Manual to the mountains
Lee Sibley reflects on ten years of sevenspeed stick shift with a road trip in the latest Carrera S
Lee Sibley embarks on a special road trip to Wales in a seven-speed manual 992 Carrera S
It is a mark of just how seismic a development the 991 was that when it launched in 2011, its new manual gearbox was almost completely overlooked. Controversies surrounding electrically assisted steering and a 100mm longer wheelbase stole the headlines, yet the seventh-generation 911 had also gained a seventh forward ratio for its PDK and manual transmissions. Porsche reasoned emissions was the result of this unprecedented move to develop a seven-speed manual for its 911, and the reality was proof enough of that. A long seventh ratio was essentially an overdrive gear, with top speed still achieved in sixth. What was also apparent from our early drives, though, was that this new gearbox would take some getting used to. Some would argue we never quite did.
Adding another ratio threw off the harmony of the manual gearbox. That rifle-bolt action of the 997’s six speed was lost, replaced with a clunky vagueness to each throw through the gate, while an awkward spring loading meant third was often found instead of fifth when hopping back down the gearbox out of seventh when exiting motorways, for example. We noticed AWD 991s were a little more notchy than RWD equivalents, which flew in the face of the C4 and C4S’S more everyday capabilities, and though we love the concept of still changing gears ourselves, Christ, did we really want seven gears in which to choose from? For a 991 which was supposedly more sophisticated than its predecessor, its gearbox didn’t appear very sophisticated at all.
Unbelievably, we’ve now had a full decade of the seven-speed manual transmission in Porsche
911 Carrera derivatives, and there have been muchneeded improvements along the way. The 991.1
GTS brought with it a smoother throw which was then implemented across the board for the 991.2 generation. The 991 Carrera T then sought to lose a little more of that vagueness felt through the palm of the driver’s hand by offering a stubbier shifter, reducing travel through each gate. Then, for the
992, further tweaks were made to the Zf-supplied MT11 transmission, including a lighter clutch pedal and a shift action that removed much of the 991’s clunkiness. After the disappointment of the 991, the 992’s manual gearbox blew us away on a first drive at the back end of 2020. But what’s the latest stick shift like to live with? A couple of days in the mountains would give us the answer.
Our excursion really will encompass all aspects of driving for the 911 – or, more precisely, that MT11 gearbox – to excel at. Sure, the squiggly blacktop around Wales will provide the ideal stage for both man and machine to bond, but first we’ll need to get there, and that involves a four-hour drive to
Wales from my home on the south coast of England. A mixture of single carriageway A-roads and motorways await, and a Covid-enforced summer staycation means that these trunk roads will be busy with less inspired vehicles than our own. We’d best get moving.
Cutting through the flatter countryside of
Dorset proves fun: the 992 takes little time to get suitably warmed up, thanks in no small part to active front grille flaps, which stay closed to shut out cool morning air from the outside until the flat six’s internal operating temperature of just over 90 degrees is reached. Even in ‘Normal’ mode and without Sports exhaust deployed, the engine carries a nice note under acceleration, these later 992s making a better fist of overcoming those gasoline particulate filters to provide a decent soundtrack. The gearbox, similarly, takes little time to warm up, showing none of the traits of recalcitrance older 911s characteristically encounter with cold gearbox oil.
I’m sat between third and fourth gears as the Carrera S makes light work of the quieter A-roads
between Salisbury and Bath, our progress only periodically held up by the odd lorry or commercial van. These are dispatched of safely and efficiently, a quick cog drop and judicious press of the gas pedal bringing a surge of twin-turbo torque to enable the 992 to blast past. Finally, I reach the M4 motorway, calling that overly long seventh gear into action for the first time as revs drop to a quiet 2,000rpm at a speed of roughly 70mph. Under a burst of midday sunshine, we exit England via the Severn bridge and roll into Wales. My plan is to hit the Brecon Beacons first, then drive up the centre of the country on quieter roads away from the stodge of caravans and family-laden people carriers.
Turning off the motorway, I head north via the Cynon Valley, home of Wales’ best modern musical export in the Stereophonics. The Brecons arrive quickly enough, the A4069 being a firm favourite of most petrolheads residing in Great Britain. Stunning vistas arrive soon after leaving the sleepy village of Upper Brynamman, not that I’m looking at them. My eyes are focused on the asphalt ahead as it dives left and then right in quick succession, carving a path along the mountains’ edge. Staying in ‘Normal’ mode allows me to heel and toe myself, but it’s not always a smooth affair. I’ve just never got used to the 992’s less-than-ideal pedal positioning for this, even if the steel brakes on this C2S allow for further travel of the middle pedal, which traditionally makes heel-toe shifts easier to execute over ‘dab and grab’ PCCBS at road speeds.
A quick swivel of the 992’s Mode wheel into
‘Sport’ changes things, notably by bringing automatic rev-matching into the mix. A feature of the manual car’s standard Sport Chrono Pack, yes it’s a bit of a cop-out and yes, engaging it means the car is doing a lot of the work for you, but the fact is it’s a brilliant piece of technology and one that’s universally popular among 991 and 992 owners. On fast, flowing tarmac in South Wales, it’s certainly found favour, delivering smooth downshifts while ridding the C2S of any unwanted shock loads through the transmission.
