, and helpful. It reduced the hassle factor around town, while the stock, electronically-variable PASM dampers took the stiffer springs in stride. The only other chassis change is a set of forged-magnesium one-piece wheels wearing Pirelli PZero Corsa Systems. The Champion Motor­­sport Monolite MS 171’s “split-five-spoke” design is similar to the stock GT3’s wheel, but the MS 171s weigh 18 pounds front and 19 pounds rear, for a savings of six and seven pounds per rim, respectively. Altogether, they shave 26 pounds of unsprung, rotating mass. If it looks like this RS is missing something, it is. Its trademark black side stripes have been swapped for ghosted green stripes that no longer interrupt the flow of its lines. Inside, a Brey Krause harness bar locates Schroth harnesses that thread through Euro­pean one-piece GT3 shell bucket seats. Along with the lighter wheels and exhaust, the seats help save more than 100 pounds. <!-- page break --> So how’s it drive? Twist the ignition key and you’re greeted by the GT3’s characteristic instant-on spin-up and easy revs, but there’s a slightly gruffer bark from the twin tail­pipes. Let the clutch out and the difference in power is anything but subtle. As the 3.9 pulls through second gear and then third, any initial skepticism about the claimed 500 horsepower fades. This is a ridiculously fast 911. We’ve driven faster turbocharged 911s, but this is the fastest normally-aspirated street 911 we’ve tested. By a mile. It’s Turbo fast without Turbo torque. Instead, big speed comes with big revs. As a result, it feels manic. May­be too manic, because you feel like you’re getting away with something whenever the tach hits 8800 rpm. Whether it’s a rod, wrist pin, or your driver’s license, you’re sure something’s got to give. Then you do it again. And again… That’s not the 3.9’s best party trick, however. No, the shocker is this: It’s actually smoother than the stock 3.6, and not just a little. Where the factory 3.6 is grainy — some go so far as to call it rough-running — the 3.9 isn’t. Ross says that a few tricks help here, the most surprising among them being different spark plugs. Ten miles in, I’m hooked. The soundtrack is incredible, with a demonic shriek underpinned by lower frequencies normally associated with air-cooled 911s. But it’s the way that the 3.9 pulls smoothly from 3000 rpm to 8800 rpm that’s intoxicating. Second gear is good for more than 90 mph while third will take you to the far side of 120 — and there are three more gears to go. In practice, there’s no need to shift out of second on a back road anymore, which gets us thinking about lower ratios in second through fifth to multiply the torque. The grip to use it is there. Then again, this thing is fast enough. Too bad the chassis isn’t quite as magical. While the alignment helps, the RS’s first-gen PASM dampers still disappoint. The 2010 GT3’s chassis is noticeably better, but we barely remember it because the 3.9 is a scene stealer. When we get back in the red GT3, it feels like someone has hit the Mute button and muted more than noise. The 3.8, while fantastic, can’t hold a candle to the 3.9. Yes, it’s that big of a difference. The 3.9 feels far more alive, far more willing, and far more thrilling. Does it feel like 500 horsepower? Yes. Does it spin like a GT3 RSR? It does. Will it blow up? We can’t say, but the car will go on to run over a thousand miles in our care on 91-octane gas without a single hiccup. Particularly impressive is the EVOMSit software tuning. Partial-throttle response, often a weak spot with aftermarket tunes, is every bit as good as a factory GT3’s. It’s the final piece in that rarest of puzzles: an aftermarket engine that outshines its factory basis. There are caveats, of course. We can’t speak to longterm reliability, and such a conversion voids any re­maining warranty coverage on the powertrain. Then there’s the not-so-small matter of the 13:1 compression ratio. That said, the engine management seemed able to compensate, as the 3.9 never pinged in our time with it. Finally, there’s this: While the engine looks stock, emissions legality is another matter — though Ross says it passes the sniffer test with flying colors. All serious considerations, but they’re not what’s on my mind weeks after the RS leaves. What’s on my mind is the winner of this matchup, and it’s not a car. It’s an engine, and I’m a handling guy. As that sinks in, I realize something else. Much as I love short-stroke 2.5s and 2.8s, today’s GT3 engines eclipse them. But this 3.9 vanquishes every GT3 flat six I’ve tried. Including the ones in the 997 GT3 Cup and RSR? In a word, yes —in part because they’re overshadowed by a sequential transmission that makes F1 noises and in part because they’re not built to be enjoyable — they’re built to be raced. The 3.9 feels RSR strong but more refined than the production 2010 GT3’s 3.8. Put simply, it’s the best normally-aspirated flat six I’ve tried. That ranks it up there with my top two Porsche engines of all time: the 469+hp, twin-turbo flat six in 1988’s Ruf CTR and the 605-hp, 5.7-liter V10 in 2004’s Carrera GT. It’s hard to see how a flat six can get any better, but perhaps Porsche under Ferdi­nand Piëch will show us. 3.9-liter GT3 RS and and 2010 GT3 3.8 hit the loop. 2010-02-05T13:13:01-08:00 A 3.9 liter GT3 RS that claims 500 horsepower meets The Loop - and a 3.8-liter 2010 GT3 false 2010 GT3 3.8 vs. GT3 RS 3.9 2 The noise is familiar enough. Grainier than the sewing song of a current Carrera, it’s more mechanical, more serious. But as the red 2010 GT3’s tach needle swings through 4000 rpm and sprints for 8000, the sound isn’t the only thing that’s serious. Acceleration is even fiercer than it was in the last GT3, a 911 that managed 415 horses from 3.6 liters. Question is, can this 435-hp 3.8 eclipse the slightly larger 3.9 in the green 2007 GT3 RS waiting in the next turnout? 2 hello-8800-rpm 2010 GT3 v. GT3 RS 3.9 1 1 Loop Test true 2010-02-12T14:26:48-08:00

13 The second and third attempts? They were done under contract to VW and were a bit more problematic. The first of these was the 914. Thanks to unfortunate decisions made by VW management, it was expensive. For a year, the 914 2.0’s VW-based flat four found its way into the low-price 912E as well, with only minimal success. While Americans bought 914s, the car didn’t sell so well in Europe, where it was marketed as a VW-Porsche. A 911-powered 914-6 helped prestige-wise, but did nothing for profits and was discontinued after just three model years. Not long after 914s began stacking up at European dealerships, work began on its intended replacement. The EA425 (VW’s type number for the project) was a parts-bin special drawing from mass-production VW and Audi hardware. Apparently intended to be badged not as a Porsche but as a VW, the project was nearly complete when VW management decided against building the car. Testing, tooling, and even factory space in an ex-NSU plant in Neckarsulm had been planned out. Porsche made a tough decision: It bought the project back and then renamed it Typ 924. Ironically, the little coupe — with whatever refinements were possible at that late date — fit right into Porsche’s mid-1970s view of the future. Like the 928 under development, the 924 would offer customers a modern sports car with a water-cooled engine mounted up front. In time, the reasoning went, the aging 911, seemingly developed to the limit and expensive to build, would be put out to pasture as the 924, 928, and their successors took its place. We all know how well that worked out. Despite a lukewarm reception from some enthusiasts, qualified raves and blue-sky speculation came from road testers. “In a few years, all Porsches will be front-engined...” wrote one. With performance in the ballpark of such cars as Datsun’s 280 ZX and Alfa-Romeo’s Alfetta, the 924 did appeal to a different class of buyers. With a higher price tag than either, it was saved in the eyes of many not because it was an engineering marvel, which, with its unashamed use of mass-production pieces it was not, but because it was a Porsche. Less than 18 months later came the Mazda RX-7, with more performance and more appeal to those who craved technology and innovation for less money. Porsche was paying attention, however. Suspension tuning took care of a few early complaints and a mild horsepower increase came after a year. This didn’t do anything for the noisy, somewhat rough engine, the lack of a fifth ratio in the transaxle, or the low-dollar disc/drum brake system. The next step was obvious, at least to anyone familiar with Porsche’s 917 and 930: turbocharging. This didn’t come as a stand-alone upgrade; suspension, body, transmission, and braking were all addressed as part of the package. Attention was paid to sound- and vibration reduction, as well. Lingering effects of the non-Porsche underpinnings remained, but 143 horses (vs. the standard 924’s 110), five forward speeds, and four-wheel disc brakes simply overpowered any criticism. At over $21,000, the Turbo was twice the price of the ‘78 924. Conspicuously absent in the 924 story so far is any mention of motorsports. The 924 could be raced for class wins, and was. Somehow, though, that lacked the image appeal of outright victories. So, in 1981, Porsche unveiled the 924 Carrera GT. The formula was simple and could be traced to several special 911 models of the recent past: Raise power and add the necessary competition goodies to enough cars rolling off the assembly line to qualify for whatever “production” racing class you’re interested in. <!-- page break --> In this case, the requisite number was 400 cars to qualify for the FIA’s Group 4 category. From the outside, it was apparent that this was no ordinary 924 Turbo. The cooling slots cut in the nose for added air cooling were like those on the standard Turbo, but the front fenders were widened and add-on caps were applied to the rear flanks to accommodate larger and wider (16x7 front, 16x8 rear) wheels. An air scoop atop the hood was added as well, along with a larger rear spoiler. Not so noticeable was the windshield, bonded for aerodynamic and structural reasons. But the real news was under the skin. Placing an intercooler between turbo and intake allowed increases in compression ratio and boost, bringing output to 210 bhp. To cope with the added power, which reduced the 0–60 mph time from 7.7 seconds to under 5.9 and raised maximum speed to 150 mph (18 mph over the street Turbo), the suspension was stiffened. Surprisingly, the brakes were largely left alone. Orders had been placed for all 400 examples before the production run was complete. Focus soon shifted to the “evolution” version, the GTS, built in a series of 50 in street-legal form but ready for competition. The engine remained largely the same (though some say the power was bumped again, this time to 245 bhp, but still well short of the 375 bhp in the factory Le Mans entries), but the interior was gutted and an aluminum roll cage that provided both protection and more structural rigidity was installed. The 924’s retractable round headlights were replaced by fixed rectangular lights under transparent covers. This time, the need for better brakes was felt —and parts borrowed from the 911 Turbo would fit the bill. Porsche’s trio of 924 GTRs did well enough at Le Mans in 1980, finishing 6th, 12th, and 13th overall in their first appearance despite serious engine problems that forced their drivers to adopt a slower pace. The next year saw a 924 GTR take seventh overall at the 24-hour race, though this time there was a difference: the car was powered by a development version of the upcoming 944 engine which, with a turbocharger, churned out a healthy 420 bhp. Almost as quickly as it had appeared, the 924 GT/GTS was history, overtaken by the 944. Though the new car had much of the visual flair of the GT/GTS — and was a welcome change from the clean but largely featureless 924 — the news was, once again, under the hood. The VW-Audi four had been supplanted by a new engine that was, in essence, half of the 928 V8. Equipped with a pair of balance shafts, it was smoother, quieter, and, in normally-aspirated form, a match for the 924 Turbo in output. This, at last, was the “real” Porsche that buyers had been waiting for. What’s more, it was offered at a lower price than the 924 Turbo, which it replaced in the U.S. Published road tests were effusive, almost free of caveats and complaints. Long lines at dealers ensued. While this became the entry-level Porsche, part of a line that would eventually include expensive turbocharged and open-top models, Porsche focused its racing efforts elsewhere — notably the 956 and 962. When the end came for Porsche’s front-engined cars in 1995, the company was still building 911s. Opportunities to drive a 924 Carrera GTS don’t come along very often, so when Henry Camisaca offered his (number 20 of 50 built) for a run, I wasn’t going to say no. Camisaca has owned the car for two years since purchasing it from the estate of the original owner, who took delivery from the factory in August, 1981. According to the factory invoice, 110,000 DM was paid for the privilege. Now showing a mere 36,000 kilometers on the odometer, the GTS is remarkably original and is kept in pristine condition. For comparative purposes, we brought along as original a 944 as you’re likely to see today. John Clinard, who labors for Ford Motor Company’s Public Affairs division during the day and seems to spend the rest of his time enjoying great cars of all kinds, bought the 1985 944 some years ago for his son Jeff as a first car! At the time, it had rolled up a mere 7,500 miles. It was later sold and eventually bought back. By the time we matched it up with the GTS, it had been run for a total of 50,000 miles but felt as tight and new as it had during my first drive in it more than a decade ago. A deeper rear valance and 16-inch Fuchs wheels are the only “major” changes. But it was the India Red GTS and not the bronze 944 that caught my eye. I have to admit some ignorance of its story beforehand; all I knew for sure was that the GTS was a kind of factory hot rod intended for racing but endowed with some civility, much as the earlier 911 Carrera RS had been. I was more familiar with 944s and was curious to see what this proto-944 with racing credentials was all about. <!