987 CAYMAN R V MODDED CAYMAN S
Can our own lightly modified Cayman S take the fight to Porsche’s sublime lightweight R? The differences are not as great as you might think
An immaculate R versus a thoroughly used and 100,000-mile abused S. Surely, this is a massive mismatch, a no contest, a non starter? There’s getting on for a £40,000 price gap between these two 987 Caymans, after all. What, exactly, is the point?
For some, there will be none. If you’ve got the £50k entry fee for a perfect Cayman R, an early 987 S almost certainly isn’t on your radar. But hold on. There’s at least intellectual intrigue in investigating the delta between these two Crocs in terms of the driving experience, the amount of joy on offer from behind the wheel. As we’ll see, the areas where the R fails to put real distance between itself and the aging S and even (whisper it) loses out, are awfully revealing.
Hold that thought while we deal with a little housekeeping. There are a few things you should know about the S shown on these pages. Firstly, it’s not entirely standard. It’s not a mega-modded car. Instead, it’s mildly tweaked. The list of changes isn’t exactly exhaustive. There’s a larger brake master cylinder from the 997 GT3. The springs and dampers are a recently fitted Bilstein B12 kit (more or less, see Our Cars instalments passim for the full, gory details), which is roughly analogous to a factory Porsche sport suspension option, even if such a thing never existed for the 987 Cayman. The clutch pedal sensor has also been taped over to prevent the ECU from killing the throttle momentarily during upshifts.
Oh, and then there are the wheels and tyres. Instead of the 18-inch rims with the 265 section rear and 235 front boots on which a standard S rolls, it’s running 987 non-s spec 17s with 205 fronts and 235 rears. This S also has new coffin arms and top mounts all round and the engine block is carrying 50,000 miles, not the 100,000 of the rest of the car. So in performance terms it’s at the top of its game and the chassis is nice and fresh.
Overall, however, this isn’t big money stuff. In fact, that is very much the point. If you chuck enough money at an early S you can take it up to and beyond an R as a driving tool. There’s no mystery there. The killer question is whether you can take a cheap S and with a few carefully chosen tweaks transform it into something that bears comparison with the R for a fraction of the price.
Make no mistake, it’s never going to be quite the same as the R. This isn’t about emulating an R on the cheap. But could an early S be as compelling in its own way? Now that is a thought. The other thing you should know about this S is that it’s owned by the hackneyed scribe composing these very words. The scope for bias is therefore substantial. That is what it is. You are now fully informed.
As for the R, it’s about as good an example as they come. The spec is
buckets, a manual box and no aircon and thus driver focused to the max. It has less than 10,000 miles on the clock. And it’s painted Guards Red, which as every fool knows is not only the best colour but Porsche also ensures every Guards example is just a little bit faster than the rest. Probably. This R is also entirely standard save for the brake master cylinder which has likewise been changed for the larger 911 item.
That actually puts the R at an immediate advantage. As standard it comes with the same brake MC as every other 987 and that means it has the same unforgivably mushy brake pedal. In that scenario, it would have been first blood to the older, lightly modded S. But it has the bigger MC, so it ain’t. While we’re on the subject of that brake MC, you could argue the fact Porsche didn’t see fit to slap in the bigger MC is indicative of a fairly cynical attitude to the R. It’s such a simple thing to do, it solves the standard R’s worst and most “glaring dynamic shortcoming and it does so at what would in effect be zero cost to Porsche. At the very least, it was a ludicrous oversight.
It’s also surely worth recapping at this point just what makes the R special versus the S. Of course, the R is a gen 2 987 Cayman and that means a brand new MA1 engine design and one with pretty much all the significant flaws removed. Everything that makes the M97 in the gen 1 S so very scary – the IMS bearing, the score-prone cylinder liners, the bendy and crack-prone open-deck bores, the inadequate oiling under hard cornering – it’s all been dealt with in the MA1 engine.
