Tested: 1987 Porsche 911 Turbo Cabriolet

From the September 1987 issue of Car and Driver.

The road to Payson. Grand, sweeping arcs through the sagebrush. A fresh Arizona morning, warm and bright, the sun’s anger still hours away. The dirty lumps on the horizon are the Mazatzal Mountains, far distant for a normal machine. But at 130 mph, in a tiny white Porsche pellet, time and space are compressed by quantum factors. On the road to Payson, normal measurements do not apply.

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We are trying to be rational. This is, after all, a road test. But this machine defies reason. How does one evaluate coldly and objectively the latest offering from the holy Stuttgart Zuffenhausen-Weissach connection? How does one take the measure of the newest in a series of automotive icons? The Porsche factory has been building variations on the 911 theme for 22 years now, and we in the automotive press have always responded reverently. In April 1965 this magazine joined in the worldwide chorus of huzzahs for the original 911. “No contest,” we cheered. “This is the Porsche to end all Porsches—rather, to start a whole new generation of Porsches. Porsche’s new 911 model is unquestionably the finest Porsche ever built. More than that, it’s one of the best Gran Turismo cars in the world, certainly among the top three or four.”

And so it has gone for nearly a quarter of a century-praise upon hosanna for the Beetlesque two-plus-two with the boxer six-cylinder hung out behind its rear wheels. The first edition arrived in the U.S.A. with 148 SAE gross horsepower and a $6490 price tag. The car we are aiming at Payson on this crystalline Arizona morning kicks out 282 SAE net horses and costs just a few bucks over $106,000. Inflation, you know.

The faithful can recite chapter and verse about the 911’s street, rally-course, and racetrack descendants. The 912, the 930, the 934, the 935, the Carrera RSR, the vaunted 959/961—all trace their lineage directly to the original 911. Even the powerplants of several great Porsche sports racers-the 904/6, the 906, the 936—and the current 956/962 panzers bear the mark of the 911 six. The engine heritage of the enterprise that dates back to December 1, 1930—to the dawn of Dr. ing. h.c. Ferdinand Porsche GmbH, Konstruktionsbürofür Motoren- und Fahrzeugbau—claims a number of wonderful fours, eights, and even the awesome 917 twelves, but truly at the center of the legend is the air-cooled flat six that was born with the 911.

The car we are arrowing across the desert today was born in part of pride, in part of necessity. It is officially known as the 911 Turbo Cabriolet Slant Nose, a rather inelegant appellation for a model distinguished by a front end that is one graceful, unbroken, fender-to-fender sweep. (In Germany the nose is called Flachbau, or “flat profile.”) Its bloodline is traceable to 1974, when Porsche developed the 911 Turbo to quality its 934 and 935 for Group 4 and Group 5 racing. FIA homologation required a production run of 400 cars within 24 months—but the Turbo’s public appeal so far exceeded expectations that more than 1300 examples were sold within the two-year period. The nose job arrived during the 1976 season: although the street Turbos all had conventional 911 front ends, Porsche managed to slip a 935 with a new leading edge through a loophole in the Group 5 rules. Lopping off the traditional fenders and headlamps produced the now-fabled slant-nose shape, which contributed much more front downforce.

The factory ceased 935 production two years later, but others stepped into the breach. The Cologne custom shop of Erwin and Manfred Kremer built several variations, including the K3 in which Klaus Ludwig and the now-banished Whittington brothers won the 1979 Le Mans 24 Hours (C/D, March 1980). It was a short step to modifying production 911 Turbos with bodywork that resembled the 935 racer’s, and soon a number of German custom houses, including now-defunct B+B, were cranking out streetable replicas. Various American specialists, including Norris/Rayburn and Dick Thorpe, performed similar face lifts.

By 1981 it was painfully clear that Stuttgart was forfeiting a rollicking good business to the aftermarket. Peter Schutz, Porsche’s new president, decided to get some of it back by converting a corner of the competition department into a customizing center for production cars. Officially, the new department was called Porsche Exclusive; unofficially, and more aptly, it has become known as the Sonderwunsch (special wish) department. Ever since, Porsche has been in the custom biz with a vengeance, handcrafting mega-dollar conversions for upscale customers.

There have been few Sonderwunsch customers on these shores, however, because from 1980 to 1985 the Turbo was not certified for U.S. sale. Naturally, the gray market and a number of special fabricators have taken up the slack. For example, Indy-car driver Derek Daly and partner John Blackburn set up shop in Indianapolis early last year to build what are essentially duplicates of the Sonderwunsch slant-nose models.

