On Wheels by Brooks Peterson, Corpus Christi Caller-Times auto

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On Wheels by Brooks Peterson

Saturday, May 26, 2001

World class opportunity

Visit to speedway includes rare sampling of Porsches, hot laps with pro driver

Brooks Peterson/Caller-Times

The Porsche 911 Turbo screams along a straightaway at the Texas Motor Speedway. Two were available - one with a 5-speed automatic transmission, the other with a 6-speed manual, powered by a 415-hp, 3.6- liter version of the boxer six.

Since I first got into motoring journalism here, I have made the acquaintance of a staggering variety of vehicles. Over the years, though, one marque has, for whatever reason, proved elusive: In the 14 years I've been cadging cars, the nice out-of-town operators who send vehicles this way have never, ever sent me a Porsche.
   But there is a certain sublime symmetry in the affairs of hairless apes. Or to put it another way: Hang around long enough and your number will come up.
   Sure enough, a few weeks back came an electrifyin' offer: Porsche Cars North America requested the pleasure of my company at a little soiree at the Texas Motor Speedway in mid-April. A little band of auto scribes, myself included, would be given the opportunity to get up close and personal with the 2001 Porsche line.
   Might I be interested?
   I allowed as how I might be able to squeeze them in . . .

Contributed photo

Richard Spenard (right) and Brooks Peterson take a break in the action. Spenard is a French Canadian race car driver.

   Now, you should know that we have Ethics at this establishment, so there was no question of my accepting PCNA's handsome offer of transportation, accommodations, and so forth. No indeed. Instead, on the appointed date, I poured myself into my son's Mitsubishi Eclipse (darn fine road car, by the way) and drove through the wee hours to scenic Roanoke, just north of Fort Worth, home of the speedway, where I scored about four hours' sleep and made my way to the festivities.
   On arrival at TMS, one of the big questions in the back of my mind was quickly addressed by the Porschefolk in attendance: We would not be driving on the big banked oval (which would have been downright silly, not to mention dangerous due to the presence of NASCAR wannabes circling the track as part of a Richard-Petty-for-a-Day program), but on a sports-car course set up on the infield.
   Jake with me.
   Sensibly, Porsche had no intention of turning over five of its achingly gorgeous, dauntingly pricey machines to a bunch of ham-fisted yahoos without supervision. We were to have keepers - er, instructors.
   Legends, yet

Brooks Peterson/Caller-Times

The interior of a Porsche Boxster is snug. The glass along the back reduces wind buffeting for passengers when the top is down. It is more accessible, price-wise and otherwise, than other models in the Porsche line.

   Would you believe living legends? Hurley Haywood, The Man in endurance racing (three Le Mans victories, five at the 24 Hours of Le Mans); Doc Bundy, all-everything Porsche racer . . .
   This of course raised an issue: In addition to not breaking the cars, I would have to do all in my power to avoid embarrassing myself before the masters. Ouch.
   (One of the points of interest in our orientation was Porsche's no-helmets policy: It seems that, for whatever reason, helmeted amateurs are more prone to hero-driver fantasies - up to and including the dreaded "red mist" - than are al-fresco drivers. Interesting, no?)
   Vehicle lineup
   Then it was off to the paddock, where a mouth-watering array of sportin' vehicles awaited us:

A silver Boxster roadster (base: $42,100), a mid-engine design with a 217-hp 2.7-liter horizontally-opposed (or "boxer") six.

A yellow Boxster S ($50,200), a muscled-up version of the above, with a 3.2-liter six good for 250 hp.

A forest-green rear-drive 911 Carrera Cabriolet ($76,000), propelled by a 300-hp 3.4-liter boxer six.

A pair of merely awesome, Earth-shaking, fantasy-inducing, status-elevating all-wheel-drive 911 Turbo coupes - one with the Tiptronic 5-speed automatic trans ($114,420), the other a bargain-rack special with the 6-speed manual ($111,000) - powered by a 415-hp twin-turbo 3.6-liter version of the boxer six.
I have not mentioned the prices of the last three vehicles. I have managed to put that out of mind. Let's just say that if you need to ask . . .
Different animals

Brooks Peterson/Caller-Times

A Porsche 911 Carrera Cabriolet heads out for laps around the infield course at the Texas Motor Speedway. The rear-drive 911 at the speedway is priced at $76,000. It is propelled by a 300-hp 3.4-liter boxer six.