-- page break --> A close look at the GTS is revealing: You could easily mistake it for a 944 until you check the details. The side quarter windows and rear window are Plexiglas. Racing-style pins keep the fiberglass hood closed, and a plastic GTS badge sits below the rear spoiler. The GTS’s fuel tank fills from under the rear hatch, while the battery lives in the spare-tire well. The GTS’s interior is severe, with a lot of painted surfaces, a pair of 935 seats, and shells for doors. It does have carpet and insulation, however. These were installed at the factory per the buyer’s wishes, according to the invoice. In contrast to the single-purpose air of the GTS cabin, the 944 is almost sybaritic inside. There’s plenty of padding, the usual complement of audio, A/C, and ventilation controls, the whole panoply of GT car fittings and amenities. Somehow, the 944 feels larger inside even though it isn’t. There isn’t anything unusual to be seen under the GTS’s hood. Everything is clean, laid out neatly for quick service during competition. The space in the 944 seems far more crowded, even though there’s no turbo with its large housing and piping runs. Those contradictions continue when the respective ignition keys are turned. The GTS engine is less refined, though totally without temperament. It idles smoothly enough — as smoothly as it does anything, that is. First gear is in the old-fashioned race-car location: down to the left and back, outside the H-pattern. But once you’ve remembered that, starts are fuss-free. What starts in the GTS are not, however, is rapid — at least not without the kind of forceful driving techniques you don’t employ in someone else’s pride and joy. Low compression means precious little torque off the line; nothing really happens until the boost gauge (a dial not supplied in either 924 Turbo or Carrera GT) shows 1.0 bar, which is usually somewhere above 3000 rpm or thereabouts. At that point, the engine is getting with the program and speed starts to builds at an impressive rate. Drivers of modern turbo cars have little experience with what was called “turbo lag” back in the day, but it was a fact of life in the 1970s and 1980s. The rest of the controls feel just right. Steering, clutch, and brakes all require moderate effort; this is not a tiring car to drive. Moreover, you sense that Porsche engineers pared out a fair number of pounds (more than 300 when compared to the 944), and that’s all to the good. This is a nimble, delightful car to drive, and would probably be a blast on the track — at least once the driver adjusts to the delay between asking for power and getting it. I didn’t have a chance to work the GTS hard, but it imparted a feeling that there would be no nasty surprises waiting out toward the ragged edge. I got the sense that once the GTS was up to speed, it would be easy to keep it there. Time for the 944. The newer car felt almost soft by comparison, but that was relative. It certainly earned the accolades it received from testers when new. In turns, it felt slightly less precise than the GTS, which may have had as much to do with tires as anything else. Oddly enough, despite the balance shafts, the engine felt slightly rougher than the GTS’s; it wasn’t much quieter, either. The 944’s horses, fewer in number, were nicely responsive at low speeds. I will say I found myself echoing one complaint leveled at production 924s and 944s: The driving position is not comfortable and there’s not a thing you can do about it. The steering wheel is too low (and too vertical), leaving little space for both human thighs and seat cushions below. Didn’t notice that in the GTS. For the most part, each of the cars left the impressions I expected. The GTS was ostensibly a racer, but there is a wide gap between a racer from the assembly line and one that has been directly prepared for the track. It lacked the hard edges of a car in full numbers-on-the-side trim, but still impressed as being ready to go out for some serious lapping. As has been the case with other homologation specials I’ve driven, the GTS felt as if it should be the mass-production car from which race cars are derived. It was a purposeful but sweet little machine, and imminently lovable. The 944 was state-of-the-art for its class in 1985. Now, 24 years later, it does not feel as outmoded as you might expect and remains very likeable. As a combination daily driver and weekend canyon runner, it would be hard to beat, delivering quality, comfort, and performance in a pretty reasonable package. Visually and dynamically, it is a far more appealing proposition for the 21st Century than a Nissan Z of similar vintage. It’s not easy to imagine a world without the 911, one in which all Porsches are front-engined. Good as they were, impressive as they still are today, neither 924 nor 928 had what it took to push the traditional Porsche layout off its pedestal. That said, I’d take a GTS in a heartbeat. I’d opt for a 944, too, but that would take two heartbeats. The GTS invites you to pull your helmet on for a fast run around the Nürburgring; the 944 suggests you toss your luggage under the hatch and settle in for a nice, long road trip. In other words, the 944 speaks to the mind, while the GTS connects with the soul. At the end of the day, that’s what really counts in a sports car. The sexy 924 Carrera GTS and smart 944 face off. 2010-02-06T13:58:59-08:00 The ultimate 924 meets the model that replaced it, Porsche's smart 944 false 924 Carrera GTS vs. Early 944 3 Porsche and Volkswagen have long lived in a state of symbiosis. Three times during their relationship thus far, Porsche has built sports cars based on VW components. The first time turned out wonderfully well: The 356 was, after all, the foundation for all that followed and the realization of an idea Ferdinand Porsche considered and acted upon with the Type 64 of 1939, long before the first VWs reached civilian hands. 2 body-and-mind 924 GTS Meets 944 14 2 Comparo true 2010-02-12T14:27:47-08:00

4 If you roll hard on the throttle in third gear, though, you know something’s up. As the revs build from 2000 rpm and go past the big 3 on the tachometer, it’s clear that this isn’t your average SC. It feels more like a Carrera 3.2 than an SC 3.0 —and yet the car is entirely stock, just as it was delivered from the factory. In 1984, Blincoe’s penchant for Por­sches had him frequently looking to add something different to his garage. A friend traveling to Hamburg happened into Raffay Porsche, where a unique, low-mile Targa caught his eye. A call was made, and Blincoe quickly jumped at the chance to acquire a very unusual piece of Porsche history: a factory 3.1-liter SC. In acquiring the car, Blincoe took advantage of a loophole in the law. “In the 1980s, you could import all the cars you wanted, provided you converted them to EPA specs,” he begins. “But each person could do a one-time exemption on the EPA standards.” DOT standards still had to be met, but that was easy; the key was that the mechanicals could be left alone. Still not sure precisely what he’d purchased, Blincoe arranged to have the 1980 SC shipped across the Atlantic. Porsche’s 3.0-liter 911 SC, successor to the 2.7-liter 911, came at an interesting time in Por­sche’s history. Tightening emissions requirements (both noise and exhaust) made it more difficult to develop soul-stirring power from its air-cooled six. Concurrently, Porsche made moves to pin its future on something other than the rear-engined 911 platform. More specifically, Ernst Fuhrmann ushered in two performance-oriented, front-engined players: the 928 and 924. And he positioned them to chase the 911 into its sunset. It’s not surprising, therefore, that the 911 received short shrift from a development standpoint in the late 1970s. Aes­thetically, the SC was little different from the 2.7, gaining only a pair of modest rear flares. Mechanically, the transition to 1978’s SC resulted in a simplification of offerings. Notably, Rest of World buyers were no longer offered a high-performance variant when the popular Carrera 3.0 was terminated after 1977. 1978 model-year buyers received 180 hp from the SC’s detuned 3.0. Though this was a bump of 15 hp from the previous generation, the performance improvement was tepid because the 911 continued to add weight, moving up by about 100 pounds between 1977 and 1978. The situation was particularly disconcerting to RoW performance enthusiasts who no longer had that 200+ hp option — unless they bought a turbocharged 930. Meanwhile, magazine coverage of the likely 911 phase-out caused a backlash from aficionados who voiced strong preference for the 911 as the “true” Porsche. Fuhrmann’s stance on the future of the 911 tempered slightly: “We will build this car as long as people want to buy it... Only when production volume falls below 25 per day will we have to end it.” Softness in demand for the first-year SC rebounded moderately in 1979. And since the production-level threshold to continue manufacture was comfortably exceeded, the 911’s future grew more secure. No doubt, this confounded not only Fuhrmann but those automotive journalists who felt Porsche had finally created a 911 at the zenith of its technology-demand nexus. <!-- page break --> “The 911 SC is as good as it can be made,” opined one Car and Driver scribe. “Porsche has massaged, refined, re­worked, and improved on it until the car is as near perfection as it can be. And that’s why it will go away. Innovation and challenge are very important at Porsche. The 911 no longer provides either. It has outlived its usefulness, and as attrition takes the die-hard traditionalist, the 911 will finally outlive its demand.” Despite being “as near perfection as it can be,” a fair chasm existed between the performance of the SC and its 930 big brother. Seeing an opportunity to bridge the gap, Porsche quietly set to work on the company’s very first “factory tuning kit” intended for road use. Enter Rolf Sprenger and his Department of Special Requests at the Kundenzentrum (Customer Center). Sprenger — the father of Bosch mechanical injection in Porsche’s road cars — would soon make another indelible mark on the 911 lineage with the Flachbau (Flat-nose) 930. However, on this SC-based project, the work of his team flew almost entirely under the radar. Their goal? 210 hp — the same as the revered ’73 Carrera RS. Politics necessitated secrecy. With the 928 envisaged as the standard-bearer of Porsche’s future, it was important to position the 911 appropriately from a performance standpoint. Factory performance figures quoted 0–62 mph for the 240-hp V8 sled at 6.8 seconds for the five-speed and 8.2 seconds for the automatic, with top speeds of 143 and 140 mph respectively. Low and behold, the five-speed SC 3.0’s numbers came in at 7.0 seconds and 136 mph. The political tap-dance meant that any works-produced performance kit for the SC could not receive the press attention that would otherwise be afforded it. Inside Kunden­zentrum, lips were zipped. Sprenger’s team took the stock 930/03 engine seen in RoW SCs (930/09 for MY1980) and bored it from 95.0 to 97.0 mm, the same as the 3.3 Turbo motor. This yielded 3122 cc with the stock 70.4-mm stroke. The compression ratio was increased from 8.6:1 to 9.5:1, which necessitated the use of premium grade fuel (98 RON). An upgraded fuel distributor was employed, while pistons and cylinders were sourced from Mahle. To handle any additional cooling needs, a larger oil cooler — likely left over from the racing program and similar to the eventual 3.2’s unit — was mounted in the right front fender. Finally, a taller fifth gear of 0.759:1 (rather than 0.785:1) pushed top speed higher. In the Kundenzentrum, technician Elmar Willrett assembled the engines under the supervision of master engine mechanic Helmut Pietsch. Output from the 3.1 rose to 210 hp at 5800 rpm and 206 lb-ft of torque at 4700. This met the goal and represented a healthy power increase of 17 percent over the ’78–’79 powerplant and 12 percent over 1980’s uprated 188 hp RoW 3.0. 0–62 mph fell to a claimed 6.5 seconds while top speed rose to a claimed 143 mph. Given the political climate, these figures were conservative. The special engine required a trip by Porsche to the TÜV for certification; of course, additional taxes and insurance requirements would be borne by the eventual buyer. While Porsche honored the standard warranty for the SC’s powertrain, buyer documentation warned that repairs to the powerplant might be difficult for dealerships to complete due to a scarcity of parts. Instead, owners were encouraged to contact the factory directly in the event such repairs were necessary. This seemed a prescient recommendation since Sprenger’s team had no way to gauge how many examples of the 3.1 SC-L (Leistungsgesteigert or “increased power”) might be built. After all, the desire to keep the project from publication meant the motor upgrade was never an official option. As such, no option code ever existed for the 3.1. Porsche knew that certain potential SC buyers would be put off by the lack of power in the 3.0, so dealers were instructed by Ernst Bret in Sales and Customer Service to quietly mention the availability of a factory-installed power kit whenever such shoppers voiced displeasure. Thus, news of the DM 7,500 option (approximately $3,750 in 1978) was spread entirely by whispered word of mouth. That news never extended across the pond, since the 3.1 was made available first to the German market and then remaining RoW markets. It was never offered in the U.S. <!