It's not you, it's me - Part #2

To follow on from my waffling on adjusting expectations for a vintage car, a short while ago I spent a weekend in Wales simply driving the 911. The reasons for this trip were manifold; I needed a good spin to close a year that had been quiet on the car adventure front (Not one trackday! No Ring trip!), I needed some fresh roads, I wanted to spend some more quality driving time with the new car, and it was a good excuse to round up a few people to share the adventure and some beers with too.

So Wales was booked. Preparations were little; after the geometry adjustment (-3.9deg neg front camber reduced to -2deg which is about as much as I can do on the current ride height without camber plates, and that can wait until I replace the entire platform, which will be another 12-18months and another thread) I had swapped the front tyres from side to side to even wear. The tyre outlet had the fronts at 34psi which was way higher than needed, so I dropped the fronts to 26psi & rears to 32psi. Oil level was checked, offside main beam fuse replaced, windows RainEx’d outside and glass polished inside, 2 new headlight bulbs put in, tank topped up and off we went.

I’ve mentioned already that the cars first revelation for me was its touring ability – the night run to Dublin reinforced that, the front boot taking a weeks worth of work & leisure paraphernalia and delivering me fresh that night. It being my first night drive, I did notice the lights are LHD; I got no flashes from other road users as they are set low enough, but something to put right in time. The passenger door is also not sealing right at the top and once past 80-90kph starts to whistle. This seems due to a window frame that deflects outward slightly on putting the window down and up again. Finally, on sustained driving at 125kph @ circa 3,400rpm the exhaust does heat up and become a bit more boomy around the interior; I’m prepared to consider this an acceptable compromise for the wonderful noises it produces the remainder of the time. Other than that it was comfortable and hassle-free.

With the few days work completed, it was off to Dublin Port for an early Swift ferry to Wales. Unlike some of the other exotica on the trip the approach & departure angles in & out of the ferry were fine (I didn’t check wading depth, thankfully!) and we were all filling up with Tescos finest on the other side ahead of schedule and ready for some hills.

Less than an hour later we were on to some more entertaining roads. If you have been reading my other posts, you’ve noted that I had been struggling with the interfaces of the car, mainly the gearchange and pedal box. There were ok in normal use but when you are on more challenging roads that require concentration on line, traffic, bumps and so forth then my driving was a bit scrappier than I’d like. So my big challenge for the trip was to up-skill. Thankfully, it happened fairly quickly much to my relief and yours, as I’m sure you are sick of me moaning about 915 gearboxes and floor-mounted brake pedals. This meant I was now in a position to focus on the macro part of the weekend and then tell you all what it’s like to pedal on an old 911 a bit.

Everything discussed in the following paragraphs is prefaced by saying that the traditional maxim of ‘quite slow-in, reasonably fast-out’ was applied. Not only do I think this prudent because it is a 911 but also because this is road driving; you need plenty of contingency in braking, in mid-corner sightlines, and for the unexpected. The ‘on the limit’ analysis will have to wait until I get it on a track some time in 2013. In terms of tyres it has healthy BF Goodrich all around on 17” rims – 235/45 on the rear and 205/50 on the front.

So into the first climb which is a mix of tight 45-90deg 2nd gear corners, occasionally damp, more technical than flowing, but wonderful all the same! The luggage and a full tank slung out front, along with the reduced front tyre pressures, make a significant difference to how the car behaves on the initial turn-in phase. Combined with the quality of roads it also means a near-total reduction in rack chatter too, which is one of the things that I feel dates it.

All the above meant that one could hit a real sweet spot with the car on entry – in extremis I'm sure it would come down to juggling the lack of inertia with the ultimate lack of grip that light weight also brings, but in the public domain and into the first ‘driving’ road of the weekend that area of operations is irrelevant and I just enjoyed the lack of inertia and how the wheel weighs up telling me how much grip there is, what camber is there, and so forth. It is wonderfully communicative in that respect at any speed, and as I spent more time with the car my ability to read and understand the messages improved. I think the Elise tells you as much and perhaps as the message is cleaner it might be more useful, but the 911 is more gregarious due both to the amount of information transmitted and also because the wheel is bigger and there is more turns lock to lock. It is just wonderful to have a car telling you everything you need to know and some stuff you don’t; like avidly listening to your grandmother about her pre-war school days while politely ignoring the random unacknowledged flatulence that could make an appearance at any time.

You know pretty early in the turn-in phase if you have it hooked up or not. Once you do it tends to stay resolutely hooked up, which means you can concentrate on apex & exit. The long-travel accelerator means you can meter out power with complete accuracy, so as I wound my way up the hill I tended to keep third except in really tight bits, opening up the steering on exit while easing the foot in, letting the torque swell and merge into some proper bhp as I gathered pace up the steep slopes, between the walls of the open, straight-line bends before braking again. It was a lovely climb and what goes up must come down… The other side was bumpier, with less of a smooth surface which allowed a more honest appraisal of grip. It was more Irish, in short. Nice descent though, with some good bends and some wonderful views.

The next hour or so was spent in the valleys enjoying the surrounding mountains, the rich autumnal colours, the winding roads and just letting the car breathe with the tarmac really. It seemed to be enjoying itself too, and was running a treat. My footwork had come together, I was having no issue with the ‘box at all, getting the foot placed perfectly on the brake for the blip on downchanges, a slight throttle blip on the way up too ensuring an easy slip into gear when not chasing the fastest of cog-swaps, and when required I was moving around the ‘box swiftly, accurately, and with little mechanical protest. Awesome.