   In case you haven't been keeping up with Porsche lore, you should know that there is a very clear delineation between the Boxster, the new kid in the lineup, and the legendary 911, which has been around in one form or another since 1965.
   The 911 in its various incarnations is the true, enduring and timeless bearer of the Porsche flame. Thus, you have your boxer engine out behind the rear axle where God and Dr. Porsche intended it to be.
   (Alas, Porsche went to a water-cooled design a while back - but some compromises must be made.)
   Handling improvements
   Another change to which only a fanatical purist would object is the steady improvement of Porsche handling over the decades.
   Early on, the rear-engine design could be conducive to some, er, eccentric behavior: for instance, a tendency for the rear end to come up and take a look should you suddenly lift off the throttle in a turn. Stuff like that.
   These days, however, you really have to be a total goofball to induce that sort of thing. Driving at reasonable or unreasonable speeds, your 911 will cling to the road with Velcro-like tenacity: predictable, but far from boring.
   King of the road
   Whether you spring for the naturally aspirated Carrera (in 2WD or all-wheel-drive) or the soul-shredding Turbo, you will be king of the road, with enough power at your disposal to make any annoyances disappear from the rear-view mirror with a nudge on the accelerator.
   The 2WD Carrera Cabrio, getting through life with 300 horses, had prodigious punch, and its handling showed off to perfect advantage all the work Porsche has put into making the car's over-the-road comportment at once predictable and exhilaratin'.
   The Turbo, now . . . oh, my. Whether you're a card-carrying Porschephile or a clueless goober from the sticks, this vehicle will Rock Your World. Put your foot in it, and the Turbo doesn't lunge - it explodes (in the most genteel fashion imaginable, of course). And while I find it deeply humbling to admit it, that Tiptronic trans - which is to conventional automatic transmissions what IBM's Big Blue is to an abacus - can be a deeply comforting presence when you're trying to get up close and personal with the Turbo. This transmission is amazing - not just smart but subtle, anticipating not only your wishes but your needs. One less thing to worry about as you set up for that next chicane . . .
   More accessible
   The Boxster, for its part, is obviously more accessible, price-wise and otherwise. It's every inch - er, centimeter - a Porsche, but at the same time it's a bit more accommodating somehow, more (dare one suggest it?) light-hearted. Perhaps the mid-engine format gives the car a slightly less exotic (and thus more user-friendly) feel.
   And consider this: If you're not sure you're ready for a relationship with a 911 at this point, the Boxster would be a perfect choice to help you make the transition to the senior line.
   Through all my circuits of the twisty little test track, my companion was Richard Spenard, a French Canadian racer with credentials that stretch from here to there, and a race-driving instructor who numbers among his graduates Jacques Villeneuve, merely one of the pre-eminent Formula 1 drivers of the era.
   Avoiding blunders
   Besides helping me avoid massively embarrassing blunders that would have inflicted damage on me, my colleagues and/or the cars (not necessarily in order of importance), M. Spenard exploded forever the old canard about the excitable Frenchman.
   Utterly relaxed as I flailed about the course, he would murmur approval on those occasions when I negotiated an S-curve smoothly; and when the need arose he would simply reach over, grasp the wheel and help steer the car on the right line.
   As I babbled apologies after particularly egregious errors, my host would smile and say, "I have seen much worse."
   Well, that's something.
   Time for Hot Laps
   After each of us had had a turn behind the wheel of each of the five cars, it was time for Hot Laps.
   Can you say "Hot Laps?"
   Hot Laps is the pros going out on the course and showing us how real drivers get it done.
   Would any of us like to ride along? Why, shore, pardner. Thus, I found myself with another luminary, David Murry (rhymes, needless to say, with "hurry"), who has snagged any number of racing championships and in '98 was a Porsche factory driver at Le Mans.
   Where most of us journalists (aside from some hot-shoes) had exercised a modicum of restraint, my new friend attacked the track, hitting 115 mph on the short straight leading to a 180-degree turn, then SLAMMING on the brakes before powering through it.
   Some advice
   A word of advice: In such situations, always keep your eyes focused on something. Failure to do so will turn you into a seriously Queasy Rider.
   Also: You might want to work on those neck muscles - as odd crackling noises from that vicinity remind me to this day.
   Would I do it again? In a nano-second - even the 350-mile drive and the four hours of sleep. Who knows? Maybe I'd nail a few more apexes. I mean, when Porsche comes to shove . . .
   It could happen.