-- page break --> Porsche’s refusal to proactively market the SC-L left a gaping hole for two early 911 tuners to fill. Sensing an opportunity improve upon Porsche’s hobbled SC and to successfully market the result, Alois Ruf and Max Moritz stepped forward. The two asked Porsche’s permission to use 97-mm bore cylinders and pistons for their own 911 hot rods. Por­sche declined, so they went to Mahle to have the pistons and cylinders produced. Mahle feared intellectual property issues, so Ruf and Moritz ordered 98-mm bore parts instead, yielding 3185 cc with the stock 70.4-mm stroke. Moritz’s 911-based offering didn’t fare particularly well; likely less than 100 examples were sold. Ruf’s 215-hp SC-R, on the other hand, became its first official “serial number” Porsche model and was quite successful, as some 400 units went to customers. Sprenger estimates that between 200 and 300 SC-Ls were delivered during its three-year run. The SC-L was discontinued for 1981, when the RoW 3.0 went to 204 hp. Today, even in Germany, time has erased nearly all tracks left by those special cars. Internal documentation has been disposed of and Sprenger’s personal project folder has been lost in the shuffle. Thus, knowledge of the details mostly resides in the minds of those few who played a role in the project. To a lesser extent, it resides with those who purchased the machines. A letter from Bret and Sprenger accompanied each sale, and a folded insert was placed in each owner’s manual containing some information and the power and torque curves. Blincoe surmises, “If I didn’t have the letter or the insert, I would presume this car to be a three-liter. Maybe there’s another one in the country and the owner doesn’t even know what it is.” The possibility of that doesn’t surprise Jim Williams. An inveterate 911 tinkerer, Williams has his own 3.1 story to tell. “I was looking for a three-liter engine to put in my ’73 RS lookalike,” he begins. He saw a rebuilt one advertised on Pelican Parts’ website. “It was obvious from the advertisement that the guy who owned it was not a Porsche person.” Williams called to check out the story. Comfortable with what he learned, he made the purchase. The crate arrived at his Huntsville, Alabama residence soon after. The first thing Williams noted upon opening the crate was that the motor had been poorly taken care of. Closer inspection commenced. “Part of the sheet metal was left off the engine, and it allowed me to look in the cylinders,” he continues. “I expected to see cooling fins all the way around on the cylinder top, side, and bottom. What I saw were Turbo cylinders.” He knew them to be 97 mm, not 95. “I started looking closer and closer and I thought, Gosh, it looks like this was put together out of somebody’s parts bin.” Williams’ wide-ranging experience with 911 powerplants has led him to be well-regarded in the Porsche internet community as a CIS-knowledgeable resource. So what he found next was a big eye-opener: “This engine had, on the fuel distributor, a Bosch (part number) stamp which is totally unlike what was on any Porsche I’d ever seen.” He expected to see something like 0 438 100 031 or 0 438 100 097. Instead, he saw 6149/8617E, supporting Sprenger’s assertion that the fuel distributor was unique to the SC-L. “The only explanation I can come up with is that Porsche designed what they needed for this particular engine and had Bosch build it and calibrate it,” Williams supposes. Then he found the first clear clue that the flat six might somehow be a factory special. There, stamped on the engine case was 930/03 *3.1*. Williams’ own odyssey to learn about the SC-L began, necessitated by the fact that the motor had not been rebuilt as advertised. To date, he’s likely one of the only people in the U.S. to have pulled a 3.1 apart and realized it was something special. Cer­tainly, similar experiences have led understandably confused 911 mechanics and enthusiasts to scratch their heads and wonder. It’s impossible to tell how many. Today, head-scratching wonderment has led me to the outskirts of Savannah, Georgia, where Live Oak branches draped with Spanish Moss hang low over country roads. A quick twist of the key and the 3.1 burbles to life. With only 27,300 miles on the odometer, the 915 gearbox feels tight. At lower revs, power delivery feels like that of the 3.0. Just beyond 3000 rpm, though, the torque comes on far stronger than in its contemporary sibling. The thrust in the midrange reminds me of my 1989 Carrera 3.2’s, though its surge comes closer to 4000 rpm. The SC-L starts to flatten out only when the tach nudges 5000 rpm. In the final 1000 rpm before redline, the 3.1 is perhaps not as eager as the 3.2, but it’s still plenty willing. It’s the deeply satisfying rush between 3000 and 5000 rpm that stays with you, though. The SC-L Targa has been in Blincoe’s hands now for 25 years. In fact, it’s the longest he’s ever owned a Porsche —and he’s owned quite a few. While only 4,000 miles have amassed in that period, the 3.1 has been exercised at regular intervals throughout its time in the States. And, no, Blincoe isn’t looking to part with it to make room in his garage for something he’d be inclined to drive more often. “What could I replace a car like this with?” he asks, smiling. If owning such a unique piece of Porsche history is the goal, the answer is simple: Not much. _Research by Wolfgang Blaube_ 2010-01-30T09:08:30-08:00 This forgotten 911 SC variant packs a punch. false 1 Set Bill Blincoe’s 1980 911 SC next to one of its contemporaries and you won’t see anything to distinguish its stance. Start its flat six and you won’t hear anything to distinguish its rumble. Tool around at mundane speeds on partial throttle and you won’t feel anything to distinguish its performance. 1 point-one Forgotten 911 SC 3.1 4 1 Rarity true 2010-03-09T18:53:26-08:00

1 When the 997-based Carrera arrived for 2005 with Porsche’s first generation of the electronically variable PASM dam­pers, Minus 20 became even more appealing. Why? PASM — standard on the Carrera S and optional on the Carrera — lowered the car by 10 mm, but its high-tech dampers didn’t impress me quite the way many conventional Por­sche dampers had. For 2005’s 997, Minus 20 offered more than a lowered center of gravity and good looks; it paired a mechanical limited-slip differential with damper valving built on decades of 911 knowledge. In late 2005, I expressed my dismay to Michael Bartsch, Executive Vice Presi­dent of Porsche Cars North America. I noted that American Porsche drivers are as sporting as any, with a higher percentage of U.S. 996 buyers opting for a manual than their German counterparts. Bartsch, a keen Porsche enthusiast, listened intently but promised nothing. There’s no telling what changed Por­sche’s mind, but the introduction of the 2009 Carrera brought with it a welcome announcement: Sport PASM would replace Minus 20 Sport Suspension and it would be available in North America for $2,940 on Carreras, $1,990 on Carrera 4s, $950 on Carrera Ss, and as a no-cost-extra on Carrera 4Ss. Not long after, I began to get emails from Excellence readers, asking for our take on Sport PASM. There was just one problem: No U.S. press car was equipped with Sport PASM, and my brief drive in Europe in a 997 C4S with the system happened on an airport race track. There’s always a way, though. In this case, a Carrera 4S PDK coupe with the standard PASM suspension was sitting in Detroit while a C4S PDK coupe with Sport PASM was sitting in the factory press fleet in Stuttgart. Not the easiest or best way, but a way nonetheless. First up, the Meteor Grey C4S. As we set out from DTW for Ohio, memories of the same drive in a 2003 996 Carrera coupe on 18-inch wheels came flooding back. At the time, I thought a certain Michigan-based car magazine’s writers were wimpy for whining about ride quality in 996s on the optional 18s. Then I felt the expansion joints on the way to Marblehead. All 12,367 of them. It was like driving by Braille; you certainly knew when you left Michigan. Today’s C4S, with the latest PASM and 19-inch wheels, feels even better buttoned-down than that 996 but filters out the expansion-joint smacking beautifully. It’s one more indication that the Carrera line is maturing into an exceedingly complete car — one that offers few drawbacks against competition such as Jag­uar’s XK, BMW’s 6, and Mercedes’ SL. It provides as much (or more) performance and useful space in a smaller package with a more efficient engine. Ohio failed to yield the endless curvy backroads we prefer for road testing, but the few short sections we found confirmed what I learned about the current Carrera 4S at the airport track near Berlin a year ago: Even with standard PASM, it offers sharp handling, keen steering, and loads of grip. <!-- page break --> The wide-body C4S’s generous tires, fast-acting all-wheel-drive, and inherent rear-engined traction advantage helps it get out of corners like nothing else —except a 911 Turbo, of course. With the safe and secure handling comes a ride quality that will upset few customers in what can only be termed a luxurious segment. Over three days, the Meteor Grey car had laid down a gauntlet Sport PASM would be hard-pressed to best: a ride good enough to make an SL buyer happy along with handling sharp enough to satisfy hardcore 911 drivers. On to Germany, and the Aqua Blue C4S coupe. According to PCNA, the Sport PASM setup doesn’t alter the dam­pers, anti-roll bars, or suspension bushings, but its spring rates are roughly nine percent stiffer. Sport PASM springs drop the ride height by an additional 10 mm while the number of spring coils remains the same, at four. If that sounds like a subtle change, that matches up with our first impressions: Sport PASM just didn’t seem like much of a compromise. Of course, roads in Germany are typically superior to those in much of the U.S. Certainly that’s true of Michigan, though Ohio’s roads in the areas we visited were generally excellent. Fortunately for this test, it seems even the Germans have the occasional patches of poor pavement these days. We found some just outside Heidel­berg, as well as less-than-smooth brick streets in several older Swabian cities. In each case, Sport PASM surprised us with its ability to soak up lumps and bumps while taking the edge off sharp shocks. Is it every bit as good as the regular PASM system in this regard? If no, then it’s not far off. On the other hand, the Sport PASM C4S felt subtly sharper, turning in just a bit better — and its limited-slip diff is a welcome addition. All up, we felt Sport PASM offered a sportier setup without wrecking the ride. The extra 10-mm drop in ride height was a subtle visual bonus. In fact, that may be what it comes down to. Buyers who don’t feel that the slight drop in ride height and small advantage in handling are worth the added hassle of a more vulnerable front bum­per can stick with regular PASM. As for me? It’d be Sport PASM — but I’m just glad we finally have the choice. Testing Porsche's Sport PASM setup for the 997. 2010-02-07T16:44:04-08:00 Driving two identical 997 Carrera 4Ss on two continents to answer a simple question: Sport PASM or regular PASM? false 4 It’s been a long time coming. That goes for this test as well as the subject itself: the first sport suspension option for U.S. Carreras. Whenever I visited Stuttgart-Zuffen­hausen over the last decade, I’d see lowered “Minus 20” 996s and early 997s at Werk I, hunkered down with a purposeful stance and the promise of pin-sharp handling. That U.S. buyers were denied a chance to order one always frustrated me. 1 the-hard-way Sport PASM vs. Regular 1 2 Tested true 2010-02-08T17:16:09-08:00

