American muscle or European finesse?
Driving.ca’s resident old dude Brian Harper and classic- car fiend Clayton Seams took a road trip to Michigan and found themselves behind the wheels of a handful of classic cars, generously on loan from the insurance provider, Hagerty. Here’s what they ha
Clayton Seams: How can 1967 be anything but the best year ever for cars? Horsepower levels were at record highs and it seemed like every manufacturer would happily sell you an ill- tempered race car for the street. Eventually, razor-like chrome bumpers and elegant wooden steering wheels would be gone as part of the legislation revolution that gave us the foam-padded safety cells we drive today. But before that, that marvellous age brought us two of the most desirable sport coupes ever made.
And we have the keys. Those keys (and the cars) belong to classic car insurance provider, Hagerty. Lined up on the shores of Lake Michigan, we have two very different takes on the classic 2+ 2 GT coupe. I choose a brawny 1967 Shelby GT500, complete with two fuel- gulping Holleys perched on top of an all-iron 428 big block V8. My colleague, Brian Harper, sides with a 1967 Porsche 911S with a jewel of a 2.0- litre flat six wedged in the back. In fact, the Porsche was the first car of company chief executive McKeel Hagerty. It’s a V8 apple facing off against an air-cooled orange. Brian, how do you expect to compete with only 160 horsepower?
Brian Harper: Finesse, my dear Clayton, finesse. On our twisty road route, the 911S is a scalpel, the Shelby a meat cleaver. It bears explaining, however, that neither of these cars is a trailer queen; both are regularly put out on the road for “exercise.” That said, the Shelby is an older restoration and probably could have used a little TLC. The 911 was more recently renovated, and was better screwed together to begin with.
The bigger issue at hand was the Shelby’s clunky C6 three- speed automatic, which, to me, is a travesty. The original owner, who could have chosen the fourspeed manual, was a wuss! I’ ll grant you the Shelby is stinkin’ fast, its 355- hp 428 pushing only 3,370 pounds. But that big ol’ iron block is weighing down the front end, and there is a lot of play in the steering, so it’s more a case of directing the car through the curves, not driving it.
The 911S, more t han 1,000 pounds lighter, sailed through those same curves. The recurring thought I had was not to back off the throttle in the middle of a corner, lest the 911’s reputation for swapping ends proved to be true. Besides, you have to admit the panoramic view through the Porsche’s windshield was impossible to beat.
CS: I’d rather see a hood bulging with scoops and heat extractors. The GT500 is a fullforce visual assault. It has no fewer than eight scoops and, while only four actually do anything, they all contribute to the mean look. And looking cool is half the battle.
The GT500 l acks t he precision of the 911, but I’d argue it makes up for that in pure tire- destroying, ripsnorting fun! The GT500 is a locomotive with racing stripes. Every full- throttle upshift is violent and sends the rear tires spinning.
That said, I must admit that for all its seven-litre bravado, the GT500 just can’t hang with the 911 in the sound department. The rasp emitted by the 911 is so purely race car that it makes you feel like strapping in for Le Mans 1967. Nothing sounds like an air-cooled 911. I found myself winding the motor up just to hear it more.
I don’t share your fascination with useless scoops. I much prefer the visual purity of the 1965 and ’66 GT350s. The ’67 GT500 is over-styled, Carroll Shelby trying too hard to differentiate his machines.
And, yes, the 911S’s howl as it snakes up to its 6,600rpm redline sent shivers up my spine. Like the Shelby, it’s over-carbed as well, with two three- barrel Webers mixing up a high-octane concoction.
I have to say I was shocked by how much I preferred the Porsche over Carroll’s finest. Growing up during the pony- car wars — too young to drive them when they were new, but old enough to read about them — I was a “Ford man,” particularly Cobras, Mustangs and T- Birds. This was despite the fact my only experience with the brand was a clapped- out Maverick my dad got for my brother and me to share when we got our licences. It was great to finally get to drive one of my dream cars.
The GT500 does exactly what it says on the tin. It’s fast, brash and tickles all the muscle-car pleasure centres. But despite GT trimmings, like the wood- rim steering wheel, racing stripes, and dual carbs, it can’t hide its blue- collar roots. The 911, on the other hand, is a driving tool, a precise scalpel with which you can carve a road of your choosing. It idles rough, it’s hard to drive, and the steering is heavy and direct. It has that “race car in a suit” feeling that the very best sports cars exude. The Shelby makes you want to nail the gas at every stoplight and keep the rear tires ablaze, whereas the 911 simply makes you want to drive it faster and faster as long as you can. And that’s the mark of a truly great sports car.
Driving these cars was a truly special privilege and both managed to live up to the poster- car hype. But we both agree on the end result: the 911S is the 1967 2+2 we’d rather add to our garage.