The Icons: Five Porsche 911s That Defined My Career
It’s difficult to wrap my head around the fact that four decades have passed since I first got behind the wheel of a Porsche 911. It was a pristine white 3.0-liter Carrera, rolling on black Fuchs alloys. With its narrow body, lack of a rear wing, manual five-speed gearbox, and no power steering, it was as pure a 911 as Porsche has ever put on the road. I remember it being fast, yet flawed—a car that, initially, left me wondering what all the fuss was about.
Perhaps my skepticism stemmed from the company I kept that day. I was testing the 911 Carrera alongside a 944 Turbo, a car that, at the time in Australia, cost virtually the same price. The 944 Turbo outperformed the 911 in every metric, offering more power, more torque, and faster acceleration with far less effort on any winding road. But the 911, despite its comparative lack of competence, had an undeniable pull.
As I wrote in my review: “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.”
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The Icons: Five Porsche 911s That Defined My Career
It’s difficult to wrap my head around the fact that four decades have passed since I first got behind the wheel of a Porsche 911. It was a pristine white 3.0-liter Carrera, rolling on black Fuchs alloys. With its narrow body, lack of a rear wing, manual five-speed gearbox, and no power steering, it was as pure a 911 as Porsche has ever put on the road. I remember it being fast, yet flawed—a car that, initially, left me wondering what all the fuss was about.
Perhaps my skepticism stemmed from the company I kept that day. I was testing the 911 Carrera alongside a 944 Turbo, a car that, at the time in Australia, cost virtually the same price. The 944 Turbo outperformed the 911 in every metric, offering more power, more torque, and faster acceleration with far less effort on any winding road. But the 911, despite its comparative lack of competence, had an undeniable pull.
As I wrote in my review: “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.”
That conclusion wasn’t reached lightly. “The 944 Turbo is so competent, it can make a bad driver look good,” I admitted. “Its soaring, searing performance is superbly counterbalanced by a chassis of astounding ability.” Yet, the 911 tugged at my emotions. “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.”
Since then, I’ve driven dozens of 911 variants. Apart from the 964, which in the early 1990s seemed to signal the end of the 911 idea, Porsche has consistently refined its icon, keeping it relevant, exciting, and engaging. Four decades later, the 911 remains one of the few new cars I’d still spend my hard-earned money on. From the vast array of 911 models I’ve tested over the past 40 years, these five stand out as the most memorable.
The Original 911 Turbo (930)
Back when I first drove that 3.0-liter Carrera, veteran road-test journalists spoke of the original Porsche 911 Turbo in hushed, reverent tones. They described it as a car that demanded the utmost respect when driven with intent—a machine whose binary boost behavior turned the traditional 911 tightrope walk between corner-entry understeer and corner-exit oversteer into a task requiring quick hands and nerves of steel. The 911 Turbo, they warned, tolerated no mistakes and no sloppiness. It was, in their words, a widowmaker.
It took me 35 years to finally get behind the wheel of an original 911 Turbo and discover the truth for myself.
The car I tested was one of the first 30 production Turbos ever built, now preserved in Porsche’s enviable classic fleet. Aware of its fearsome reputation, I approached it cautiously, gently testing the throttle, feeling the boost build pressure, and watching the tachometer, trying to create a mental map of its power and torque curves. The engine proved remarkably tractable, happy to purr along at 2,000 rpm in top gear, allowing the 911 Turbo to trickle along at 45 mph. Once the engine reached 3,500 rpm, however, a noticeable surge in acceleration kicked in as the turbocharger forced 0.8 bar of pressure into the induction system. But the sledgehammer blow between the shoulder blades I expected wasn’t there.
I quickly learned the secret to smooth, fast progress in the original 911 Turbo: keep the 3.0-liter flat-six spinning at 4,000 rpm or higher to keep the turbocharger energized. Yes, there is noticeable turbo lag by modern standards, but it’s entirely manageable. Even after more than 50 years, this 911 is still an impressively fast car on the road. First gear reaches 50 mph, second gear 90 mph, and third gear nearly 130 mph, meaning it can devour most winding two-lane roads using only second and third gears. And while it may only produce 256 hp, it weighs just 2,513 pounds, allowing it to transition through corners with surprising ease. Half a century ago, its performance was nothing short of otherworldly.
The 993-Generation Porsche 911
For Porsche purists, the 993 is the final chapter of the original 911 dynasty—the last of the “true” 911s. It’s the car you drive with your knuckles occasionally grazing the dashboard, the snarling metallic clatter of an air-cooled flat-six resonating just behind your head. But back in 1994, when I first drove it, the 993 was the 911 of the future, the first in the lineage to seriously challenge Isaac Newton’s laws of physics.
Sure, the 993 still featured the slightly light front end that demanded careful loading on corner entry to ensure you hit the apex, and the rear end still had a tendency to wiggle through rough turns, but the harmony between the front and rear axles had improved dramatically. The 993 still performed 911 things, but within a much safer margin.
The key to this transformation was a new rear suspension system. It replaced the old semi-trailing arms with a sophisticated multilink setup that provided a very slight initial toe-out on corner entry, followed by progressive toe-in as lateral loads increased. This engineering marvel significantly reduced the camber change that had plagued 911s since 1963. Compounding these improvements was a new six-speed manual transmission that made the most of the 3.6-liter flat-six. The engine offered increased zip, reaching its 268-hp peak at 6,100 rpm, thanks to lighter internal components, Bosch Motronic 2.0 engine management, and a redesigned 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 direction of Ulrich Bez (who later headed Aston Martin): The exterior redesign, spearheaded by design chief Harm Lagaay, corrected the visual flaws of the 964—a car he felt was too tall at the front and too low at the rear. The interior was also cleaner, featuring fewer buttons randomly scattered across the console. The 993 was a 911 that was faster and more forgiving than ever before. Most importantly, however, it was more desirable, too.
The 996-Generation Porsche 911
At the time of its debut, it was heresy. Porsche’s decision to install a water-cooled flat-six in the tail of the 996-series 911 was, in the eyes of the aficionados, the automotive equivalent of Bob Dylan ditching his six-string acoustic guitar and plugging in a Fender Strat 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 heroic machine to me. It was the 911 that saved Porsche.
Engineered and developed under the direction of Porsche R&D chief Horst Marchart, the 996 was a brilliant piece of engineering. Not least because it shared 38 percent of its components with an all-new, less expensive mid-engine roadster that the world would soon come to know as the Boxster. Iconoclastic Porsche boss Wendelin Weideking understood that the Boxster was essential to keep dealerships stocked once the aging 928 and 968 models were discontinued. “We did two cars for the price of one-and-a-half,” design boss Lagaay remarked with a smile after the company unveiled the 996.
But while the media focused on its relationship with the Boxster and the water-cooled engine, the 996’s true significance ran much deeper. In 1994, it took Porsche 130 hours to build a 993-series 911; the 996 took just 60 hours to assemble. The modern 911 had arrived: roomier and equipped with all the features expected of a late 20th-century sports car, yet still recognizably Porsche’s icon. Most importantly, it still drove like a 911. Only better. A new veneer of sophistication was evident in its operations, but the 996 retained the delightful tactility and urgent responsiveness that had always made the 911 a sports car like no other. Along with the original Boxster, it pulled Porsche back from the brink of extinction.
The 991.2-Generation Porsche 911 Carrera
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