20 Braking late here might cause the ABS to activate at exactly the wrong time and send this $194,000 997 GT2 into the tire wall. Braking slightly earlier, with lighter pressure, I attempt to carry big speed into the Carrousel. Just as I crest the hill, I downshift quickly to third, trail the brakes, and turn in. The 305-mm Michelin Pilot Sport Cups out back have had all they can take. As lazy oversteer sets in, I’m not worried — just disappointed. The momentum I worked hard for and desperately need to put down a good lap has been wasted. Turning into the slide, the GT2 rights itself and I roll onto the throttle to get a good launch off of Turn 6. The steering wheel is pointed mostly straight even though the track continues to the left, allowing me to execute a nice drift all the way to the exit curbs heading up the short straight to Turn 7. Just past track out, I’m at redline in third and quickly shift to fourth. The GT2’s 530-hp, twin-turbo six sounds like the exhaust of a jet dryer switched to high. Question is, can this car, the ultimate 911 to date, blow the ultimate Corvette away? The fight between Porsche and the Bow Tie in the American Le Mans Series is just heating up, but I’ve been thinking about how the latest street-legal 911 track toys stack up against the 638-hp Corvette ZR1 for a while now. Last year, I had the opportunity to drive an early ZR1 at a track day. It was a new car and the owner was a bit timid. Despite the impairments to going after a lap time, I was impressed with the overall feel of the Corvette. This feels pretty good, I thought. But surely a GT2 would be faster around the track. It has to be, right? I looked into it and found solace in the fact that Walter Röhrl turned an amazing 7-minute, 32-second lap at the Nürburg­ring in a 997 GT2. I couldn’t find mention of a ZR1 ’Ring time anywhere, though. Surely GM would have touted a quicker time if it had one. Before long, magazines began getting their hands on ZR1s and echoed my thoughts. I kept telling myself the GT2 had to be faster around a track. Then it happened. At a race last year, Porsche Motor­sport’s Roland Kussmaul, the godfather of modern racing 911s, showed me a video of a ZR1 lapping the ’Ring with GM test driver Jim Mero at the wheel. As I watched the video and listened to the supercharged 6.2-liter V8’s scream, Mero laid down an incredible lap. The clock stopped at 7:26. <!-- page break --> After watching the video, I still couldn’t believe that a ZR1 could beat a GT2 on track. Or most tracks, anyway. For one, the Nürburgring has a straightaway longer than the full length of most tracks in North America — and the Corvette’s 108-hp advantage could make up the difference on that straight alone. Next, who really knows what kind of chicanery manufacturers go through in order to achieve a top time at the ’Ring? This year’s wild ALMS finale at Laguna brought my curiosity to a boil. I asked Scott Mercer, a friend and student who happens to have both a GT2 and ZR1 in his collection, about his willingness to pit his cars against each other. As always, he was game to see a race. So less than a month after the epic Porsche-Corvette finish at Laguna, a customer GT2 and customer ZR1 are sitting on pit lane at Infineon Race­­way in Sonoma, California on a beautiful fall day. This 2.5-mile road course is known as a “handling” track. What it lacks in straights it makes up for in blind crests and really fast sweeping corners. To learn as much as possible, I wanted to use data acquisition to record every good lap — and every mistake. Subjec­tive feedback is one thing, but data provides an objective measure in addition to lap times to determine where each car’s strengths and weaknesses are. I called Kenny Gorman of Gorman Motor­sports, who specializes in all things data for race cars, and he agreed to come out and monitor the test with the GPS-based Traqmate system. With the Traqmate fired up and ready to go, I settle back into the familiar GT2. The cabin, equipped with shell bucket seats and proper belts for the track, feels spacious yet intimate. The driving position, ergonomics, and view out the windshield, in fact, are very similar to the GT3 RSR I’m used to. Acceler­ating out of the pits, the thrust in second is impressive by any standard. Driving hard on the out lap, I’m using the brakes and throttle aggressively to generate heat in the brakes. The GT2 drives like a very well tuned GT3 RS with more power and more weight over its rear tires. Exiting Turn 11, the last turn on the circuit, I plant my foot to the floor and, after very subtle turbo lag, the GT2 plants itself on its rears and rockets towards Turn 1. The amount of available grip exiting slow corners is fantastic. With 530 hp and 503 lb-ft of torque, the GT2 is the most powerful production 911 yet. Critically, the rear-engined, rear-drive supercar can use all of it. That makes exiting Turn 2 an experience akin to roller-coaster acceleration — fast and deliberate, with a sense of hooked-in forward momentum that only gets more intense. In fact, the GT2’s rear-end grip is so good that it tends to cause power-on understeer, which isn’t helped by the off-camber exit of Turn 2. Heading into Turn 3, a left-hander with a downhill turn-in that rises dramatically just past the apex, the GT2 is settled. When I touch the inside curbing, the car easily swallows the curb in a way that reminds me how unbelievably tough Por­sches are. With each shift, turn of the wheel, or press of the brake pedal, the GT2 taunts you to push it harder. <!-- page break --> Coming down Infineon’s high-speed esses, the GT2 feels slightly unwilling to turn into Turn 8. What initially feels like mild understeer is really just a need to turn the steering wheel more aggressively. Before the GT2 has a chance to compose itself, I turn quickly to the right into the very quick 8A. The quick left-to-right weight transfer takes some timing and patience in order to avoid upsetting the chassis. Like all 911s, the GT2 regains its composure once I’m back on the gas. Turbo-boosting my way through Turn 9 — a fast, fourth-gear left-hander — I concentrate on getting over to the left side of the track to set up for the entry to Turn 10, another fast fourth-gear turn, this time to the right. At turn-in, the back end begins to step out, but it can be corrected quickly with countersteer. At the limit the GT2 is predictable, but the window of available traction is small. At five degrees of slip angle, the GT2 is easy to control and place on the track. Beyond that threshold, it becomes less stable with each additional degree of rotation. My seat-of-the-pants diagnosis is that this phenomenon is tire-related. It seems that once the Pilot Sport Cups’ surface temperature surpasses a certain value, grip diminishes rapidly. The front axle of the car never suffers from the temperature-related drop-off in grip. But with a 38.5/61.5 weight distribution, the front tires aren’t getting used like rears are. Variable-vane twin turbochargers and electronic fuel injection are marvels of modern engineering, producing a powerband that’s smooth and consistent from idle to redline. Some reviewers claim the 997 GT2 has virtually no lag. On the street, its lag is detectible but not obvious. On the track, however, it’s more pronounced. Exiting Turn 3, I flatten the throttle to get a squirt up the hill to 3A. The expected rush of acceleration comes, but it comes three tenths of a second later than I expect. The delay in power delivery is noticeable in the esses, too, where I have to lift slightly followed by going back to power immediately. Anytime I lift, boost pressure is lost and that hesitation is the system recharging itself. With a slightly different driving style, the minor lag can be negated and Infineon can be negotiated at a blistering pace. In this case, the GT2’s three laps stand at 1:49.8, 1:49.8, and 1:49.2. Jumping out of the GT2 and into the ZR1 requires a lack of preconceived ideas. If you’re familiar with a Por­sche, everything about the Vette is different. Sitting in the ZR1 feels foreign at first. Its hood is big, the cabin snug-fitting, and the steering wheel…well, it’s the same wheel the last Chevy Cobalt I rented had. Really, GM? In a $105,000 car, the one thing you look at and touch most is the same found in a Cobalt? Admittedly, I’ve never been a huge Cor­vette fan. When I was growing up, they were big on the outside, small on the inside, heavy, and not fast. In 1973, the Vette tipped the scales at 3,400 pounds. The optional 7.4-liter V8 made 275 hp while the base 5.7 made an anemic 190. Good thing it wasn’t fast, because a modern-day, bargain-basement Kia will out-handle and out-stop it. Of course, like all auto­makers, the General had some good and bad years. But, despite continuous improvements, I never aspired to own a Corvette. Or, frankly, even drive one. <!-- page break --> In 2001, all that changed. I coached a guy who club-raced the first-generation Z06 in the SCCA’s T1 class. A T1 car was essentially a showroom stocker with safety equipment and R-compound rubber. It wasn’t the power or brakes that I found impressive — it was the cornering speed and balance. The 2001 Z06 was far from perfect, but it gave me a healthy respect for GM’s capabilities. Today’s ZR1 has a push-button starter that brings its massive V8 to life. Once running, it’s got a relatively quiet and gentle idle. You wouldn’t really guess that 6.2 liters, a supercharger, 638 hp, and 604 lb-ft of torque are hiding under the hood. The latter give the 3,324-pound ZR1 a better torque-to-weight ratio than Porsche’s almighty V10 Carrera GT. After selecting first gear, I let out the clutch and I’m surprised by how easy and progressive the clutch release is. Pas­sing pit out and heading up the steep approach to Turn 2, I stand on it in second and easily get wheelspin. I don’t know what I’m more impressed by — the wheelspin in second or the sound that the supercharged engine produces. Past 3500 rpm at full throttle, a roar envelops the cabin that gets louder and meaner all the way to the 6500-rpm redline. Heading around the track on my out lap, the ZR1 has a quality that’s hard to put my finger on. It feels supple on track but not necessarily soft. There’s a lot of dive under braking, but it upsets neither the chassis nor its balance. The magic ingredient must be the ZR1’s Magnetic Selective Ride Control. The real-time system swaps the standard Cor­vette’s conventional dampers for units filled with a fluid that contains iron particles. Under the influence of a magnetic charge, the particles produce instantaneous valving changes. With a cycle speed of a thousand times per second, MSRC is claimed to be the fastest-reacting active damper. Because I’m not as familiar with the ZR1 as with the GT2, my out lap is more reserved. That leads to questions about how it’s going to behave once I pick up the pace. Exiting Turn 11, I roll onto the throttle carefully, feeling for traction coming off of this second-gear corner. Get­ting the Vette on the limit with the throttle is easy to achieve and highly predicable. After about 60 mph, I feel confident that I can plant the accelerator to the floor. The ZR1 pulls hard, never dropping off through second, third, and fourth gears until I run out of track heading up through Turn 1 on my way to Turn 2. The ZR1 comes on Michelins, too, in this case the Pilot Sport PS2 ZP (for zero pressure) — a run-flat tire designed specifically for this model. Read­ing the sidewalls, the wear rating for the Sport Cups on the GT2 is 80 where Michelin rates these PS2s at a relatively hard 220. Heading through Turn 2, I don’t have quite the grip of the GT2, but tire-related grip is far better than I thought it would be. <!-- page break --> Turning into Turn 3 seems to upset the ZR1 slightly, almost as though MSRC is confused for half a second. At the exit, I go for a squirt of throttle and am immediately rewarded with generous forward momentum. The supercharged engine provides the throttle response of a GT3 RS with the torque of the GT2 — a great combination on track. Turning into Turn 4 — a downhill, off-camber 90º second-gear right-hander — I carry a bit more speed than anticipated. Rather than overshoot the apex, I roll off the brake and turn in. The ZR1 turns in without hesitation. The amount of speed you can carry at turn-in is truly impressive. Ironically, it’s similar in technique to driving a GT3 RSR on Michelin slicks. Exiting the Carrousel in third gear at about 90 mph, I roll on the power and get power-on oversteer! It’s easy to correct but, as with the GT2, the ZR1 requires you to bring all of your driving skill to the table when you’re at the limit. Heading into Turn 7 well into fourth gear, the V8’s noise is intoxicating. It’s the American answer to the GT3 RS’s song, a sound you can’t wait to share with friends and one that puts a smile on your face. The speed it offers will, too. It’s a good thing the ZR1 has carbon-ceramic Ferrari FXX brakes up front and Enzo brakes at the rear, because I’m heading into Turn 7 at a very high rate of speed. The huge rotors and calipers slow the ZR1 down with authority. When the ABS cycles, it feels as though it does so much more slowly than the Porsche system. The system’s distinctive lock-release characteristic reminds you that you overshot the corner and are on the verge of being in trouble. The Porsche’s ABS system, by comparison, is much less intrusive. The Corvette’s balance through Infi­neon’s esses inspires a lot of confidence. Turn-in is immediate, the transitions easy to predict and control. If you get a bit of understeer, it’s easy to make the ZR1 neutral with the throttle — at any speed and in any gear. In fact, the ZR1 is the only car in which I’ve achieved power-on oversteer at Infineon’s Turn 9, a fast left-hand fourth-gear bend. It could be the lack of rear downforce, but I don’t think that its absence is a contributor. More likely, it’s the street tires and 604 lb-ft at 3800 rpm. In all cornering situations, judicious throttle application is required to drive the ZR1 in a neutral state. Getting used to this Corvette on track takes surprisingly little time. I continue to push the car harder and, when I overstep its limits, it communicates clearly and gently. My laps around Infineon net a 1:49.2, 1:49.2, and a 1:48.8. The times are remarkably close to the GT2’s, this despite the fact that GM has gone about going fast in a completely different manner. An overlay of the data illustrates just how differently these cars achieve their lap times (see sidebar, p. 61). Sitting on the pit wall, watching the heat wiggle the air over the hood of the ZR1 and above the decklid of the GT2, I’m struck by how incredible these cars are. Based on prior experience, I knew that the GT2 was going to be good at Infineon. And it was. However, I wasn’t sure what to expect from the ZR1. Based on previous experience, I knew it would be fast and I knew the critics were saying good things about it. What I didn’t know was how the ZR1 would behave when pushed hard on the track. As a Porsche fan first and a racing driver second, I have to admit that I’m taken with the ZR1. It’s been said that the ZR1 is the best car GM has ever built. I can’t comment on that, but I can say that it’s by far the best GM vehicle I’ve ever driven — on and off the track. The battle for the best lap time around Infineon goes to the ZR1, but the war will rage on. After all, these are cars that were designed to be driven on the street, and a lap time around a race track only tests their extreme performance envelopes. As I drive the ZR1 home after the test, I detect a small exhaust leak. It may have won this track contest, but it looks like it has a little ways to go before it can claim the title as the most complete high-performance car of them all. The top street 911 and Corvette face off. 2010-02-07T17:50:23-08:00 The fight between the 911 and the Corvette is just heating up in the ALMS. So what happens when you pit the ultimate street versions against each other? true 2009 Corvette ZR1 vs. 997 GT2 9 Exiting Turn 4 at Infineon Raceway, I’m flat on the gas in second gear. Short shifts up to third and then fourth come before the braking point for the plunging, left-hand Turn 6 Carrousel, which is hidden just beyond a hump in the road that’s completely blind. 1 the-big-guns ZR1/GT2 1 3 true 2010-02-08T17:17:18-08:00