Now, with the arrival in the U.S. of the factory nose-job cars, Porsche has taken a giant step beyond the Sonderwunsch department—and the gray market. The car you see on these pages is the first of perhaps twenty Turbo Cabriolet Slant-Noses destined for the U.S. this year. (The factory coupling of the turbo motor and the convertible body style is new this year as well.) The sleek nose is also available on the hardtop coupe, with either the turbo or the normally aspirated engine. It should be noted, however, that the shift from the wish department to regular production is not exactly a cost-saving move. The price for the ski-slope nose is $23,826—plus the car.

And what, you might ask, do you get for your 24 grand? One of the zoomiest, most distinctive shapes in automotive history. More specifically, your new 911 is outfitted with a collection of beautifully fabricated body panels: front fenders adorned with sexy louvers behind pop-up headlights; a front air dam; doorsill extensions; and rear fenders with gaping, slotted air intakes for cooling the rear discs. Needless to say, the fit and finish are comparable to a Fabergé egg’s.

Our test car, whistling and whining its way toward Payson, is on loan from Steve Knappenberger, the proprietor of Scottsdale Porsche+Audi. Knappenberger is an authentic car freak, having been devoted to Porsches for years before he left the ice-cream business to open what has become one of the most respected and advanced Porsche facilities in the nation. Soon our Slant Nose will be delivered to its well-heeled buyer, who, as a combatant in the Phoenix street wars, requested a numerically higher final-drive ratio-thus amplifying the differences between the Porsches of Germany, where top speed is the priority, and those of the U.S., where the lust for high velocities is sublimated by a search for bottom-end thrust. In any case, this machine, with a final-drive ratio of 5.13:1 (stock is 4.22: 1), pounces from 0 to 60 mph in 4.9 seconds, runs the quarter-mile in 13.5 seconds at 102 mph, and, despite the revised final-drive, reaches 150 mph at its 6700-rpm redline.

The all-white Turbo is a riveting sight, even in Porsche-weary Scottsdale. No other automobile in the world resembles it. And few feel so good. Like all current 911s, the Slant Nose feels so taut as to give one the impression that the entire vehicle was machined from a single billet of steel. (To those who sniff that such rigidity ought to be expected of a car costing more than a hundred grand, we recommend a ride in a Countach or a Rolls-Royce.)

As we rip along with the top down, the wonderful noises of the engine and the transmission make the stereo a redundancy. Why is it that only great automobiles like Porsches and Ferraris still offer such magical mechanical sounds? The growls and the shrill whoops issuing from the valvetrain, the engine fan, the gearbox, and, best of all, the KKK turbocharger combine into a sonic reminder of all the great Porsche designs, from the legendary Auto Unions to the 356s, from the 917s to the current 961s. Such mechanical harmony is a result of automotive tradition; it simply cannot be obtained in the short term, no matter how determined the effort.

And it never comes cheap.

Our test car’s interior is traditional Porsche; there is very little in the cockpit to distinguish the Turbo Cabrio Slant Nose from a standard-issue 911 . The instruments are straightforward (no digital nonsense here), and the seats, with multiple power adjustments, border on perfection. A special fillip for the jaded is a one-touch power top that automatically latches and unlatches against the windshield frame. In all, elegantly functional and neat, and not in the least bit gaudy.

It is one thing to drop oneself behind the wheel of a Ford Taurus or a Honda Accord and attempt to make rational judgments about the silkiness of the shift linkage or the ergonomics of the ashtray. This is appropriate in the evaluation of workaday conveyances. To most people, they are like clothes—expected to be comfortable, versatile, and machine-washable. And attractive, of course, though not too conspicuous. Steely-eyed reason is demanded of the road tester.

But dealing with a 22-year-old two-plus-two legend is different. Can you imagine what the coneheads at Consumer Reports might say? Could Joan Claybrook comprehend an open sports car that has no roll bar, air bag, or ABS but develops enough bhp to power McLean, Virginia? Would Clarence Ditlow risk early death in such a car? Would the Reverend Ralph even dare to plant an army-surplus boot on its mouton carpeting?

We could carp about the turbo lag, we suppose: it’s still inordinately lengthy. But who really cares? This is a Porsche Turbo, and that failing is part of the package. So what if, off-boost at 60 mph and 2700 rpm, the car is a mouse? At 80 and 3600, it will blow your Ray-Bans away!

Oh, and about those pedals: yes, you’ll find them poorly positioned for heel-and-toe work. But this has been a sin of the 911 since day one. If you don’t like it, spend your money on nine Integras. You say the little DOT-mandated brake light periscoping out of the rear deck looks stupid? Tell it to Liz Dole.

