930 in the City
A 930 Turbo was the musthave car for yuppies in 1980’s London. Tim Pitt revisit its old haunts with a trip to the City…
The ultimate hideout for Porsche’s Turbo in the 1980s, Tim Pitt retraces those steps with a tour of London
This is the oldest part of London; the original Roman Londinium. Its streets have witnessed 20 centuries of congestion, commerce and crime, yet now they are calm. For a few brief moments, the city sleeps. Abruptly, an air-cooled engine shatters the silence. Its hard-edged howl echoes along the corridor of concrete, scattering the day’s discarded newspapers in a fast-approaching frenzy. A flash of Guards red races across the mirrored windows of an office block. The Porsche 911 Turbo is back on home territory, and history is being repeated.
The original Turbo (usually identified by its internal Typ number of 930) was launched in 1975, but the 1980s were its high-living heyday. As stocks soared and London boomed, this flagship 911
“Yuppies weren’ t shy about their wealth, and porsche’ s excess all-areas turbo chimed perfectly with thetimes”
became the must-have car for a new breed of affluent city slickers. These ‘yuppies’ weren’t shy about their wealth, and Porsche’s excess-all-areas Turbo chimed perfectly with the times.
I don’t have red braces, a Filofax or, regrettably, a bonus-boosted bank balance, but I do – for one night only – possess the keys to a 930: a 1979 3.3 Turbo currently for sale at Carbitrage. The plan is to revisit its old stomping ground, criss-crossing the capital and driving into the small hours. If any car is worth losing sleep for, it’s this one.
I rendezvous with photographer Dan at
Greenland Dock, close to the Millennium Dome.
The evening sun glints off the 930’s shapely hips as it strikes a pose by the Thames, the tightly packed towers of Canary Wharf twinkling in the distance. It looks like a classic 911 on steroids, oozing latent aggression. Guards red paint – a Porsche staple since 1974 and the Turbo’s signature shade – is the pièce de résistance, perfectly offset by the gloss-black Fuchs alloys.
Four decades ago, this area of east London was a virtual wasteland; now it’s crammed with des-res apartments. The 930 has travelled a similar trajectory in its 43 years, morphing from black sheep to bluechip classic. Its story starts with the 917/30: Stuttgart’s first foray into forced induction. This fearsome racer produced up to 1,600hp in qualifying tune, winning Can-am championship titles in 1972 and 1973. Porsche chairman Ernst Fuhrmann saw the potential of turbo technology for the road, saying: “I was of the opinion that racing must have a connection to the normal
automobile… I said to my people, why don’t we put this success into our car?”
Testing for a turbocharged 911 began in 1973, using a 2.7-litre engine and the wider bodywork of a 3.0 RS. The production 930 debuted at the 1974 Paris Motor Show with a 3.0-litre engine, four-speed 915 gearbox and a Kühnle, Kopp & Kausch (KK&K) turbo that delivered 0.8 bar of boost. The figures that mattered were 0-62mph in 5.5 seconds and a top speed of 155mph, elevating performance to Ferrari Boxer and Lamborghini Countach levels. For the first time, the 911 could square-up to supercars.
Porsche purists, however, felt perturbed. Some hated the idea of a 911 that majored on brute force, with a turbocharged engine that exacerbated its occasionally treacherous handling traits. Not me, though. As a child of the 1980s, I had a Guards red 930 Blu Tacked to my bedroom wall (and probably still would if my wife didn’t have other ideas). For a generation raised on Athena posters, arcade games and MTV, this was Porsche’s hardcore hero. At least until the 959 arrived in 1986.
This Turbo has the 304hp 3.3-litre engine, uprated brakes and a ‘tea tray’ spoiler, introduced for 1978. Nought to 62mph dropped to 5.4 seconds, with a 160mph maximum. Not that I’ll be testing either in the tail-end of evening rush hour. We crawl through Greenwich, passing the Cutty Sark and the imposing Old Royal Naval College. The pavements are packed with camera-toting tourists, and the 911 becomes an attraction in its own right. In a city saturated with supercars, a classic Porsche still turns heads.
Once you acclimatise to being a social media happening, the 930 is a pleasant way to go nowhere fast. Standard equipment included leather trim, electric windows and air conditioning. Robert Binder, responsible for engine development, had envisioned a stripped-out special in the mould of the Carrera RS, but Fuhrmann disagreed, positioning the 930 as a series-production model and halo car for the
911 range. A template was thus established that endures to this day, with the Turbo offering dailydriver comfort rather than the race-bred rawness of a Rennsport.
The 930 may be comfortable, but that doesn’t make it an ideal city car. Its floor-hinged clutch is heavy in traffic, while the non-assisted steering – plus wider, 7x16-inch front tyres – flexes your biceps when manoeuvring. With no meaningful boost at low revs the turbocharger rarely gets a chance to spool-up either. As we crawl across Tower Bridge, dicing with buses and black cabs, it starts to feel like hard work.