50 Por­­sche introduced its driver and passenger airbag passive restraint system on the U.S. 1987 944 Turbo, making it the first vehicle with driver and front passenger airbags fitted as standard equipment. This system, standard on all 944 Turbos destined for the U.S., was also available here as an option on 1987 944s and 944Ss. By the 1990 model year, dual airbags were standard on all Por­sches, as they have been on every production Por­sche since. Stuttgart was well ahead of the curve. Airbags with shoulder belts for the driver and front passenger were mandated by the National Highway Traffic and Safety Adminstra­tion Act of 1991, requiring these systems to be installed in all vehicles manufactured after September 1, 1997. Porsche didn’t rest on its laurels: Its two-seat Boxster got door-mounted side-impact airbags for 1998, which were replaced for 2005 by seat-mounted air­bags augmented by “curtain” airbags rising out of the tops of the doors to protect occupants’ heads, another first. Because airbags are a critical safety component, because airbags are largely ignored in Porsche media, and because many airbags are getting older, they’ll be the subject of this Tech Forum, the first by Tony Callas and Tom Prine. h3. Airbags 101 Performance of airbags and related safety systems is defined in the Federal Motor Vehicle Safety Standards Section No. 208, Occupant Crash Protection. The main dynamic performance requirement in FMVSS No. 208 is a “Successful” test rating using a 50-percentile (average height/weight) adult male dummy built to measure impact loads at specific areas of the body. The tests require im­pacts into rigid barriers (an instantaneous stop) from speeds up to 30 mph and at all angles between perpendicular and 30º to either side of perpendicular. Some “Success­ful” test results require that the dummy’s measured Head Injury Criterion (HIC) be rated at 1,000 or less. (For reference, an HIC of approximately 1,850 is generally considered not survivable). Deceleration measured at the chest must not exceed 60 g, and compressive deflection of the sternum (pushed in towards the spine) cannot exceed 76 mm. Additionally, forces transmitted axially through each upper leg cannot exceed 2,250 pounds. Clearly, these are tremendous loads for our bodies to endure. Airbags are a critical advantage, allowing a somewhat gradual deceleration of the head and upper body over an additional fraction of a second. They can be the difference between walking away with bruises and sustaining far more serious injuries. Porsche’s first airbags, like others, were designed to function in a frontal or near-frontal impact. A collision to the side or rear is not recognized and should not deploy the airbags. The system is meant to be used in conjunction with other passive-restraint systems, including a properly adjusted three-point seatbelt and Por­sche’s integrated headrests. The system consists of two front impact sensors, a control unit with safety sensor, airbags with gas generators, ignition pills in both front-seat positions, and a system monitor lamp in the instrument cluster. When an airbag-equipped car sustains a frontal impact, sensors immediately measure the impact force. Airbags are not designed to deploy at a specific vehicle speed but rather at a set threshold of vehicle deceleration based on the vehicle’s design. If the forces meet or exceed the set threshold, the sensor switch closes, the control unit receives this signal and, if the internal safety sensor also closes, the control unit sends voltage to the airbag’s pyrotechnic charge, which ig­nites and deploys the airbag. <!-- page break --> From impact to full deployment, a driver’s airbag takes approximately 30 to 40 milliseconds (0.030 to 0.040 second) — a time span comparable to an up­shift in a modern F1 race car’s transmission and much faster than the blink of an eye (about 0.2 second). A passenger airbag is larger and requires approximately 40 to 80 milliseconds for gasses to fill it. Side-impact airbags must deploy far quicker, as there is no crumple zone and little space between the occupant and the door. Side-impact detection must take place within three milliseconds and complete deployment of the thorax and/ or side-curtain airbags must be accomplished within 10 to 15 milliseconds. In the real world, crashes take place at various angles and with other vehicles at various relative speeds. An air­bag will only deploy if the set deceleration threshold is met or exceeded. Hit a sizeable object or an animal on a highway and your car will sustain moderate to serious damage, but the airbags won’t pop unless the car decelerates abruptly enough to trigger a deployment. h3. Early Porsche Airbag Systems The airbag system starts with a control unit, which provides diagnostic/fault monitoring with memory. It has a self-contained power supply with backup via a charging converter, a safety (triggering) sensor, and airbag firing circuitry. When the car’s ignition is turned on, the system powers up and the diagnostic unit interrogates all airbag system circuits and components for resistance, capacitance, shorted or open circuits, power, and grounds. If operational status is confirmed, the airbag light turns off. Normally, the airbag light goes out in three to five seconds. Even so, a full diagnostic check continues for approximately 70 seconds. The diagnostic unit monitors the system continuously, switching the airbag lamp on if a fault is detected. The airbag control unit utilized in the 944, 944 Turbo, and 944 S2 coupe (part number 944 618 217 00) stores faults in its memory and can be played back as blink-code se­quences on the airbag light. Accessing fault memory requires activating the diagnosis circuit (pin 2) per the instructions in the 944 repair manual, section 68, pages 14–23. The 944 S2 Cabriolet utilized a new control unit (part number 944 618 217 01). With this unit, the fault memory could be downloaded using the Porsche System Tester 9288 (also known as the Hammer or Bosch KTS-300/301). In the course of the 1991 model year, all models were equipped with this unit. The charging converter has a large capacitor that builds up internal power to 35 volts; this capacitor acts as backup power supply by holding the voltage needed to operate the system and ignite the airbags, even if power to the system is interrupted. The airbag system remains charged and completely operational for approximately 20 minutes after the car is turned off as voltage dissipates from the capacitor. Thus, before working on early airbag systems, wait a minimum of 20 minutes after disconnecting the battery to ensure airbag ignition power has dissipated. On later control units, starting with the 1995 993, the backup electrical charge is held for approximately one minute after turning the car off. The control unit’s internal safety sensor functions like the front impact sensors, by closing a switch at a specific threshold of vehicle deceleration. The airbags will deploy only when the unit’s internal safety sensor and at least one front impact sensor switch have closed. The logic behind the internal safety sensor is to prevent accidental airbag de­ployment caused by something like a hard hammer blow near a front impact sensor while service work is performed. <!-- page break --> The front impact sensors are located on the right and left wheel-housing walls, with cables running from each sensor to the control unit. The front sensors function mechanically but are monitored electronically. Each sensor has a hollow roller that allows for the insertion of calibrating weights held in place by a tensioned spring band (wrapped around the roller) and mounted to the base plate of the sensor. An isolated electrical contact sits next to the roller and, in a frontal impact resulting in sufficient deceleration to overcome the spring tension, the roller moves forward to the contact and closes the circuit to the control unit. This type of sensor switch, called a Rolamite switch and developed by Sandia National Labora­tories, was commonly used for airbag im­pact sensors until the mid-1990s. Airbags are made of nylon cloth with an internal coating of Neoprene. Straps within are arranged to form the desired shape when inflated. The internal volume of a driver’s airbag is approximately 60 liters while a passenger-side airbag is approximately 150 liters. The airbags are mounted on the housing of a gas generator filled with solid fuel in a closed combustion chamber. An ignition pill is fitted in the center of the gas generator. When the pill receives an electric pulse, it ignites, which in turn ignites the main pyrotechnic propellant fuel. The exploding fuel process produces nitrogen gas that flows into the airbag through outlet ports that filter combustion materials and help to cool the hot expanding gases. h3. Porsche Airbags Evolve By the 1990 model year, all Porsches destined for the U.S. were equipped with driver and front-passenger airbags. The 944 S2, 968, 964 Carrera 2 and 4, 928 S4/GT, and 964 Turbo all utilized the basic design first released in the 1987 944 Turbo. For 1991, all models got a new control unit, which allowed the Por­sche System Tester 9288 to download stored fault memory and clear it. The new control unit also provided a means of identifying whether the airbag control unit had been replaced. From the factory, the control unit’s power connector came attached to the chassis by an orange securing bracket. If the control unit must be replaced, this bracket must be destroyed to release the connector. Since the replacement bracket is available only in green, a look at this connector will shed some light on the history of a used Por­sche from this era. The 1995 993-based Carrera saw the removal of the right and left front impact sensors. The Rolamite type switches were replaced by the Micro Electro Mechan­ical System (MEMS) Accelerometer — allowing complete crash detection for air­bag actuation within the air­bag system control unit. The MEMS Accelerometer is a very small integrated circuit with an internal mechanical element that moves in response to rapid deceleration. Such a motion causes a change in capacitance that is detected by the control unit, prompting it to send a signal to fire the airbags. While this control unit does not need to be replaced following a single airbag deployment, it must be replaced after the system has been triggered three times. Faults that cannot be erased require control unit replacement. Internal (backup) power remains in these control units for one minute after turning off the ignition or disconnecting the battery. While some features of the 993 were incorporated in the 1997 Boxster, several important changes were made. First, the passenger-side airbag no longer used a breakaway cover; the airbag itself is visible in the dash. Next, the passenger-side solid fuel gas generator was replaced by a pressure canister filled with 95-percent argon and five-percent helium pressurized to approximately 2,940 psi. <!