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“The colors tremble and vibrate.”
It is a reproduction of the poem with the name of Frederick Seidel’s 1998 collection “Going Fast”, a painting full of references to the planting of motorcycles.
Speed is a mixture of truth and belief – we, as it happens – and on a motorcycle, it is better to treat what is happening and do it with all the gray matter and muscle reminiscence available.
The colors don’t tremble or vibrate so much in a car. In many cars, they’re definitely still. But since I don’t drive those days, I take advantage of what I can get from the 4 wheels.
A few weeks ago, Porsche lent me a 718 Spyder, 2020 style. In the area of a week, I not only worked in combination with the tremor and vibration. I discovered new colors.
I’m not going to show you what the Spyder is like. Some think the roadster looks great with its elegant semi-automatic fabric roof, with fins that evoke the fragile lining of the roadster’s legacy. But I don’t.
The Spyder wants to live a life in largely descending, like his mythical background. You know the car I’m talking about: “You little bastard.” Deathmobile through James Dean, No. 130, a 1955 Porsche 550 that lost a tragic encounter on the road with the 1950 Ford. Dean 24. I had had a little car in a week.
You can’t help thinking about the insurgent without a cause: his white V-neck T-shirt, driving gloves, cigarettes and the 55-year-old Porsche at a California fuel station in the iconic photo, Dean’s last known living symbol. while gliding in the Spyder 2020’s comfortable cockpit. Sixty-five years have not replaced anything. (Well, airbags). You’re in a topless two-seater with a Porsche badge on the hood, the engine on your head, the road under your 20-inch alloy wheels.
What it doesn’t have is a four-cylinder flat engine that reaches just over a hundred horsepower. In fact, it has a flat six-cylinder engine, without turbos of any kind, a 4.0-liter mill that generates 414 horsepower with 309 pound-feet of torque and, percbel, a red line at 8000 rpm. (The 911 Carrera S 2021, instead, surpasses 7500, with its six of 3.0 liters).
Yes, sir! Under my left foot was a clutch pedal that responded perfectly. Under my right hand, a six-speed lever. But I didn’t want anything after three hours. I don’t know what anyone’s going to do with the next dual-clutch transmission and its seven. Perhaps reduce the time from 0 to 60 mph claimed by Porsche by a few tenths by 4.2 seconds. (But why? I got a speed of 60 mph in what I thought was about 3.5 seconds, and I was slightly on third gear.
The outdoors, the open road, the strength and strength and strength, and I haven’t even reached the escape yet. The ever-present feeling that the exquisite neutrality of the spy’s balance can send him on new adventures through oversteer or understeer. The worrying dynamic of thisArray.. Well, that little bastard.
Hell, I’m a 911 guy from start to finish. I never fell into the tail of the Boxsters and the Caymans, I laughed with the 4 turbo at half height. Sometimes I like less weight and power, to maximize the feathery nature of a smart two-seater.
But the 718 Spyder 2020 has rearranged my consciousness, as something fast and convincing moving in area and time. It’s a car you dream of once done, then you dream when driving resumes, and before you know it, driving and dreaming are the same.
The 718 Spyder has a solid companion: the GT4, the most sensible and most the real central racing car in the Porsche paddock. For the unconditional competitor, a worthy set of wheels. For me, an additional $3,000, based on the Spyder and for what? A more inflexible architecture? I prefer to channel the past because of Sir Stirling Moss and have the wind in a swirl smiling around my head.
Let’s say I spent $105,780 to make my own Spyder. I don’t think I’ll bother putting the roof on once I get rid of it. The procedure is on the verge of exasperation. First, a transfer works in the cabin, between the seats. The windows go down and 3 latches are loosed from the windshield. The tailgate opens. He then gets out of the car and reconfigures the airbrush on all sides, lifting the hatch before folding, not without a little effort, the most sensible thing in a compartment seats. Press the closed hatch and you can start driving outdoors.
