DESERT ISLAND CAR
If you want fast, beautiful and responsive, perhaps you should put your money into the Cayman S
AFEW weeks ago I found myself in Durban for another edition of the Top Gear Festival. To tell the truth I didn’t really want to go because, let’s be honest; when you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. Still, Mercedes-Benz had invited me to join them for a sneak peek at their new A45 AMG. So I thought it would rude not to tag along. “Hey, maybe things will be different this year,” I told myself.
Well they weren’t. The ensuing circus was pretty much a wormhole back to the early Noughties: a weird period of my life in which I wore far too much hair gel and had a strange penchant for those awful one-piece Oakley shoes. Stale jokes. Some synchronised driving. A loud, overhyped game of motorbike polo. It was basically like watching reruns of early Top Gear on SABC3.
Just as I was about to go in search of another overpriced draught, the arena started filling up with all manner of sports cars like some beauty contest. The crowd cooed with delight — a Lamborghini Gallardo, an Aston Martin Rapide, a Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG and a Bentley Continental. The camera phone scramble went into overdrive when a Dodge Challenger, a Ferrari 458 Italia, an Audi R8, a McLaren MP4-12C and a Lamborghini Aventador joined the fray. After the frenzy died down some, the Dwarf, the Fat Man and the Captain of all things Slow explained to everybody which of the machines they’d pick and why. Richard Hammond went with the Dodge; Jeremy Clarkson chose the Mercedes; and James May, because he owns one, the Ferrari.
This got me thinking — which car would I take? After careful deliberation in the beer queue, I decided against all of them. Simply because, one week prior, I had driven the new Porsche Cayman S.
Let me explain. Back in 2006 Porsche released the original Cayman — essentially a Boxster with a fixed metal roof and a rear hatch that made it possible to stash an overnight bag, a cat box or a few packets of groceries. This not only made it slightly more practical than a Boxster but, thanks to that more rigid body structure, significantly better to pilot. Clarkson referred to it as the Gayman but, hey, what does he know? By the time the first generation Cayman reached the end of its life cycle in 2011 I actually thought it was better than its bigger and much more expensive brother, the 911.
One of the most memorable drives I’ve ever had was behind the wheel of a limited edition R model that I drove from Franschhoek to Hermanus. Gosh. The power. That raw, race-car-like fury. The ashen look on my mother’s face as I got it to drift, so effortlessly, up and down a treacherous mountain pass. As a piece of feel-good engineering, nothing could come close. Especially after you stood back and marveled at how comparatively little it cost.
Anyway. If the first Cayman was a genuinely great machine, then its bold new replacement (known as the 981 in Porsche-speak) is exceptional. Stealing a few styling cues from both the firm’s new 918 halo car and the legendary 917 racer that Steve McQueen made famous in his 1971 movie Le Mans, Cayman Version 2.0 is the steel embodiment of the word speed. Shorter overhangs, larger wheels and a wider track bulk up the visual ante (and improve handling), while an aggressive new face and heavily chiselled beltline reinforce the fact that this is no gutless boulevard cruiser. Perfection is a strong word in modern automotive design. But I think that the 981 does come dangerously close.
The same goes for the driving experience. A contemporary 911 still requires a certain degree of respect lest you end up in some- body’s flowerbed, facing the wrong way. But in a Cayman you can skip the pleasantries, forget the foreplay and get down to hustling — real hard. Throw it down your favourite road, pitch it into a corner and the 981 feels like an extension of your body. You know exactly what it’s doing and how much grip you have left in reserve before it breaks away in a nice, controllable slide.
An aptitude for the curvy stuff is further boosted by the inertia-slaying properties of that mid-mounted six-cylinder boxer engine. By bolting it directly behind the driver, Stuttgart has given us a car that changes direction like a dragonfly. It’s bloody quick too.
Eric Clapton once sang that it’s in the way that you use it. And this is exactly the case with the Cayman S and its 239kW. It isn’t a massive amount of power. But the manner in which this car makes the most of every last joule via that brilliant PDK gearbox means that you never feel shortchanged in the speed department. You have to work for it — there’s no turbo — but this just adds to the magic; makes you feel more involved. Porsche has wisely equipped the Cayman S with staunch anchors. Mine had the optional ceramic brake package that, once warmed up, felt like you were hitting an invisible brick wall every time you stabbed the left pedal.
Yet perhaps the greatest trick this Porsche pulls is its ability to play both Jekyll and Hyde. Snarling race car one minute and comfortable cruiser the next, the 981 is one of those rare sports coupés you can use every day of the week. Even on our diabolical roads, with enormous 20-inch alloys filling its arches, my test car rode with a fluidity you’d expect from a luxury saloon.
For the money, you won’t find a finer or better-balanced sports car. There are machines twice its price that don’t come close. So the next time Top Gear rolls into town, Jezza and company will most certainly have one wrangled in on their stadium antics. But having just sat through a ridiculous stunt involving spandex-clad fire dancers and a pair of Chev Luminas, I’m afraid I won’t be there to watch.