And then there is the gearbox: Imagine, a gold-plated, world-class sports car in this day and age with a piddling four-speed! Hell, every other car on the globe, even the Hyundai Excel and the Subaru Justy, offers five forward gears. So where do those arrogant patricians from Zuffenhausen get off with one fewer? The answer is that the normal 911 fiver won’t handle the torque of the turbo (a nearly unstoppable 278 pound-feet at 4000 rpm), and Porsche’s solution is to use a beefier four-speed . So who really needs five, anyway? Once into the boost, you can weld the Slant Nose into fourth and still suck the headlights out of almost anything else on the road.

And then, of course, there is the infamous oversteer. But in Steve Knappenberger’s car, we notice a strong tendency for the front tires to slide wide in a bend; we observe only the meekest hint of oversteer. And when the tail does get loose, the chassis broadcasts the signals loud and clear, and simply planting our right foot hard on the throttle puts an immediate end to the high jinks. The wrong thing to do in such circumstances is to lift off. We try this once for the sake of experimentation and taste the thrill of an errant tail; but keeping it in check is no problem at all. We can only conclude that the 911 Turbo no longer deserves its reputation for oversteer. Just keep in mind that 911 s are high-performance automobiles that demand high performance skills at the wheel.

We don’t mean to imply that, in Turbo Cabriolet Slant Nose form, the 911 is any more reasonable than it ever was. Nor do we deny that it is a very old warhorse and yet it never seems to age like a normal car. Annual refinements, visual tricks, and new permutations keep the 911 in a class of one. A hundred-grand window sticker by no means guarantees perfection, but it does assure you of the most potent dose ever of the Porsche essence: fearsome speed and thoroughbred sounds in a back-road dance partner that you will never forget. What we said 22 years ago still applies on the road to Payson: “This is the Porsche to end all Porsches.” At least until the next one.

Counterpoints

Peter Schutz, Porsche’s president, has on several occasions confessed that he has a soft spot in his heart for what he calls the “four-wheeled motorcycle”: a car that delivers the driving fun of a crotch rocket. When I drove the new 911 Turbo Cabriolet Slant Nose, I realized just how serious Mr. Schutz is about delivering his pet project to Porsche customers.

The 911 is an ancient and occasionally creaky design, but this latest variant delivers a full measure of motorcycle-grade giddiness. Like a hot bike, it bombards the senses: the pavement flashes by mere inches ahead of your toes, the wind tugs at your hair, and your eardrums are serenaded with pure motor music. The Porsche symphony—the clank of cam chains, the whir of the cooling fan, the whine of turbine wheels, and the snap and crackle of a feisty exhaust—has never been better, so you needn’t fret much over an in-dash entertainment system. The 911 Turbo Cabriolet totally immerses its driver and one lucky guest in the act of top-down, boost-up, bugs-in-the-teeth motoring. And best of all, no kickstand is needed for parking. —Don Sherman

With the new Cabriolet Slant Nose model, the Porsche 911 Turbo has well and truly moved into the uppermost ranks of exoticars. The 911 Turbo has always had supercar performance, but this new version also has the true supercar’s six-digit price tag-necessary to keep its numbers low and its fantasy quotient sky-high. And its voluptuous lines and topless body will catch the eye of even the most car-indifferent observer, while the superb quality of its construction makes it clear that it’s no back-yard special.

Unfortunately, this new Porsche also shares the quirky nature of true exotics. Its steering has pronounced understeer, its shift linkage fights your every move, and its engine feels positively slothful unless you stomp on its throttle and whip its revs into a frenzy. Such peculiarities are sometimes excused as elements of distinctive character. But when a car has beautiful styling, pavement-ripping performance, and superb quality, I don’t see why it needs serious flaws to be distinctive. —Csaba Csere

The durability of the 911 is nothing short of amazing. Long after nearly every other car of its age has faded from the marketplace, it continues to tantalize, inflame passions, and generally make life hard for anything that dares to challenge its position at the top of the sports-car heap. And the higher its price rises, the stronger its sales get. Year after year, the well-heeled die-hards line up to tilt the trade imbalance even further, despite the fact that the 911’s interior still looks like something out of the fifties, the bottom-hinged pedals originated before the war, the shifter is as graceful as a mop handle, and the engine, especially with the top down, makes enough noise to compete with a jet dragster. So what do you get for your money? Most people, including Porsche, would say purity.

If you want ergonomics and a better interior layout, go look at a 944. The 911 is for—well, for the 911 guy who’s as true to his code as a Buddhist. If you can’t take it, take a walk. Apparently enough people with enough money aren’t walking, and as long as they’re around, the 911 will live on. —Tony Assenza

Source: Reviews - aranddriver.com