It also packs a bit more power. The early S is quoted at 295 metric horsepower while
Everything that makes the M97 scary has been dealt with in the MA1
the R clocks in at 335hp, itself a 10hp bump over the standard second-generation S. The R further benefits from a few weightsaving tweaks including aluminium door skins which add up to a mass advantage of around 50kg to 80kg over an S depending on the spec of each car. The R gets bespoke spring, damper and roll bar rates, too, and a set of super-light 19-inch alloys. There’s also a limited slip differential as standard, which isn’t unique in the 987 to the R as it was optionally available on any gen 2 987. But it wasn’t available on any gen 1 987 at all.
But that’s largely it. The R doesn’t have anything really exotic like its own gear ratios or rose-jointed suspension. Hell, it doesn’t even have different suspension bushings or uprated brakes. Of course, the fact that it’s such a mild makeover doesn’t mean the parts won’t subjectively add up to something significantly more than the objective sum. But it does give a haggard old S with a few bits bolted on an outside shot at making this a contest.
So, let’s start with the R. What does an R immediately feel like to someone with 50,000 hard driven early-s miles under his belt? Straight away, it sounds different, a little less filtered. Actually, the engine note comparison is an interesting early barometer. The old S on standard boxes certainly sounds more remote and damped. But the underlying engine note is more raw. On the other hand, the R sounds crisper, louder and more immediate. But also more couth deep down. Go figure.
Get moving and a few things hit you right away. First, the R’s throttle response is sharper and less laggy. The engine feels tangibly more immediate and lively at low revs. Next up is the way the R bimbles down the road. The factory damper and spring combo may not be terribly exotic, but they do lend the R a lovely floating gait with just a hint of front-end bobble to help remind you that you’re in something mid-engined. That’s rather nice. It’s something a completely standard non-r 987 Cayman is missing which results in the relatively anodyne, neutral-to-a-fault
The R’s throttle response is sharper and less laggy
character of mainstream 987s.
You’ll also notice that the R’s steering is a little less talkative. The qualification here is that this is in comparison to a gen 1 car on the slim 17-inch wheels, which make a big difference in allowing information to make it all the way to the steering wheel rim. The R’s steering also feels subjectively lighter in comparison to the old S’s meatier, heftier helm, a distinction that’s probably true in wider context.
That’s because the R really is deliciously light on its feet. There’s a general lack of inertia in everything it does. The way it steers, the responses of the engine, the chassis’ movements, the works. That much is not, perhaps, a huge surprise. What is unexpected is the overall transparency on offer. A standard early S on 18s is, frankly, a bit of a dullard. But this R on even bigger 19-inch wheels has bags of feel through the chassis. There’s never any doubting what the car is doing or where the limits are.
The R also feels that little bit more precise all round. There’s the throttle response, of course, but it’s also in the shift mechanism and the chassis’ response. Given the R uses standard bushes and mounts, much of the latter almost certainly comes down to wheel and tyre spec. It’s the sharpness of those ultra-low profile 19-inch tyres in contrast to the fat sidewalls and narrow sections of the S’s 17s. What’s more, while other models in the 987 range can feel thumpy and out of sorts on 19s, the R’s springs and dampers have no problem controlling the mass of those big 19-inch wheels and tyres. Maybe those 19s aren’t such a bad idea after all.
Another big surprise, while we’re talking tyres, is the access to its limits the R allows. This particular example is running a set of fresh Michelin Cup 2s. You might think the combination of such a sticky compound with fairly generous 235 and 265 section tyres, plus a power output that’s hardly dramatic in modern terms, would make for a one dimensional grip-everywhere driving experience. Not a bit of it. Instead, it’s remarkably easy to dip into those delicious moments of near-limit yaw. No, not sliding the car, just pushing hard enough for its attitude to adjust. In fact, the R is far better at that than an early S on its standard wheels. Unexpected? Yup. Welcome? Definitely.
In outright objective terms, the R also has substantially more front-end bite. That’s most obvious during turn in for really tight corners and under braking. For the most part, it’s a plus point for the R. Outright braking power is not really a strong point in either car, but the narrow front boots on the modded S only further compromise what is already a borderline braking system. On the other hand, the S’s lack of front-end grip in extremis does add an extra dimension. It makes the older car partial to a little trail braking in some circumstances, 911 style.