Compared to this company, which for me took a little care of making plans on time, with a sequence of Miata: lowering windows, turning the latch, relaunching the condom. The set can be done at a red light.
I wasn’t ahead of fighting with the Spyder’s roof, but with the rain on the prognosis, I had to fight several times. (Putting it back in place is even harder than letting go). But I have a garage, which right now is complete with summer equipment in the suburbs. If it were up to me, I’d eliminate absolutely the most sensible thing and reduce the weight to 3500 pounds. A talking car awning would be my new coverage of the elements, and the Spyder wouldn’t even witness the winter.
Are Porsches beautiful? Well, no. They’re a little ugly. Simple. Insect eyes, clumsy hips, the endless aesthetic challenge of the front component Array.. and the rear component Array.. and side Array..
But Porsche sports cars are so superbly designed through Stuttgart’s geniuses that visual offenses are forgiven as soon as the tires take the track. This is a tool. Who cares about his appearance?
Yes, but if I need an attractive object, there’s the Aston Martin DB9. If I need to drive to save my life, I’ll take a 911. Or would I? The challenge with the 911 is that because the rear engine design is deeply flawed, Porsche designers have innovated since the mid-1960s to solve the challenge. They were so successful that the 911 lost some advantage. You can push the device more than ever without worrying about disaster, as I did when I recently tried the new Carrera 4S and Turbo S in quick succession.
911 shows you how to drive it. The car draws a long-term course and guides you; no vehicle fills me more with confidence. The Spyder, on the other hand, undermines my confidence, so subtly. You may feel the grip diminishing every time I become handsome. In my heart, I need it and I need it from a rear-wheel drive sports car, and not long ago I got it an Aston V8 Vantage. However, it had 503 horsepower with a slip of the tail, and it was a bit mobile. (This is comparative; the 800 horsepower in a Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat Redeye Widebody was frankly terrifying.)
The Spyder’s 414 was less difficult to paint, the limit of what I can take care of in terms of the throttle compared to the grip of the tires. In a word, exhilarating. In another, I live. In another, I admit it, beautiful.
I drove the Spyder a lot, either because driving is addictive and because in the northeast summer you have to drive at night. The mythical Garden State Parkway in New Jersey is minutes from my home, and I controlled it with the lyrics of a safe local son’s song in my head and a sense of guilt in my gut that I was taking out on the street in a German roadster, rather than an American muscle car.
Walking trips are not the use of Spyder’s talents, but they can take you to spaces where roads meander, turn, twist and bend. But we’re not there yet.
At full speed, the Spyder is disconcerting. Thanks to this 8000 rpm red line, which sits on the tachometer, inviting, you know, to check it out. Step on the accelerator and watch the desire pass until the moving breath of the six plane becomes, if not a cry, and then a kind of throat howl. I tried to put the gear lever in fifth, but the engine only wants a moment and (just) a third. Torque is obtained after 3 shakes you should temporarily degrade to get more pop and simply hang around 4000 or 5000 rpm and increase speed whenever you want or want.
The Spyder essentially plays with everything else on the road, with the exception of the strange Voodoo V8 Mustang, a flat crank Hellraiser that is a smart selection for track days, but does not offer spy style. On a GT350, the red line is 8250 rpm, which used to dismember a race track in Utah a few years ago without leaving the 3rd gear.
The 718 is a delight in high-speed guidance and braking. With the light, wobbly steering wheel in your hands, the suspension in position for anything you can throw at you, and the brakes to prevent the controller and 4 Michelin Pilot Sport Cup 2, boredom is over and unrest backs up.
The top speed is 187 mph, at which point I could possibly use the retractable peak to usefully climb to the rear, and rely on the front aerodynamics to drag the airflow up and the Spyder’s elegant shape, in the case of my tester dressed in a metallic silver PAINT job , the hood cut into a blood-colored cloth.
