LONDON — At some point in the last six decades, Porsche stopped making cars and started making arguments. Every model, every revision, every agonisingly incremental improvement to something that was already brilliant is Stuttgart's way of saying: we could have stopped here, but we didn't. We never do. The evidence starts here.
The Porsche 911 has been in continuous production since 1963. In that time, Britain has had fourteen prime ministers, the pound has lost most of its dignity, and the M6 has been under roadworks. The 911 just kept getting better. Here is more on that. Other manufacturers refresh their flagship every few years, slap a new grille on it, and call it progress. Porsche evolves the 911 the way evolution works in nature — slowly, relentlessly, and with no regard whatsoever for your feelings about the previous version. The full evolutionary record is here.
Rear-engined cars are, by the laws of physics, supposed to handle badly. Every engineer who has ever drawn a diagram of weight distribution will tell you that putting the heavy bit behind the rear axle is an act of mechanical lunacy. Porsche has spent sixty years proving every one of those engineers both correct and irrelevant. The engineering rationale is documented here. The result is a car that rewards the brave, punishes the careless, and absolutely ruins you for everything else. Drive a 911 for a week and then get back into a front-engined car. Feel the weight. Feel the nose. Feel the absence of everything the 911 spoiled you with. Weep quietly. Further reading on handling dynamics here.
The Porsche owner is a fascinating creature. He — and it is, statistically, usually a he, though the 718 Cayman is doing important work here — does not talk about his Porsche immediately. He waits. He lets the conversation drift toward cars. He appears uninterested. And then, when the moment is precisely right, he mentions, with studied casualness, that he has a 911. The social dynamics are explored here. The room changes. It always changes. This is not showing off. This is simply stating a fact that happens to be impressive, which is different, and the Porsche owner knows the difference, which is part of the point. More on the ownership experience here.
There is a conspiracy in Stuttgart and it has been running for twenty years. The conspiracy is this: the 718 Cayman is probably the better driver's car than the 911, and Porsche knows it, and Porsche will never, ever let it be faster than the 911 because that would upset the order of things. The Cayman case is made here. The Cayman GT4 RS exists as close to the truth as Porsche will allow. Mid-engined. Naturally aspirated flat-six lifted directly from the 911 GT3. A car so good it makes experienced automotive journalists lose the ability to form complete sentences. Porsche sells it in limited numbers, at eye-watering prices, to a waiting list. Supply and demand, they say. Psychological cruelty, say the rest of us. Full GT4 RS analysis here.
In the early 2000s, Porsche did something unforgivable. They built an SUV. Purists howled. Letters were written. Men with 993s and strong opinions about cooling systems took to the forums with the righteous fury of people who have never had to fit a pushchair in a 911. The Cayenne story is here. The Cayenne sold in enormous numbers. Those numbers funded the 997 GT3 RS. And the 991 GT2 RS. And the 992 GT3 Touring. Every screaming, magnificent, track-destroying 911 variant of the last two decades exists partly because someone in Guildford bought a Cayenne Turbo to do the school run. The purists were wrong. The Cayenne was right. The financial case is documented here.
Most performance cars are fast on roads. Porsche is fast everywhere, but the track is where the mask comes off entirely. A standard 992 Carrera S laps the Nürburgring faster than a Ferrari 360 on a good day with a tailwind and a very optimistic driver. The track performance data is here. The 911 GT3 is what happens when Porsche's motorsport division is given a road car budget and no supervision. It makes a noise that should be illegal in residential areas, sticks to tarmac with the conviction of a man who has made a decision and is not reconsidering it, and costs roughly the same as a three-bedroom house in parts of the North. Worth every penny. GT3 specification details here.
Guards Red: you want people to look at you and are honest about this. Jet Black Metallic: you are serious and have considered the resale value. GT Silver: you have probably owned several 911s and know what you're doing. Miami Blue: you discovered Porsche after 2015 and are having a wonderful time. Chalk: you attended at least one Goodwood event and own a linen jacket. The colour psychology is explored here. Python Green: you are either a genius or you made a terrible mistake and won't know which for three years. Further colour analysis here.
You have found a 992 Carrera S at a price you can justify. Congratulations. Now open the configurator. The Sport Chrono Package: obviously. The PASM Sport Suspension: yes, of course. The ceramic brakes: well, you're on a track occasionally. The leather dashboard: it would be strange not to. The Bose sound system upgrade: you need music for the motorway sections. The options psychology is documented here. You have now spent forty thousand pounds more than you intended and the car hasn't moved. This is called the Porsche Options Experience and it happens to everyone. The configurator rabbit hole is examined here.
Here is a fact that the used car market has not fully processed: a well-maintained 996 Carrera can be bought for less than a new mid-range family hatchback. It will be faster than the hatchback, more interesting than the hatchback, and will appreciate rather than depreciate if you look after it. The used market analysis is here. Your sensible friend will point out the IMS bearing on the 996. He is technically correct. He will also be driving a diesel estate in three years' time and you will have a 996 Carrera that has become worth more money than you paid for it. History will judge you both. Investment analysis continues here.
The Panamera should not work. It is a four-door saloon wearing a 911's face, built by a company that spent decades insisting it only made sports cars. It is automotive cognitive dissonance rendered in steel and carbon fibre. The Panamera proposition is made here. It works. Brilliantly. The Panamera Turbo S does 0-62 in 3.1 seconds while carrying four adults and their luggage. It handles like something with no right to handle that well. It is the kind of car that makes you question whether the concept of compromise is actually a compromise at all. Performance figures are documented here.
The Taycan is, by every objective measurement, an extraordinary car. It is fast, beautiful, impeccably built, and handles with a precision that embarrasses most petrol cars. It is also electric, which means the flat-six is gone and the sound is gone and a part of the Porsche soul that took sixty years to develop is absent from the experience. The Taycan is assessed here. This is not the Taycan's fault. The Taycan is doing everything right. The question of what Porsche is without an engine note is genuinely interesting and has no comfortable answer. Buy the Taycan if the future matters to you. Buy the 911 GT3 if the present does. The electric transition is examined here.
There is no version of the automotive conversation in which Porsche does not have a strong claim to being the finest car manufacturer on earth. Not the fastest. Not the most exclusive. Not the most dramatic. But the finest — the one that most consistently delivers exactly what it promises, improves it without losing what made it work, and charges you handsomely for the privilege without ever making you feel cheated. The full case is made here. The rest of the automotive world is welcome to keep trying. Porsche will be in Stuttgart, losing sleep over whether the next 911 is 0.003% better than the last one. It will be. It always is. Final word here. *Auf Wiedersehen, amigo!* This article was produced through the customary collaboration between the world's oldest tenured professor and a philosophy major turned dairy farmer, one of whom owns a 996 and won't discuss the IMS bearing. The London Prat has been practising British satirical journalism since 1961. Any Porsche purchases made as a result of reading this are your own affair and we accept no responsibility for the options list.