-- page break --> The canister approach offers distinct advantages. First, its gas is released cold, so there are no hot spots. Because the gas is stored under high pressure, the 140-liter passenger-side airbag de­ploys faster, at about 30 milliseconds — similar to a driver-side airbag and about twice as fast as previous versions. When the unit receives an ignition signal, an internal steel cap is blown off, allowing pressurized gas to fill the airbag through holes and duct plates in the canister. Porsche’s technical documentation for 1997 shows the factory had intended to include a passenger-seat occupancy sensor pad integrated into the seat surface material. If the seat was not occupied, the passenger-side air­bag would not deploy. However, we’ve never seen a 1997–2004 Boxster equipped with a passenger occupancy sensor. Interest­ingly, Porsche PST-2 and PIWIS diagnostic/pro­gramming equipment have areas for coding this sensor even though it appears that Por­sche did not install it. The Boxster also got a new airbag control unit like the 993’s, with its internal MEMS accelerometer crash detection. The control unit will store up to ten faults, with a start-and-stop log kept for each fault. Data can be accessed and downloaded with the PST-2 or PIWIS testers. As in the 993, the Boxster control unit does not need to be replaced until the airbag has been triggered three times or if its fault memory cannot be deleted. In 1998, Porsche introduced the 996 to the U.S. as a 1999 model with all air­bag up­grades seen in the 1997 Boxster plus more new technology that would be added to the Boxster. First and most important was the Porsche Side Impact Protection system (POSIP). The system deploys a 30-liter flat-cushion airbag between the occupant and door panel and side window to better protect the head and chest cavity (generally referred to as the thorax). The extra-large airbag was effective in any fore/aft seat position. The new side airbags utilized argon/ helium-filled canisters pressurized to approximately 270 bar (3,969 psi). Side-impact sensors located in the doorsills triggered deployment depending on the angle of impact and measured acceleration. Unlike other airbags, these do not deflate after deployment. The door and door panel were redesigned to better help protect the pelvis, while a new control unit was used and referred to as the Multiple Restraint Systems unit, as it controlled front and side air­bags. MRS also has a crash output, which signals the central-locking system to unlock the doors while shutting off the fuel supply. Porsche, never content with what is, added seatbelt tensioners and belt-force limiters in all 2002 models. The new seat­belt design used a pyrotechnic belt tensioner working in conjunction with the airbag system. When activation takes place, the three-point seatbelt tightens against the occupant’s chest, pulling the occupant firmly into the seatback so that less forward body movement takes place during abrupt deceleration. Operation is achieved when the seatbelt tensioner receives a firing signal that ignites a pyrotechnic charge. The explosion creates gas pressure that pushes a piston that moves a line of ball bearings past a pinion at the reel, which winds the belt back in. The event takes place in approximately 20 milliseconds. The system also incorporates a belt-force limiter to stop the belt from tensioning beyond a specific point. <!-- page break --> One year later, Porsche introduced its Cayenne, a new model and a new direction. While engineering the large, five-passenger SUV, Porsche reconsidered some aspects of its passive-restraint system. While the Cayenne’s basic system layout remained the same, its front air­bags offered two stages of deployment based on impact severity. Impact sensors in the control unit distinguish between lower- and higher-force decelerations. Two impact sensors were added near the front bum­per for earlier and more precise determinations of crash scenarios, including more complex offset frontal impacts to offer improved airbag deployment options. The airbags are fitted with two-stage gas generators to allow them to de­ploy less aggressively if possible. The Cayenne also offered a new side-collision system made up of 10-liter, seat-integrated thorax airbags and 30-liter side-curtain airbags built into the roof frame, all using acid-free gas generators. The system has four side-impact sensors, two at the B-pillars and two at the rear wheel housings. The Cayenne carried the pyrotechnic seatbelt tensioner first seen in the 2002 986s and 996s. For 2005, the 911 and Boxster were new. Both cars, known internally as the 997 and 987, got two additional impact sensors near the headlights to detect the point and direction of an impact. The system retained impact sensors in the control unit and on each side of the car in the doorsills. The 997 was fitted with the two-stage front airbag system from the Cay­enne, but the 987 retained a single-stage deployment system. Due to the risk of serious or fatal injuries from a front airbag when a child seat is in use, Porsche made a dealer-installed key switch available to disable passenger-side front airbags in 997s and 987s. Since the airbag must be switched back on manually to protect a full-size passenger, a “Pas­senger Airbag Off” warning light illuminates on the center console — a message that is also displayed by the on-board computer. The 997 and 987 featured a new generation of POSIP, with two airbags per side instead of one. An eight-liter thorax airbag was integrated into both front seats and a separate, eight-liter curtain-type head airbag deployed upward from the upper door trim panel, making the system suitable for use in both coupes and convertibles, a world first. 997s and 987s still featured the seatbelts with pyrotechnic belt tensioners as used in later 996s, but the height of the shoulder strap was made adjustable at the B-pillar to ensure proper seatbelt fit. h3. Airbag System Aging The airbag systems in 944 Turbos are now more than 20 years old, while most airbag-equipped 928S4/GTs and 964s are roughly that old. So what about continued functionality and component integrity? The good news is that Por­sche’s airbag systems are well engineered and supported by a sophisticated self-diagnostic capability. Even the early systems will detect minor changes within the system and return a fault code if specific electronic values are exceeded or operational issues detected. Longterm exposure to high levels of moisture or corrosive conditions can be detrimental to components including wiring connections, but the system should recognize a change in resistance within the wiring and return a fault code. We’ve never seen documentation from Porsche stating that any airbag system component, including the airbags, must be replaced at a specific time interval to ensure operation. <!-- page break --> That said, a passive approach to air­bag maintenance is not a good idea. Por­sche says airbag systems should be inspected per the factory repair manual recommendations four years after a car’s build date. The system should again be inspected eight years after manufacture and then every two years thereafter for the life of the car. These inspections should be recorded in the maintenance manual, including a listing of any repairs or replacement of system components. In addition to periodic inspections, the following components must be replaced after a deployment in the early cars: the control unit, both front impact sensors, the contact unit on the steering-column switch, and the airbag units. In later cars, check the repair manual carefully for what must be replaced in the event of a deployment. Por­sche wants to learn from airbag deployments, asking that the parts be returned for inspection via a Porsche dealer. This includes any system components that malfunctioned. Generally, airbag system inspections are not automatic; you must request one. Unfortunately, most owners rarely proactively pursue inspecting this system as part of their maintenance program. So what’s involved in a periodic inspection? First, airbag warning light function is verified. If a fault is induced by interrupting power either to or within the system at a specific point (this varies by model), the control system must recognize, record, and playback the fault both on the airbag light and by outputing a fault code to a factory diagnostic tool. Once the fault is corrected and a technician clears the fault, the system must accept the command, erase the fault memory, and return to normal operation. Next, a visual check of all system components ensures no physical damage or modifications have taken place that will hinder or prevent airbag deployment. All wiring must be in good condition and wiring connections must be tight and free of corrosion. No wiring that could induce electric current should be placed in the proximity of an airbag harness. The best short-term insight into the operational condition of your airbag system is to monitor the airbag light on the dash. When you start your car, the airbag light should illuminate for about three to five seconds and then go off. If the air­bag light does not come on or turn off (at all) and/or the light illuminates after the initial startup sequence, there is a problem/fault in the system that must be diagnosed and repaired. When troubleshooting the system, the use of a factory diagnostic tool is recommended — or at least one designed to interface with the systems of the Por­sche in question. Similarly, a technician experienced with the system will be best able to ensure that an accurate diagnosis is obtained. The problem may be simple (like a bad sensor in a seatbelt buckle) or complex (like wiring or a control unit that has failed). While it’s easy to ignore the airbags as a Porsche ages, we believe the proactive approach recommended by Porsche is the best way to maintain longterm functionality. Your life may depend on it. Some of the technical information used in this article is copyrighted by and used with permission of Porsche Cars North America. Pictures, diagrams, and tables are by the authors unless noted. Have technical questions? Please contact us at: techforum@excellence-mag.com 2010-02-10T00:36:35-08:00 true Tech Forum: Porsche airbags 12 181 porsche-airbag-systems 1 true 2010-03-09T18:51:13-08:00

18 Predictably, this is how its maker seems to want things. Stuttgart views its one and only four-door sedan in the cold, hard light of economic reality, a light untinted by romantic concepts like beauty. If the words of company executives are to be believed, Porsche sees its latest four-wheeled wunder as one of the key links in its production-car chain, a balls-to-the-wall gift to the world that will both please the purists and open new demographic doors. As you might expect, the details are fascinating: Stuttgart expects to sell roughly 20,000 Panameras a year worldwide, a figure that, depending on who you talk to, is either wildly optimistic or suspiciously modest. 60,000 people in the U.S. have expressed interest in buying a Panamera. And in the words of Klaus Berning, a member of Porsche AG’s board of directors, Por­sche believes that the Panamera “closes the gap between the 911 and the Cayenne.” That last statement may seem a tad arrogant — after all, far more than a couple of doors and a basic layout separate Porsche’s most iconic product from its most controversial one — but surprisingly, it’s not far from the truth. The Pana­mera’s stretched, arching shape incorporates a great deal of Cayenne and 911 design DNA, and the car’s styling details are an odd mix of traditional Porsche touches and nods to current luxury-car fads. Elegant fender humps and a tongue-shaped hood are paired with seemingly tacked-on fender vents and garish rear badging. The interior is a medley of cleverly used company hallmarks (the four seats that ape the 911’s moderately bolstered buckets), odd ergonomic choices (the seemingly endless array of buttons on the front console), and wonderfully crafted materials. In short, from a purely superficial standpoint, the Panamera looks like the love child of a Cayenne and a 911. Much of this effect is intentional. As Porsche designer Michael Mauer puts it, “designers love challenges, and the [Panamera’s] development goal was that the car be instantly recognizable as a Porsche.” Fittingly, Stuttgart officials make much of the fact that the Pana­mera’s five-door shape is “completely new,” a product of original thinking from one of the most focused marques on the planet, while simultaneously emphasizing the car’s inherent Porsche-ness. (An entire section of the press conference at the Panamera’s European launch was devoted to analyzing the car’s design and how it relates to that of earlier Por­sches.) Frankly, the juxtaposition of the two concepts seems a tad forced. <!-- page break --> Nevertheless, if you believe the company line, Porsche’s direction has never been clearer. Nor has its typically Teu­tonic confidence. In referring to Stutt­gart’s products and business tactics, Berning once said that “anyone who [claims] the company is mediocre fails to appreciate reality.” Dr. Michael Steiner, the Panamera’s technical director, has stated that Porsche “doesn’t believe that the Panamera will out-sell the 911.” And Detlev von Platen, the CEO of PCNA, has stated that although Porsche’s U.S. sales have dropped 30 percent in the past year, the company is “cautiously optimistic” that the economy’s worst will be “over by fall.” The Panamera’s success rides on that prediction. Porsche chose to launch the V8-powered Panamera S, Panamera 4S, and Panamera Turbo before the inevitable hybrid or V6 models, and the spec sheet for even the base Panamera S is a feast of expensive, luxury-market technology. A twin-clutch, seven-speed PDK manumatic, PASM electronically adjustable suspension, and a direct-injected, 4.8-liter, dual-overhead cam V8 are all standard, as are eight-piston (front) and four-piston (rear) aluminum monobloc calipers. The list of available options is a mile long, and it includes everything from PDCC active anti-roll bars and an electronically controlled rear differential lock to adaptive air suspension and a Burmester surround sound system. Not, in other words, the kind of stuff you sell to a world largely on the economic skids. We’ve examined the Panamera’s technical details in these pages before (Excellence August, 2009), but it’s worth reviewing the basics: The 4.8-liter V8 found in the Panamera S, 4S, and Turbo is an evolved version of the one found in the current Cayenne, a lighter, stronger iteration of the same basic concept. Magnesium valve covers, lightweight cam adjusters, a lighter crankshaft, and lighter connecting rods help minimize weight, and a compact crankcase bedplate allows for a remarkably short oil pan (all Panamera V8s use an “integrated dry sump”). In the interest of a lower hood line and more efficient packaging, all-wheel-drive Panameras sport a front driveshaft that passes through the sump — a marked change from Cayenne practice, where the same shaft passes underneath the engine. The 500-bhp, 516-lb-ft Panamera Turbo boasts the same basic engine as its more prosaic (400 bhp/369 lb-ft) S and 4S brethren. Displacement, bore, and stroke are unchanged, and with the sole exception of a dual-length intake manifold — present on the S/4S, absent on the Turbo — and a pair of turbo­chargers, the Panamera’s two V8s could be twins. The Cayenne’s tubular steel exhaust manifolds are missing, having been replaced by a pair of integrated, cast-iron manifolds that incorporate the “hot” half of each turbocharger housing. The Panamera’s front and rear suspension design is somewhat predictable; a double-wishbone front axle is paired with a multilink rear, with both front and rear systems being housed in removable subframes. The S and 4S models are equipped as standard with steel coil springs and Porsche Active Suspension Management, which offers three damper settings. The Panamera Turbo boasts a version of Por­sche’s adaptive air suspension system, which can adjust ride height across a 45-mm range. Eighteen-inch wheels are standard on both the S and 4S, with 19-inch units being fitted as standard to the Turbo. (20-inch wheels are available as an option on all Panameras.) Braking is accomplished by the aforementioned aluminum monobloc calipers and cast-iron rotors. The Turbo is fitted with larger brakes than the S and 4S, but a PCCB carbon-ceramic setup is available on all three models at additional cost. <!