The interior is high-end but useful. A red and black leather set “Bordeaux” and Alcantara adds almost $3,000 to the final damage, but overall, the interior makes no compromises. The Alcantara coated wheel is intended for management; lacks the now typical multifunctional set of buttons, switches, buttons and dials.
The seats are well-adjusted and the field evidence around w8 (mass is an enemy of speed and maneuverability) is discovered in the door triggers with grille and lack of storage. The unhappy retractable cup holders, fragile things that no idiot would threaten with a smoked latte, are pathetic but understandable. They are made of plastic lightening the load. When they inevitably break and throw them into a resting trash can, subtract another 8 ounces from the Spyder’s mass.
The infotainable system, which runs on a modest touch screen, is smart for listening to music and provides GPS navigation, as well as planned pairing of the Bluetooth device with USB connectivity.
But the Spyder’s real joy is to seize the opportunity to forget about technology. Increase the exhaust bill and turn off the cylinder deactivation purposes (which is helping to get the fuel economy figures of 16 mph in city / 23 road / 19 combined), and with the ceiling lowered, turn on and feel the noise.
Seriously, you don’t lose more than $100,000 ($96,300 base) on a trip like this if you need to play with a touchscreen. Congratulations to Porsche for the infotainment facility. But it’s one more option: $2300. And I would have liked to have an AM/FM factory and a folding roadmap.
Apart from the cup holders, I got my same old kicks with things like the “smoking package”, a microbuche and an ashtray that I think can hold the butts of exactly 3 Marlboros.
A chronograph occupies a main box in the middle of the Spyder’s board and would be useful for timing lap times. As things stand, for consumers who basically don’t have the Spyder’s track, it’s like a beautiful wristwatch, which adds a functional touch to the inside.
As with the 911, it’s to take a look at the Spyder’s engine, unless you’re a qualified mechanic and able to disassemble the hoods and caps. The 718’s powertrain is even more hidden than that of the 911, located in the compact domain between the seats and the rear axle.
Surprisingly, combined with the same old front trunk, the Spyder has enough cargo space under the tailgate. At one point I was able to bring a folding camping chair and a shipment of Home Depot outdoor lamps.
Versatility!
I’m not kidding. I think the Spyder, with its two seats, can bring more stuff than some small three-row SUVs, with the third row unfolding. I didn’t think of examining the trailer.
Why do we get even more involved with textbooks? They are objectively slower than dual-clutch automatics and once you’ve triumphed over the excitement of the throttle, your own descents, the speed transmission and clutch launch, and all that heel-to-end craze if you’re very, very motivated. Array is hard to live with them.
We get in with them in cars like the Spyder because there’s no interest in cars like the Spyder without a cellular device between the seats and a third pedal on the ground. Remember, I’m breaking this boring blanket and I’m going up and down forever. He’s not my daily driver, and a smallpox on the way. I’m in favor of the curves and turns when I drive the 718, and I need to be at the controls of the show.
I can complain about the complicated passage backwards: left, hard, then up. But I won’t.
The 718 Spyder is definitely fascinating. It was one of the cars that showed me colors that I had never noticed before, which means that I introduced into my brain new mixtures of physical, intellectual, emotional and mental domain names that had been hidden in the past.
From the most sensible back and at high speed, the car is a search for vision of height and speed. The lighting it provides is unfortunately ephemeral, but it only gives you an excuse to tie yourself back and steer your nose toward the open asphalt, with a loose brain to explore its corners through ordinary German design and engineering.
The Spyder is the only Porsche I’ve driven in a time that has added much more than its impressive specs. A recent batch of the new 911 showed me the genius of this device and Porsche’s commitment to improving it. The Cayenne SUV remains as bright as it was in the early 2000s, when it surprised the world with its greatness. I even discovered Panameras I can live with.
But happiness, to me, is now a warm puppy. It’s not a walk on the wild side, nor a nameless horseback ride. It’s a Porsche Spyder. And I know where to put it.