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The Legends of the Open Road: Angus MacKenzie’s Five All-Time Favorite Porsche 911s By Angus MacKenzie Forty years. It’s difficult to believe how quickly time has passed since I first got behind the wheel of a Porsche 911. That debut experience remains vivid in my mind: a white 3.0-liter Carrera adorned with black Fuchs wheels, a slim body devoid of any rear wing, no power steering, and a five-speed manual. In its essence, it was a pure embodiment of the 911 philosophy. It was undeniably fast, but it wasn’t flawless. Initially, I questioned the hype surrounding this automotive icon. My perspective was perhaps skewed by the company it kept during that test. The 944 Turbo, a contemporary of that Carrera, cost virtually the same in my home country of Australia. But the 944 boasted more power and torque, and in the real world, it effortlessly outpaced the 911 across any road. Yet, despite the logical superiority of the 944, I found myself utterly captivated by the 911. As I reflected 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.” It wasn’t a decision I reached easily. I conceded, “The 944 Turbo is so competent, it can make a bad driver look good. Its soaring, searing performance is superbly counterbalanced by a chassis of astounding ability.” However, the 911 tugged at something deeper. “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 piloted dozens of 911s. With every iteration—except perhaps the 964, which in the early 1990s seemed to suggest the 911 idea had passed its expiration date—I’ve been astounded by Porsche’s ability to refine its icon, maintaining its relevance, excitement, and engagement. Four decades on, the 911 remains one of the few new cars I would happily purchase with my own money. Of all the 911s I’ve experienced over the past 40 years, these are the five that have left the most indelible impression. The Original 911 Turbo (930) Back in the day when I drove that 3.0-liter Carrera, veteran road-test journalists spoke of the original Porsche 911 Turbo in almost reverential tones. They described it as a car that demanded the utmost respect when driven with intent, a machine whose binary boost characteristics transformed the traditional 911 tightrope walk between corner-entry understeer and corner-exit oversteer into a job for the brave and fast. The original 911 Turbo did not tolerate mistakes or sloppiness. It was, they warned, a widowmaker. It took me 35 years to actually get behind the wheel of an original 930 and discover the truth for myself. The car I experienced was one of the first 30 production Turbos ever built, now residing in Porsche’s prestigious heritage fleet. Aware of its fearsome reputation, I drove it very cautiously at first, playing with the throttle, feeling the turbo boost build and watching the tachometer needle climb, trying to create a mental map of the power and torque curves. The engine was remarkably tractable, content to murmur along at 2,000 rpm in top gear as the 911 Turbo trickled along at 45 mph. However, once the engine hit 3,500 rpm, there was a palpable surge of acceleration as the turbocharger pumped 0.8 bar into the induction system. Surprisingly, the sledgehammer blow to the shoulders I had been warned about never materialized. I learned that the trick to smooth and rapid progress in the original 911 Turbo was to keep the 3.0-liter flat-six spinning at 4,000 rpm or higher to keep the turbocharger energized. Yes, there is turbo lag—by modern standards, it is very noticeable—but it is entirely manageable. Even after more than half a century, this 911 is an astonishingly fast car on the road. The first gear stretches to 50 mph, second to 90 mph, and third to nearly 130 mph, meaning it can devour winding back roads using only second and third gears. And while it might have a modest 256 hp, it weighs just 2,513 pounds, allowing it to dance in and out of corners with agility. Fifty years ago, its performance would have seemed otherworldly. The 993-Generation Porsche 911 For Porsche purists, this is the last of the true 911s. This is the car you drive with your knuckles grazing the dashboard, the snarling metallic clatter of an air-cooled flat-six symphony echoing behind you. Yet, back in 1994, when I first drove it, the 993 was the 911 of the future, the first in the line to challenge the laws of physics. Of course, the 993 still possessed that slightly tippy front end that required careful loading to hit the apex, and the rear end still exhibited a lively dance through rougher turns. However, there was a much greater synergy between the front and rear. The 993 still felt like a 911, but within a far more accommodating framework. The key to this transformation was a revolutionary rear suspension that replaced the semi-trailing arms of old with a sophisticated multilink setup. This design allowed for very slight initial toe-out during corner entry, which then progressed to controlled toe-in as lateral loads increased, all while significantly reducing the camber change that had been the Achilles’ heel of 911s since their debut in 1963. This breakthrough was paired with steering that was 16 percent quicker, with only 2.5 turns lock-to-lock, making the front end feel far more decisive. Furthermore, the new six-speed manual transmission perfectly complemented the 3.6-liter flat-six, which now reached its 268-hp peak at 6,100 rpm thanks to lighter internals, an advanced Bosch Motronic 2.0 engine management system, and a revised dual exhaust. Compared to its predecessor, the 964, the 993 was a revelation. It wasn’t just the engineering upgrades, implemented under the leadership of Ulrich Bez (who later headed Aston Martin); it was also the exterior redesign. Under the direction of design chief Harm Lagaay, the 993 corrected the visual flaws of the 964, a car he considered too tall at the front and disproportionately low at the rear. The interior was cleaner, too, with fewer buttons scattered haphazardly. The 993 was a 911 that was faster and more forgiving than ever before. And, perhaps most importantly, it was more desirable. The 996-Generation Porsche 911 At the time, it was considered 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 purists, 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 indomitable sports car in 34 years, was a hero car in my book. It was the 911 that saved Porsche. Engineered and developed under the direction of Porsche R&D chief Horst Marchart, the 996 was a masterclass in clever engineering. It shared 38 percent of its components with an all-new, more affordable mid-engine roadster that the world would come to know as the Boxster. Porsche’s visionary boss, Wendelin Wiedeking, understood the necessity of the Boxster to provide dealers with additional inventory once the aging 928 and 968 models went out of production. Design chief Lagaay famously quipped after the company unveiled the 996, “We did two cars for the price of one-and-a-half.” While media attention focused on its relationship with the Boxster and the water-cooled engine, the 996’s true significance ran far deeper. In 1994, it took Porsche 130 hours to build a 993-series 911; the 996 required only 60 hours. The modern 911 had arrived: roomier and equipped with all the features expected of a late-20th-century sports car, yet still instantly recognizable as a Porsche. Most importantly, it still drove like a 911. Only better. Yes, there was a new veneer of sophistication to the way it conducted its business, but the 996 retained the exquisite tactility and urgent response that had made the 911 a sports car like no