-- page break --> Porsche chose to host the Panamera media drive at the stately Schloss Elmau castle near Garmisch-Parten­kirchen, in southern Bavaria, but our trip began on the outskirts of Munich, a few hours away. And even in seen-it-all southern Germany, a parked Panamera draws a lot of attention. Pedestrians stumble off of sidewalks, bus drivers do double-takes, and small children point from the inside of passing cars. For all the attention, you’d think that we were about to tool down the autobahn in the Space Shuttle. Nevertheless, the technology-meets-astonishing-size-meets-spacecraft image is an appropriate one. If the Panamera looks ungainly and stilted in photographs, like a gorilla in an undersized, three-piece suit, then the effect is only amplified in person — the car appears far larger than it really is, a slightly awkward shape crafted with purpose, not aesthetics, at the fore. At first glance, any number of styling details put you off: the overly heavy rear; the 911-mimicking nose; the awkward, bulging, roofline. The Panamera’s bodywork is seemingly consumed with cross purposes — it has the nose-heavy heft and presence that a front-engine sedan requires, and yet it also possesses the rear-biased proportions of a modern 911. The net effect is an odd, distinctly un-Porsche sense of largesse. Happily, the interior is exactly the opposite. In traditional Stuttgart fashion, the Panamera’s insides offer not the slightest bit of wasted space, and apart from a slightly old-school console — the area surrounding the shift lever, with its million-and-one buttons, looks about as modern as the keypad on a Motorola StarTac — everything is contemporary, stylish, and incredibly well-made. The interior reeks of research and emotion, of intelligent thinking and obsessive attention to detail. Everything from the carpet to the headliner feels like the product of a small, dedicated team of engineers, as if someone handed five Weissachians the inside of a Bentley Continental and said, “Make this, but do it at half the price.” The most interesting thing about the Panamera’s interior, however, is how much like a cockpit it feels, regardless of where you’re sitting. The rear seats boast substantial bolstering and tall headrests, and the chunky, full-length center console gives both front and rear passengers the feeling that they’re riding in something special. As you’d expect, given the car’s roofline, rear headroom is nothing short of stratospheric. You could cram an NBA star into the back seat, strap him down, and he’d still have room to wear a hat. A big hat. Of course, none of this would matter if the Panamera drove like a Ford Pinto. Thankfully, it doesn’t. Our journey out of Munich began behind the wheel of a Panamera Turbo; within a few minutes of leaving Porsche’s car park, we were on the autobahn heading south. A few minutes after that, we entered a derestricted zone and sent the large, central tach needle spinning. Let’s get the negatives out of the way first: The steering is a bit overboosted and numb at low speed. PDK is probably the single best twin-clutch gearbox on the market, but it’s no substitute for a good manual ’box and a clutch pedal. The Sport Plus damper setting produces a choppy, fidgety ride on anything other than glassy pavement. Engine and induction noise is a bit too subdued for our tastes; unless you have the windows down and the stereo off, you can barely hear the drivetrain. And the Turbo/4S all-wheel-drive system occasionally binds and clunks at low speed, but only if you crank in significant steering angle. That’s it. Everything else is…well, everything else is fantastic. Sound like hyperbole? It’s not. The Panamera Turbo is an astoundingly competent car, a silent cocoon of speed that launches itself from horizon to horizon with a happy mix of raw drama and stealthy composure. The steering weights up and comes alive at speed, and while it’s not as feelsome as the rack in a 911, it’s nevertheless far better than it has any right to be. Full-throttle starts on slippery surfaces produce a mildly violent launch, the power being shuttled back and forth between the front and rear axles (nominal torque split is a staggering 97-percent rear bias, but up to 100 percent of drive torque can be shuttled to either axle); there’s a bit of wheel hop, a little bit of tail-wagging, and then you’re simply gone. And below 150 mph on smooth pavement, you can safely tool down the road with little more than a pinky on the steering wheel. <!-- page break --> The Turbo’s engine, however, is the biggest charmer — it’s smooth and un­obtrusive at low speed, yet it also offers seamless torque almost anywhere in the rev range. Turbo lag is present but minimal, and triple-digit thrust is simply epic. Regardless of which shift mode you choose, the Panamera’s PDK calibration is essentially spot-on, grabbing the right gear at the right time with minimal delay. The Panamera 4S and S are essentially the same experience, minus a bit of curb weight (the Turbo weighs 4,344 pounds; the 4S, 4,101; the S, 3,969) and with a small amount of added steering feel. All three cars boast quick turn-in, monstrous rear grip, and a danceable, tossable feel that belies their size. Pre­dictably, the S’s steering feel is the best of the lot, its chassis the most nimble and responsive. Regardless of which model you choose, braking ability is fantastic, with the standard iron-rotor brakes hauling the car down repeatedly from absurd speeds with excellent retardation, progressive ABS intervention, and a rock-solid pedal. The $8,840 PCCB option is, as you’d expect, mind-blowingly, impossibly capable, and perhaps the best set of luxury-sedan brakes currently on the market. Unfortunately, and especially when driven back-to-back with the Turbo, the S and 4S are mildly disappointing when it comes to straight-line speed. Both cars boast respectable 0-62 mph times — 5.4 seconds for the S, 5.0 for the 4S — but neither one feels as fast as it is. The naturally aspirated eight sounds throatier and more burbly than its forced-induction sibling, and it revs a bit freer, but it’s saddled with too much weight to provide impressive acceleration. For all intents and purposes, the Pana­mera competes in a model niche that barely exists. Consider the facts: The base Panamera S costs $89,800 and produces 400 bhp. The 4S? $93,800 and 400 bhp, but you get all-wheel-drive. The range-topper, the Panamera Turbo, costs $132,600, produces 500 bhp, and also offers four driven wheels. And no matter what anyone says, none of them have any real competition. Porsche sees the Panamera’s opposition as the usual suspects: Mercedes-Benz’s AMG sedans, the BMW M5, the Audi A6/S6/A8/S8, and the Maserati Quattroporte. This is all well and good, but quite frankly — and we say this having tens of thousands of combined miles in each of the models mentioned above — none of them even come close. The AMG offerings? They’re either far less refined or far too refined, and most of them don’t qualify as truly sporting cars, focusing too little on driver feedback. The Audis? Wonderful cars, all, but somewhat lacking in build quality and steering feel, and their cabins are too isolated. The Quattroporte? The naturally aspirated Panamera S and 4S may not sound as good, but they’re more involving to drive. And the M5, while a worthy effort, simply comes across as a wonderful engine in a staid, complex shell. That, then, is the point. With the Pana­mera, Porsche may not have designed and built a perfect car, but it did do something that none of its competition could do: build, in the best sense of the phrase, a luxury-oriented, four-door sports car. That car may not be perfect — and indeed, from a standpoint of driver involvement and styling, the Panamera is still in need of a bit of fine-tuning — but it’s nevertheless worthy of the badge on its hood. And that, pretty car or not, is all that matters. 2010-02-07T17:42:18-08:00 Porsche’s latest four-door isn’t a dream, a prototype, or an SUV—it’s a low-slung, four-passenger production sedan. We head to Germany to find out how it drives. true 2009 Panamera S, 4S, and Turbo 8 Let’s start off with the obvious: What we have here is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a pretty car. The Porsche Panamera is an imposing car, a car that demands your attention, a heap of impossibly clever engineering stuffed inside a long, low, and unorthodox shape. But it is not pretty. 179 something-new Panamera 19 1 true 2010-03-10T21:40:51-08:00

17 Porsche laid the groundwork for such swaps long ago. Stuttgart first added displacement to its air-cooled flat six for the 1970 model year, when the 1965–69 2.0-liter grew to 2.2 liters on a bore increase. In the quest to build ever faster 911s, however, Por­sche began to increase stroke, as well, creating 2.4-, 2.7-, 3.0-, 3.2-, 3.6-, and 3.8-liter engines between 1972 and 1998. One thing all of them have in common? Their “long-stroke” crankshafts. The first long-stroke 911 crank was the 70.4-mm unit used by the 2.4 (1972), 2.7 (1973), and 3.0 (1974). Then came the 74.4-mm crank used in the 3.2 (1984), followed by the 76.4-mm unit found in the 3.6 (1989) and 3.8 (1993). With so many long-stroke options available, what would compel someone to build a short-stroke 911 engine based on the earliest, 66-mm crankshaft? Build­ing a short-stroke 911 is like thrusting through swinging saloon doors and into a shootout while packing a .22 instead of a Colt 45. That said, there’s something to be said for a .22. Like accuracy. Maybe it’s just me, but the thought of a high-revving, short-stroke six in an early 911 is seductive. Many of the great 911 race cars won on 66-mm cranks, among them the 911R with its high-strung 220-hp 2.0 and the 911 S-Ts with their 2.3s and 2.5s. What short-stroke flat sixes give up in power, they make up for in the way they spin. They seem not just willing but desperate to rev. They’re a little sharper, a little more precise, and a little more responsive than the bigger sixes. Then there’s the sound. A small-bore 911 coming on cam is an audible history of the 911R at Monza and the S-T at the Nür­burg­ring. Call it romanticism if you will, but let me assure you: I’ve never been accused of being a romantic (just ask my wife!). But I am a huge fan of tradition. While considering a short-stroke flat six myself, a unique opportunity to evaluate three different combinations presented itself. Friends were planning a road trip to California and I would have at my disposal several short-stroke 911s. Car number one is my own, a 2.2-liter S with a short-ratio gearbox and a limited-slip diff. Car number two is Curt Egerer’s 1971 911T Targa with an old-school 2.5 and Weber carbs. Car number three is Randy Sten­son’s 1971 911T with a twin-plugged, 2.8-liter beast of an engine. I would spend time driving each on the freeways and back roads of the wild west before meeting early 911 hotshoe Randy Wells at The Streets of Willow. h3. Day 1 1970 911S 2.2 Let me get this out of the way up front: Impartiality is impossible. I love this car! I’ve owned this S for six years and have racked up nearly 15,000 miles on club trips alone. It rarely sits idle during the abbreviated driving season typical of the Midwest, which is nothing new for “Olivia,” as my wife and I call her. The previous owner bought her in the mid-1970s and did a lot of track days and auto­cross­es over his 25-year tenure. So she’s well broken in, much like your first baseball glove or that pair of jeans you can’t bear to part with — or wash. Olivia’s got plenty of rock chips, a few minor oil leaks, and maybe even a stray French fry beneath her seats. <!