Sewing the free-flowing corners together, I’m switching blissfully between the 992’s second and third gears, keeping revs comfortably in the mid range. The C2S feels particularly sprightly here
– turbo lag is barely discernible as my right foot squeezes on the gas, the rev needle refusing to run out of puff as it accelerates round to the red line at 7,600rpm.
The chassis has come alive too: rigid at the back thanks largely to active engine mounts controlling movement of the engine’s mass (again a Sport
Chrono Pack feature), its suspension has stiffened, reducing body roll, though not to the point where the 911 stops communicating its transfers in load.
The difference is quite astonishing. Not ten minutes ago, the 992 was demonstrating its qualities as a comfortable grand tourer. Now, on proper roads, it’s flexing its muscles and revealing itself to be, well, a 911 – playful on the edge, particularly with that mechanical limited slip diff at the rear over greasy, high-altitude bitumen.
Negotiating the Brecons, we drop down to a dark stretch of forest where the road tightens. It’s still darting to and fro as if impatiently trying to navigate a way through the trees, so I follow, albeit with an altogether more conservative attitude to throttle input. Switching back to Normal mode, that sonorous flat six soundtrack reverberating through the mountains from earlier is replaced with rolling tyre noise as I change up to fourth gear and allow the flat six’s low down grunt to pull me through each bend.
The 992’s automatic beam is illuminating the path ahead brilliantly, but the trees are now right on top
“I’m busy with the ‘box, relishing every kick of the clutch pedal and flick of my wrist as the stubby shifter dances about the centre console”
of the road, their dark silhouettes passing quickly by my windows like people on a crowded platform from a train. For the first time on this trip, this eighthgeneration 911 feels big, and I’m relieved to not meet a single vehicle travelling in the opposite direction.
Eventually, the 911 and I emerge from our wooded cocoon… to nightfall, and a chance to rest. A nighttime stopover at a quality B&B (Wales has lots of them) soon gives way to another summer’s day, and more sunshine.
Pootling through another sleepy Welsh village as the 992’s engine warms once again, I consider the fallout from yesterday’s excursion. An indicated 26.9mpg from 300 miles of fast driving is more than respectable, and I too felt relatively fresh for it. The same journey in my manual 996 would have induced three-pedal fatigue by the day’s end, no doubt about it. The 992’s light clutch pedal certainly helps, as does the way the shifter glides effortlessly about the ‘box with a freedom not witnessed in a 911 since the 993.
For day two, our adventure will take us to the Elan Valley via Abergwesyn. A Total 911 favourite, this is a delectable route furnishing us with a good surface, fast bends and wicked cambers.
The 992 fails to disappoint, the precision of its steering delighting on the tighter, technical twists around Devil’s Bridge, before the road opens up for a fast dash to the reservoir’s edge. I’m busy with the ‘box, relishing every kick of the clutch pedal and flick of my wrist as the stubby shifter dances about the centre console. It really is a pleasure to engage with this transmission: it carries over much of the positive work put in place from the 991 years, the shifter sitting in a slightly elevated position compared to the earlier water-cooled 911s, and much closer to the steering wheel. I mentioned that lightness of both clutch and shift feel, but it’s not superficially so, the manual ‘box giving the 992 a mechanical edge that’s absent from PDK equivalents. That awkward spring loading towards third gear has been reduced (although not eradicated entirely), and its ratios are ideally suited to the 992’s turbo engine, being long enough to offer comfort on longer treks, but short enough to provide engagement when called upon for sporty driving.
An afternoon of pure driving nirvana unfolds as I loop further north into rural mid-wales, the roads running stubbornly around the barbed wire fencing of farmland like water along a crack. Finally it’s time to head back for England, dropping back down and over the border via the A483 and A479 past Abergavenny. Enjoying my last ‘dash’ on twisty blacktop, I’m pushing this Carrera S harder than I’ve ever pushed before, and what it gives back astounds me. The sheer grip of the 992 is staggering, the variable torque distribution across the back axle courtesy of Porsche Torque Vectoring (PTV) doing an excellent job of keeping its rear faithfully rooted to the asphalt. That, and the gut-punch of acceleration on tap with the mere prod of my right foot means the 992 storms back down south with alacrity.
30 minutes later, I’m back on the M4, the jagged outline of Wales’ mountainous landscape filling my mirrors. Hitting 70mph-ish, I slip the 992 into seventh gear, the first time I’ve done so in more than 24 hours. The tacho shows an engine speed of just over 2,000rpm, a relative slumber compared to my antics of the past two days. Pulling to the left hand lane, a period of further reflection ensues.
This Zf-supplied ‘box has absolutely won me over, even if it’s taken a full decade to convince me of its worth. Is it as good as the six-speed of the 997 era? As a driver’s tool, it ultimately lacks the rifle-bolt precision of its predecessor, but finally the sevenspeed feels like an acceptable partner to the polished 992. Tellingly, this is the first time I’d seriously consider speccing a seven-speed manual over the brilliant PDK transmission in a new 911.
It might have taken ten years, but at last the merits of stick shift in the modern 911 reigns supreme. Long live the manual!