Its 20:03, the little guy is being put to bed by his Mom, and I’m on my way out to our local garage for sweets, chocolate, and emergency ice creams. The fate of our Marvel Franchise omnibus is at stake. What seems to be a routine trip to the garage is however very complicated on this Covid-19 filled evening, as what is now staring at me were the typical ‘Dad mobile’ lives, is a very low, agile, two-seater cars that Dads surely can’t drive?! It’s a Porsche 718 GT4, and the short run to the local garage will definitely not do, as I need to make sure we exercise the long ratios from the six-speed *glasses mist up* manual gearbox that’s in this vehicle.
Before I get into the meat as to the kind of child I turned into in my short time with this little monster from Stuttgart, we need to start at the beginning. You see, when I learned to drive and in fact, the vehicle that I passed my driver’s license in, was also from a European manufacturer that just like Porsche, has a six-cylinder configuration which has long been the engine of choice for them as well. My little brother, now known to many as the host of Ignition GT, was a mere lad that somehow always found himself in my passenger seat on trips to the shops, ordinarily late in the evening where the air has cooled, and a naturally aspirated motor can sing the song of its people. Those nights, mixed with general male mischief was the foundation of our love for cars and as soon as the vehicle shaped key was slotted into the GT4’s slot and turned clockwise, the familiar chatter of a six-cylinder firing up to its resting idle, albeit in a Porsche flat engine formation, brought me right back to those nights.
Driving at walking speeds, not because I’m a responsible resident in my estate, but as I didn’t want to catch the lip spoiler, you can tell that this is an analogue driving machine. It’s unhappy at low revs, wanting to hold on to its lowest gear possible to make sure that you have some torque at least. You see, this is old school. Here, you have to look for the performance. At normal speeds, the GT4 is happy to cruise along with its soundtrack gently whispering sweet nothings to you while its Racing seat holds you together like a Twinkie. Coming to the main road, nursing the clutch out, and its “GO GO GO” away from a green light, while burying your go faster foot into the carpet and the six comes alive. No, this is not a wave of torque that you ride like in a turbocharged or supercharged vehicle but rather like a snowball that gets quicker, louder, blurrier and more intoxicating with every thousand revolution that passes. I had executed my award-winning gear-changes countless times, but there is still a moment of nervousness about messing this one up. Not this time, as it slots into place and the tachometer begins its race again to the red line, clutch, grabbing a handful of third and you’re now chasing speeds that are above the national limit-Driven by the sheer awesomeness has you thinking that even in prison, I will be as hardcore as this car that under me. At the red line in third, you realise how tall the gearing is as you are now just over the 160kph mark and out of pure shock, you back off and the car slows down because of the compression, it’s on overrun, slowing down and you as you near the next red light. The guy asking for change doesn’t even come near you. He is reasoning with himself that even though his situation is terrible, it’s no worse than a fat man ugly crying in a sports car, at a light, just before curfew.
What brings about the ugly tears and face, is the heart of the beast, in this case, it is a 4.0l, naturally aspirated motor. Producing 309kW and 420 Nm of torque with a redline sitting at 8 000rpm, the GT4 can get you to from 0-100kph in 4.4 seconds and a top speed of a 300kph. What rewires you is the power delivery. From the first time you bury your foot, the millennium in all of us asks, “where is the power?” No young one, you have much to learn. You see, instant gratification, is the norm especially now with every motor either packing a turbo or a supercharger and sometimes, both. This has led to the birth of the “PlayStation Racer” (Patent Pending) You see, this is the type of driver that just holds the steering, his turbocharged motor, at full boost, waiting for the brake to be released as launch control has been activated. The left foot comes off the pedal and the driver, using his unparalleled skill to hold the car straight, goes through the automatic gears and boom, another 1/4 mile done in about eleven seconds, and our man is a hero! Not in the GT4.
This is a vehicle that is so basic but yet so rewarding to drive that in its category, has no real comparison. This is a vehicle that is ten, yes TEN seconds quicker than its predecessor at the “Green Hell”, and if you don’t know where the Green Hell is, then this isn’t the car the for you. It begs you to dig and as you dig deeper and deeper into its skillset and bag of tricks, it’s then where you realise that manufacturers don’t have this sort of offering anymore. This is a vehicle that lets you dictate the speed and the tempo of the drive with all of your inputs. A vehicle that has left the changing of cogs to you and you only. A vehicle that has no assistance in getting more air into its lungs, to the point that you can hear the inlet manifold sucking in air that echoes within the snug cabin, and at the same time, the spent air coming from the standard sports exhaust encouraging you to send it all the way to the red line again, and again and again.
The GT4 is by far the most rewarding drive in this “truck crashing into a train while carrying several tons of fuel, driven by an infant into a parked plane” of a year. A beautiful reminder that some manufactures have stuck to their guns and have made a car that will still, in this everchanging climate, make you childishly grin from ear to ear. Porsche is a brand that feds into the simple pleasures, when their clients requested a manual in the GT3, they looked back and said, “would you like that with six or seven ratios”. A manufacturer that in 2020, has given us a naturally aspirated motor, married to a perfectly weighted gearbox and clutch. Just wow.
For those wondering the fate of the snacks, I should express in fact, the only reason why I remembered that I needed to bring snacks is due to the eventual decision to be on my way home. I stopped to feed that glorious six-cylinder and remembered why I had left home in the first place. That, with full knowledge that you have been gone for at least two hours, the window of movie watching is far out of scope, and you come home to a fire breathing lady that just wanted to have some snacks while watching the God of Thunder. Sorry babe, but so worth it, what a car!!