-- page break --> She was my first 911, so I didn’t know what to expect. I had read that the 2.2S lacked umph at lower revs, so Olivia’s eager, responsive nature was a pleasant surprise. Her powerband is exciting; I look for every opportunity to surpass 4500 rpm and feel the surge up to the redline at 7300. Freeway onramps are my pit out at Le Mans, every corner a rev-matched downshift homage to Tertre Rouge. Over time, more experienced 911 drivers told me there was no way that Olivia was a stock 2.2S; she was too quick! Occasion­ally, I would drive other 2.2Ss and wonder why they didn’t have her punch. While talking with the previous owner, I insisted that something must have been changed in the engine, yet he assured me that the flat six had been rebuilt to factory specs. “But of course you realize she has close-ratio gears?” he asked. So that’s what makes Olivia so much snappier, so much stronger off of low-speed corners. She sports a 904 mainshaft with close-ratio gears in second through fifth. Com­pared to the cost of getting more power from the already efficient S-spec 2.2, a close-ratio gearbox is a modest investment that makes a noticeable difference. Of course, like most modifications, short gears are a compromise. Leaving Ohio with the goal of putting as much of the boring Midwest behind us as possible, the lower fifth and short 225/50R15 rear tires mean I’m cruising at roughly 300 rpm more than most of our crew. The 2.2S doesn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, it seems to find a happy place right around 4300 rpm, well above the speed limit. If my concentration lapses, it goes there, every time. Cop bait? You bet. The short gears mask Olivia’s mere 2.2 liters up to about 100 mph, where aero resistance begins to overwhelm her. Late in the afternoon, on the wide-open expanses of western Missouri, I experiment with acceleration. To go from 60 to 100 mph in fourth takes about 13.5 seconds. Not bad — but not great, either. I decide it’ll be interesting to see how the larger engines in the other 911s stack up. Pulling into our hotel in the little town of Stroud, Oklahoma, my satisfaction with the 2.2S and short gears is reinforced. But like any true gearhead, I can’t shake the feeling that a little more power would be nice. When I finally fall asleep, I’m looking forward to Curt’s 2.5… h3. Day 2 1971 911T 2.5 Day two starts off with a chuckle. Curt is one of these guys who grows restless during long Michigan winters and tweaks his car to break the monotony. This year, the “Gray Wolf” (as he calls it) evolved into a pseudo vintage rally car with steel wheels and auxiliary lights. Part of Curt’s rally motif is a pair of what our group calls “mud flaps” but what he insists are “official rally stone guards.” Taking the good-natured “mud-flap” comments in stride, Curt retired to bed unaware that we’d be applying “Mudflap Girl” decals to his stone guards in the wee hours. Hundreds of Okla­homan miles pass before he discovers our chicanery. Now that Curt’s in on the joke, I boot him out and take the wheel of his hot-rodded T. Much like my car, this 911 was owned by a true enthusiast for nearly 25 years. A second similarity is that our engines were rebuilt “back in the day” by the head engine guy at Stoddard, Fred Truman. <!-- page break --> While my 911S was rebuilt to factory specs, the Gray Wolf’s previous owner wanted more power. In 1979, there were few choices for larger pistons and cylinders. A common up­grade was to replace the 87-mm pistons and cylinders with 90-mm Mahles as used in the Carrera RS 2.7. With the 66-mm crank, this yielded a displacement of just over 2.5 liters. The downside is that the resulting compression ratio is typically 7.5:1. Tru­man claimed 8.1:1, which is still mild. Curt has found an upside: He typically uses the cheapest gas he can find. 87 octane is the norm, which makes fill-ups a bit more palatable. Curt jokes that he’d buy 85 if they sold it at the pump. Pulling onto the freeway, I quickly settle into a groove in the Gray Wolf. With­out question, there’s more torque on tap. Useful torque is available lower in the rpm range and less effort is required to gain similar speed. With Solex cams and an S distributor replacing the original T items, the 2.5 can be spun to 7300 rpm, although that might be a questionable policy considering that the original, non-counterweighted crankshaft still resides within the magnesium case. Passing through Amarillo, Texas and switching from Interstate to more scenic four-lane state routes towards New Mexico, I struggle with how to describe the 2.5. It makes more power and feels stronger than the 2.2S, but the increases are subtle. It’s faster, but not a lot faster. Weight isn’t a factor; due to its lightweight seats and trim, this 2,300-pound T Targa is only 25 pounds heavier than my S coupe. If you swapped its custom 15x6.5-inch steel wheels for Fuchs and dropped the “rally bits,” they’d be dead even. Repeating the same fourth-gear pull I did in the 2.2 S, the 2.5 is only about half a second faster from 60 to 100 mph. The 2.5 is actually slower for the first few seconds due to its stock gearing. But, as the century mark nears, 2.5 surpasses 2.2. The extra torque is most noticeable as the 2.5 easily overcomes aero drag. All up, the 2.5 feels like a T (which it is) with more power across the board (which it has). The T was always touted as the more comfortable grand touring car, requiring less work and fewer shifts. The problem with 911Ts is that they cry out for more power. This 2.5 fixes that but retains the manners of a 2.2 T. Curt, when asked to describe what he likes about the combo as well as what he would change, thinks for a moment. “If I ever blow this engine up,” he says, “I will rebuild it exactly as it is, except I will bump the compression to 9 or 9.5:1. That would make it just a bit more responsive. But honestly, I don’t need more power… it’s fast enough as is!” 115,000 miles have passed beneath the tires of the Gray Wolf since the 2.5 was built, so it will need to be freshened again at some point. Until then, Curt is satisfied. Unfortunately, satisfaction with the power I have is one of those life-lessons I’ve never been able to learn. I’m eager to drive the 2.8 to see what a little more displacement and a lot more compression feel like! Tomorrow, I’ll do just that. h3. Day 3 1971 911T 2.8 Our third day begins with breakfast at a small Mexican restaurant on the edge of Ruidoso, New Mexico. Curiously, it’s called the “All-American Diner.” As I chew on what may be the finest breakfast burrito ever constructed, I’m thinking about the 2.8-liter, twin-plug beast in the parking lot. I soon discover that it’s easier to separate a bear cub from its mother than it is to separate the keys from Ran­dy’s fist. It’s not that he’s afraid to let me drive, it’s just that this is the first real trip Randy has done with the 2.8 and he’s having too much fun in the car. I’m now able to sympathize with all the mothers who have had to pry their child off of the mechanical pony outside of Kmart! The kicking, the screaming, the begging — by both parties. It’s quite embarrassing, actually. Taking a page from the parental handbook, I back off, knowing that my adversary will become more cooperative when he gets sleepy. It works. Somewhere in northern Arizona, I convince Randy he could use some rest. <!-- page break --> This 16,000-kilometer 911T is unique, having been delivered new to its German owner with many S options. When the ’73 RS was unveiled, the buyer decided he would take his 911 back to the dealer to have as many ’73 RS 2.7 parts retrofitted as possible. The RS influence is evident inside: the smooth vinyl dash trim, door panels, and black headliner. The original Recaro fiberglass buckets have been replaced for this trip with later, more comfortable Recaro touring seats. I’m not thinking about seats, though. I’m thinking about the 2.8. Starting on an aluminum Turbo case, Henry at Supertec Perfor­mance combined a 66-mm crank with high-compression 95-mm pistons and cylinders to come up with 2807 cc of high-winding flat-six fury. Does the combination still exhibit the small-bore passion I’ve been preaching? Well, perhaps not quite like the 2.2 or 2.5, but it pairs short-stroke character with epic, crushing power! Picture Godzilla with a dozen roses for Mrs. Zilla in one fist while clutching and shaking a Tokyo metro bus in the other. And much like Godzilla, I’m crushing small towns beneath me while deepening my love — or is it lust? — for this engine combo. Prior to this drive, the idea of twisting an engine conceived nearly 50 years ago to 8000+ rpm was disconcerting. I had already decided that any engine ever financed by my wallet would remain safely in the 7300-rpm range. What an epiphany then to mash the throttle in this 911 and watch the tach point to 8 before I can even contemplate what I’ve done. In most cases, an engine will communicate what it’s willing to do and where its comfort zone is. In this case, I feel no weird vibes from the 2.8 as I repeatedly shift at eight grand. And the power… Giggling like a prepubescent schoolgirl, I do 60–100 mph in just 8.5 seconds, a full five seconds quicker than in my 2.2. The 2.8’s punch is especially impressive because the five-speed 901 it’s hooked up to has standard 1971 gearing. The fabulous torque of the 2.8 pulls each ratio effortlessly. Thanks to some fiberglass and carbon-fiber panels, this 2,100-pound 911 is 175 pounds lighter than my car, but it’s also stifled by a factory 2.2-liter airbox and SSI heat exchangers that are two tips of the hat towards comfort. A pair of large-tube headers might bump horsepower up by 10 percent or so, but probably only in the upper reaches. While more displacement means more horsepower, more compression makes for a more responsive engine. You don’t want to go overboard when it comes to compression, though. This 2.8 is running a compression ratio of 10.1:1 — the outer limit of safety if you want to log a lot of road miles without worrying about the quality of the “premium” fuel available in cosmopolitan towns such as Bovina, Texas and Pie Town, New Mexico. I’d say Randy got this combo exactly right. It generates a torrent of usable power, yet is tractable at all speeds. If I didn’t know better, I’d believe a modern EFI system is responsible for the driveability. In reality, the twin-plug ignition system and the Supertec-modified mechanical fuel injection get the credit. We’ve experienced temperatures ranging from near freezing in the mountains to 100º+ F crossing the Mojave, with elevations ranging from sea level to nearly 10,000 feet. Not once have I noticed a cough or felt a flat spot. But, like any system devoid of computers to handle the air-fuel mixture, the high altitudes mean rich running. Even so, the 2.8 took it in stride. <!-- page break --> Frankly, there’s just no hair in this cake. Only thing is, it’s one painfully expensive cake! 95-mm cylinders like expensive aluminum 911 Turbo crankcase halves, while the twin-plug heads and distributor, custom Mahle pistons and cylinders, custom-bored throttle bodies, and specially calibrated MFI pump help make this a $25,000+ 911 engine… h3. The Verdict Without a doubt, the 2.8 is the most fun to drive. That said, people who can and will cut a check for an engine that costs more than the car it’s going into are few and far between. So let’s look at the other choices on the menu. Certainly, the 2.2S is a gem among production 911 engines — and a close-ratio gearbox makes it that much better. But the cost to build a 2.2S is similar to (or more than) the cost to build a comparable 2.5. In this case, then, I believe that bigger is indeed better. Much as I love the 2.8, three days in these three cars have told me that the smart pick is somewhere in the middle. Curt’s 2.5 with the compression, twin-plug heads, and MFI of Randy’s car plus a close-ratio gearbox would add up to a package that would be exciting to drive and one that could be accomplished on a reasonable budget. So what about compression? First, carefully consider the kind of fuel you’ll be running. If you want to play it safe, 9.5:1 will get you 200 hp depending on cam­shafts, head work, and redline. Bumping the compression to 10.5:1 or so might add another 10–15 percent peak horsepower, but you’re pushing the limits of pump gas. If you get aggressive with cams, port sizes, and compression, 100 horsepower per liter is plausible — but you may end up with more of a racing engine than one suited to the street. There are other things to consider, like ignition and induction. A twin-plug setup will improve driveability and is a good idea if you’re leaning towards a hotter build. As for fuel injection? Without a doubt, carbs tend to be cheaper. Plus, MFI will require modifications to work with a larger-than-stock, high-compression, high-winding engine — mods that can add thousands of dollars to the initial purchase price of a complete MFI system. When all is said and done, however, a calibrated MFI system will typically make more power than carbs, and MFI is sexy! So, for my dream engine, I will save for a few more months and splurge on MFI. One last piece of advice: Consider a good set of connecting rods if you’re going to twist the engine past 7300 rpm. Factory rods carefully inspected and fitted with high-tensile hardware can operate north of 8000 rpm on a limited basis, but they will fail if repeatedly exposed to high rpm. It may take a while, but it’s only a matter of time. And, once you’ve made the five-figure investment to build a 911 engine, a set of Carrillo or LN Engineer­ing rods are cheap insurance against catastrophic rod failure at 8000+ rpm. So will you take the easy road and go with a long-stroke 3.0, 3.2, or 3.6? Or will you take the road less traveled lately and build a short-stroke? If 8000 rpm sounds good to you, just remem­­ber that Billy the Kid and Wild Bill Hickok were famous because they held the fastest — not the biggest — guns in the West! 2010-02-14T19:17:02-08:00 In search of the small-bore sweet spot, we sample three early 911s with 2.2, 2.5, and 2.8 liters of displacement true Early short-stroke 911 shootout 29 Don’t bring a knife to a gunfight.” When talking cars, that bit of wisdom translates roughly as “there’s no replacement for displacement.” Early 911 hot-rodders tend to agree, and they’ve been reaching for bigger guns for a long time now. The result is a rash of long-hood 911s with 3.6- and 3.8-liter flat sixes. 179 short-stroke-shootout 17 2 true 2010-02-14T19:25:45-08:00