Update GH Tuesday, 3/3/2026 Episode (March 3, 2026) | General Hospital Spoilers

The Pantheon of the 911: My 40-Year Quest for the Ultimate Porsche Experience By Angus MacKenzie Four decades. Forty years of testing Porsches, and it’s hard to believe so much time has evaporated since I first got behind the wheel of a 911. I remember that car vividly: a white 3.0-liter Carrera with black Fuchs alloys. It was a lean, purist machine—no rear wing, no power steering, and a five-speed manual gearbox. In those days, a 911 was a proper driver’s car, demanding skill and rewarding commitment. At the time, I was testing it alongside a 944 Turbo, a car that, in my native Australia, cost virtually the same as the 911 Carrera. The 944 had more power, more torque, and was faster—with far less drama—than its legendary sibling. Yet, somehow, I fell for the 911. As I wrote back then, “After two days and 600 miles, I’m certain. I know the 944 Turbo is the better car. But I also know that if it came to the crunch, that if it were me agonizing over how to spend my money, I’d take the 911 Carrera home.” It wasn’t a simple decision. “The 944 Turbo is so competent, it can make a bad driver look good,” I reasoned. “Its soaring, searing performance is superbly counterbalanced by a chassis of astounding ability.” But the 911 had a soul. “The gloriously imperfect 911 Carrera is a sports car of a different age and reflects different values. It’s not tailored to meet the needs of most drivers. It demands understanding and respect. That’s why I’d take it home.” I’ve driven countless 911s since then. Apart from the 964 in the early 1990s, which suggested the 911 idea might be past its prime, I’ve marveled at how Porsche has polished its icon, keeping it relevant, exciting, and engaging. Forty years later, it’s still one of the few new cars I’d genuinely spend my own hard-earned dollars on. Of all the 911s I’ve had the privilege of driving over the past four decades, these five stand out as the most memorable. The Original 911 Turbo: Conquering the Widowmaker When I drove that early 3.0-liter Carrera, veteran road testers often spoke of the original Porsche 911 Turbo with a mixture of awe and dread. They said it was a car that demanded the utmost respect, a machine whose binary boost states made the traditional 911 tightrope walk between corner-entry understeer and corner-exit oversteer a task requiring quick hands and nerves of steel. The 911 Turbo, they warned, didn’t forgive mistakes or tolerate sloppiness. Some even called it a widowmaker. It took me 35 years to get behind the wheel of an original 911 Turbo and discover the truth for myself. The car was one of the first 30 production Turbos ever built, and it’s now part of Porsche’s coveted classic fleet. Out on the road, keenly aware of its formidable reputation, I took it very easy at first. I played with the throttle, feeling the boost come in and watching the tach, trying to build a mental map of the power and torque curves. To my surprise, the engine was remarkably tractable. It was happy to hum along at 2,000 rpm in top gear, allowing the 911 Turbo to cruise effortlessly at 45 mph. Once the engine hit 3,500 rpm, however, there was a noticeable acceleration surge as the turbocharger huffed 0.8 bar into the induction system. But the sledgehammer blow between the shoulder blades I had anticipated never materialized. I quickly learned the secret to smooth, rapid progress in the original 911 Turbo: keep the 3.0-liter flat-six spinning at 4,000 rpm or more. This keeps the turbocharger energized, ensuring power is always on tap. Yes, there is turbo lag—very noticeable by modern standards—but it’s manageable. Even after 50 years, this 911 is an impressively fast car on the road. First gear stretches to 50 mph, second to 90 mph, and third to nearly 130 mph. This means it can demolish most winding two-lane roads using only second and third gears. And while it only produces a modest 256 hp, it weighs just 2,513 pounds, allowing it to tackle corners with confidence. Half a century ago, its performance would have seemed otherworldly. The 993: The Swan Song of the Air-Cooled Legends For Porsche purists, the 993 is the last of the line—the final evolution of the real, air-cooled 911. It’s the Porsche you drive with your knuckles grazing the dashboard, the metallic clatter of an air-cooled flat-six singing behind your head. But back in 1994, when I first drove it, the 993 was the 911 of the future, the first to challenge Isaac Newton’s laws of physics. To be clear, the 993 still retained the playful, somewhat flighty front end that required drivers to load the nose on corner entry to hit the apex, and the rear end still danced through rougher turns. However, there was a much greater sense of cohesion between the front and rear. The 993 still did 911 things, but within a far safer and more controlled margin. The key to this transformation was a new rear suspension. Porsche replaced the familiar semi-trailing arms with a new multi-link setup. This allowed for very slight initial toe-out on corner entry, which then transitioned to progressive toe-in as lateral loads increased. Simultaneously, it dramatically reduced the camber change that had been the Achilles’ heel of 911s since 1963. This was combined with a new steering system that was 16 percent quicker, reducing the lock-to-lock to just 2.5 turns. This made the front end feel significantly more decisive. And then there was the new six-speed manual transmission, which perfectly exploited the 3.6-liter flat-six. It delivered its 268 hp peak at 6,100 rpm, thanks to lighter internals, Bosch Motronic 2.0 engine management, and a new dual exhaust system. Compared to the 964 model it replaced, the 993 was a revelation. It wasn’t just the engineering upgrades, executed under the leadership of Ulrich Bez (who later led Aston Martin): the exterior redesign, overseen by design chief Harm Lagaay, corrected the visual flaws of the 964, a car he felt was too tall at the front and too pulled down at the rear. The interior was cleaner too, with fewer buttons scattered in random locations. The 993 was a 911 that was faster, more forgiving, and more desirable than ever before. It remains the benchmark for purists and enthusiasts who value the unique character of air-cooled engineering. The 996: The Hero that Saved Porsche At the time, it was heresy. Porsche’s decision to install a water-cooled flat-six in the tail of the 996-series 911 was, to the aficionado, the automotive equivalent of Bob Dylan ditching his acoustic six-string for a Fender Stratocaster at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival. But the 996, the first clean-sheet redesign of Porsche’s indefatigable sports car in 34 years, was a hero car in my eyes. It was the 911 that saved Porsche from the brink of bankruptcy. Engineered and developed under the direction of Porsche R&D chief Horst Marchart, the 996 was a stroke of genius, not least because it shared 38 percent of its components with an all-new, less expensive mid-engine roadster that the world would come to know as the Boxster. Iconoclastic Porsche boss Wendelin Weideking knew the Boxster was essential to give the company’s dealers something else to sell when the aging 928 and 968 models were phased out. “We did two cars for the price of one-and-a-half,” design boss Lagaay later quipped with a smile after the company unveiled the 996. But while the media fixation was on its relationship with the Boxster and the water-cooled engine, the 996’s real story ran much deeper. In 1994, it took Porsche 130 hours to build a 993-series 911; the 996 took just 60 hours to build. The modern 911 had arrived. It was roomier, equipped with all the features expected of a late 20th-century sports car, and yet it remained recognizably Porsche’s icon. Most importantly, it still drove like a 911—only better. Yes, there was a new veneer of sophistication to the way it went about its business, but the 996 retained