For some that will make more nuanced and interactive. Others will prefer being able to lean much harder on the R’s front axle.
What probably isn’t up for debate is the performance gap. Put simply, it isn’t huge. The R is a bit quicker. But, ultimately, what we have here is a pair of 300-ish-hp 3.4litre Porsches with kerb weights less than 100kg apart. And that’s what it feels like. You certainly wouldn’t conclude you got a good deal spending the extra £35,000 to £40,000 on the R primarily for the small performance uptick, put it that way.
If that’s an overall insight into the delightful R, what can a miley old S offer as an alternative? You’re fundamentally sitting in the same car, obviously. As a seating and driving environment proposition there’s little in it bar the buckets fitted to the R, which are of course completely lovely. You’ve got almost as much performance. You’ve got a whiff more steering feel in this S, at least. And you have that slightly meatier, weightier feel. That’s just different, not better or worse.
In this particular S, again, you also have a chassis that’s less composed. The Bilstein B12 kit is much busier. It’s not a disaster by any means, but the quantity of high-frequency movements is noticeably higher. Objectively, that makes it clearly less competent. Subjectively, it’s more complicated than that. It’s sometimes argued that the best driver’s cars are a little bit flawed and, viewed from that perspective, the old timer’s slight damping
incompetence gives it a bit of engaging fight to counter the R’s near-impeccable flow.
Add in the S’s aforementioned and occasional penchant for a touch of trail on corner entry and you have, arguably, the more involving road car in some situations. Not all situations, of course. The R will have the S pretty well hammered on quick, flat A roads that reward grip and precision. But if really tortuous B roads and even more minor white roads are your bag, the R isn’t necessarily the obvious pick. That isn’t just down to the suspension. It’s also thanks to this S’s narrow tyres and small wheels. If the R is surprisingly communicative on 19s, the S is just delightfully chatty without the need for qualification. It also gives you even more
The performance gap isn’t up for debate. Put simply, it isn’t huge
access to what are friendlier limits. While the R is actually remarkably benign near the limit most of the time, it also displays an occasional and inevitable edginess that really can’t be avoided with the kind of wheel and tyre spec it’s running. The downside for the S is a softer, less precise all-round feel to the chassis and how it responds. In the end, you can’t have it both ways. With precision comes a little edginess in the R. With accessibility and malleability in the S comes less incisive response. Take your pick.
All of which means we are drawing towards the sordid subject of which is the superior driving machine. In objective terms, it’s easy. The R is a little faster, it turns better, it brakes harder, it has superior damping, far better seats and so on. It’s got the undoubted cachet of a limited model with an evocative suffix, too. In subjective terms, the choice is a whole lot more nuanced. As impressive as the R’s road manners are on its hefty 19s, it would be a better road car still on smaller wheels and tyres. That’s probably even true if you prefer the R’s front-end bite. A set of 17s with 225 fronts would likely maintain nearly all the front-axle positivity while adding even friendlier limits and a dollop of extra information.
The cost, of course, would be precision and at this point we’re going round in circles and the very notion of choosing a winner starts to become a little fatuous. The real lesson here, therefore, is twofold. First is that while the R sits on its own as the ultimate 987, the good news is that the lower end of the 987 scale offers huge opportunities to achieve a fantastic driver’s car at a remarkably low price.
The second lesson involves a broader insight into what you might call the 9x7 generation of cars including these 987 Caymans. More than ever, they’re emerging as a fantastic compromise between character and capability, between feel and full-on road-borne flight. Both of these cars are oh so involving and oh so capable. As driving machines, neither feels the least bit dated or the least bit shonky, which isn’t quite something you can say about the 986 and 996 generation. As for which one this writer would like to take home, the R or his own S, who cares? Either way it would be a ride to remember. 987 Caymans really are completely cracking. PW
Both of these cars are oh so involving and oh so capable