Fortunately, our target is ahead. We pass a marker stone and enter the de facto City of London: engine room of the capital’s power and prosperity. This Square Mile is the 930’s spiritual home and boasts a dizzyingly diverse mix of architecture, from the baroque St Pauls Cathedral to modern landmarks such as 30 St Mary Axe (the Gherkin), 20 Fenchurch Street (the Walkie-talkie) and, just across the river, the 310m Shard, the UK’S tallest building.
If the Shard is like one of those Italian stallions, ostentatious and impractical, the 930 seems more
akin to a fellow 1980s icon: the Lloyd’s building. Located on Lime Street, this Grade-one-listed workplace shuns showy flamboyance for a formfollows-function approach. The 930 is no different. Every detail, from its distended rear wheel arches, shrouding steamroller 8x16-inch Pirellis, to its mighty spoiler – housing the top-mounted intercooler – is there to enhance performance.
We stop for photographs and several city workers stroll over from outside a pub. Their shoulder pads and mobile phones have shrunk, but this scene looks otherwise unchanged from the mid-1980s. The usual ‘How fast?’ and ‘How much?’ questions are asked as they take photos of their own. For these 21st-century yuppies, the Turbo is clearly still a valued commodity.
I indulge in some gratuitous throttle blipping in the short Upper Thames Street tunnel, then dive along side streets towards the heart of the Square Mile. Stopping for a snap outside the Bank of England, I register a certain irony. Here we are in front of a symbol of steadfast stability since 1694, driving a car that’s enshrined in folklore as the exact opposite. Depending on your outlook, the 930’s oftquoted ‘widowmaker’ nickname is either a source of perverse pride or a salutary warning, but only a drive on real roads will separate myth from reality. Besides, I’m tired of red routes, box junctions, suicidal cyclists and constant CCTV scrutiny. To quote a 1984 pop hit, “Now I’ve gotta cut loose…”
I drop Dan off at Aldgate tube station and head west again. My plan is to take the long way home via some favourite Kent, Sussex and Surrey lanes, stretching the Turbo’s legs on roads more suited to a supercar. After yet more congestion on the A2 I cross the orbital M25, and gradually the street lights disappear, followed by the never-more-welcome sight of a National Speed Limit sign. Without hesitation, I bury my right foot.
Until this moment, the boost gauge – located front-and-centre beneath the rev counter – has mostly lain dormant, but now the needle swings into life. The 930 lunges forward like it’s just been rearended by a rocket, an almighty shove that builds from 3,500rpm to the 6,700rpm redline. Even in 2018, when a basic 718 Boxster matches its power output, the Turbo still feels fast.
Such waaait-for-it lag seems alien in an era of electric compressors and small-capacity sequential turbos, yet it’s also part of this Porsche’s unique character: a textbook example of a flaw becoming a charming quirk. It’s also a reminder of when forced induction meant more than mid-range torque and lower CO2 emissions. Even hairdryers were labelled ‘Turbo’ in the 1980s, but this one is the real deal.
Its power delivery may be sledgehammer subtle, but the 930 still offers the nuanced driving experience you’d expect from a 911. On meandering, hedge-lined lanes, its three-spoke steering wheel feels alert with textured feedback, the nose bobbing restlessly, the rear end squatting as you wind out the boost. The 917-derived brakes are excellent, too – hugely more confidence-inspiring than those of a contemporary SC.
And what of the famed sting in the tail? It’s there alright; a transition from gust to gale that can throw the car off balance mid-corner, leaving the driver firmly at the mercy of physics. However, in the dry at least, the 930 isn’t the ravenous rottweiler I’d been led to expect. Its wider track means plenty of grip and its limits are much lower than, say, a 996 GT2. The key is to be smooth with your inputs, gradually learning the car’s abilities – and your own. Frankly, if you spin a 930, you probably have yourself to blame.
I stop for fuel near Crowhurst, then reluctantly point the 911’s nose back towards London. The night air is cool and dense now, and the flat six gulps it down hungrily. I could swear I’ve gained an extra 30hp. Even with just four ratios (the 930 only gained a five-speed G50/50 gearbox in 1989 – its final year of production) it’s easy to keep the ’charger spinning, blasting between bends on a seamless wave of boost.
Crossing the M25 again I’m suddenly back to the inner-london suburbs, contending with Uber drivers, night buses and a blanket 20mph speed limit. The
930 shrugs it off, but its talent feels wasted in town. Those yuppies didn’t know what they were missing. I rumble gently home, still buzzing from my crosscounty dash. It’s been an evening of two halves: starting sedately, then exploding into a heady, high-octane rush. Now, which car does that remind you of?
Thanks
Many thanks to Carbitrage for loaning us the 930. Call (+44 20 3544 2757) or visit carbitrage.co.uk for info.