After lunch we made our way into some more hills. I had noted (nearly the hard way behind a Mitsubishi flatbed in front of me that stopped without me noticing) that the braking was becoming a little inconsistent in terms of bite point. Covering the brake seemed to pile heat into them, and on top of that I think the rears have to deal with a lot of heat from the silencers on both sides right beside them, and on the front the oil lines run on the offside arch – it is amazing to feel the heat that comes out of that arch when standing stationary. So brake bite point was a moving feast and stayed so over the weekend - denting confidence a bit but they delivered when required. As it has fresh Dot 5.1 fluid since April and braided lines I think the unknown pads need to go for a set of FR pads, and maybe a pair of those brakes ducts that replace the driving lights to get some cool air in. Another job to the growing list of 'to do's.

The afternoon mountain roads saw a great mix of technical bits and more open flowing roads. One particular section was so good we turned around and did it again. It started with a steep winding climb including 2 hairpins on damp, leaf-strewn tarmac. The point of slip on the front end under braking is the first dynamic 'blink' in the car so a healthly margin of safety into the bends is always required. This slightly lower limit of grip-to-slip is not mirrored in the rear - the traction out of the 911 is mind-boggling. So you get yourself well set up on an entry, taking your time, blipping down the 'box, revs flaring instantly with the light flywheel effect, into second. Head turns ahead of bend, looking, looking to see it is clear . It is, so you mind the front, now you know the hairpin is opening, so you ease the foot in, then more, then it is nailed to the bulkhead - the rear end is squat, the Mezger is digging in hard and yet still the rear is absolute. No slip, just shooting out of the hairpin. I repeat on the next sighted one, more grunt earlier, no difference. It just squats and goes. Remarkable.

The road climbs up into the trees with more light getting through, and the combinations of lefts and rights become less frequent and shallower. 3rd is the gear now, moving into 4th as the road opens out on to hilltop moorland. Is there anything more exciting to behold than emerging from the conifers to see a landscape of undulating burnt orange spreading out for miles, and a strip of tarmac draped over it for at least a mile, empty, with several bends in between? 4th is hooked and now it is about maintaining momentum. A dotted centre line is an invitation to use the full road, and so you move left to right to centre, setting up the car to chamfer the worst off the bends apexes, feeling the mass move about as it parrys bumps and cambers at bigger speeds, feeling the unique balance a 911 has.

 

911s have a reputation. Old ones in particular. I mentioned the tyres at the start of this because I think they move the problems inherent with the layout so far away they aren't an issue, and they leave you concentrate on what is unique about the air-cooled 911s without (as) much fear. A 1980 SC had 185 15s all round; that'd have the nuances of a 911s balance front & central pretty quick! While it does mean my 911 can feel a bit like the unsprung weight is a bit high or a bit overtyred exiting hairpins, I wouldn't change them.

So 4th gear on the moors. I didn't hook 5th as I wanted the noise and the extra control as we wove our way along. The slightly higher speed means you really feel the natural balance as it manages its mass without it being distracted by 2nd gear power; peel it into a corner, feel the roads crest and hollows underneath, and the front goes into a corkscrew up & down/side to side that is completely out of synch with the more languid rear ends acknowledgement of the same undulation. You would get two waves from the front in the time the rear would do one. If it sounds like the damping on one end is wrong or off, it isn't. The car is really well balanced and approachable. And capable. Staggeringly capable in fact. But you hit combos where it just can't disguise it's layout. It can be interesting! On we run for miles, covering the brakes over crests just in case there's a sheep or something, then digging into the power for the next straight, lift & cover brake on the next crest, repeat for quite a while punctuated by things an opening left into a tightening third gear uphill right with the road clear above.... Motoring Mecca. I will find where that road is relative to my house and pray in that direction every morning.

And then, when you are recovering from the sheer epicness, a giant valley opens with a waterfall , and the road carves down into the mountainside as it descends. Straight, but punctuated by little stabs of second gear left-right-lefts, then opening up. Little protection, sodden from the hill draining across it. It focuses you. And after a while my brakes finally cry enough properly - the travel is just too long, and the response too soft, to progress at any pace. So I gear down and let the air flow over them as I descend futher into some sparse hedgerow and trees.

Turning at the bottom, everyone behind knows they've driven something special. We exchange knowing smiles and few words. And then we go and do it again. Second time around didn't dissappoint. It one of the true greats. I hit back to the hotel for the night, tunes on, relaxing and reflecting on what a brilliant day it was. The 911 switches back to GT mode as it puts away the last of the 200miles of the day, and it slowly registers what it had just done. It had given me one of my seminal motoring moments. Total engagement, honest communication, high objective ability, absolute reward. No caveats. No 'for its age'. It delivered a stonking drive. I wasn't the only one surprised.

 

Day 2 dawned overcast, but full of optimism. We'd another fabulous 200miles ahead - alot of touring, punctuated with some sections of isolated, great roads. A bright, autumnal Wales is a sight to behold. The colours, the contrast of barren slate against lush forests, deep lakes reflecting blue skies, the communities you pass, the good driving, the welcoming towns, the noises of V8s alternately woofling and wailing around you. It was a superb day.

And it wasn't over. Two sections back to back reinforced all discussed above. Technical second and third gear flick-flacks, getting the flow and odd bellow as the top of second was dusted off (it would be rude not to). It was here I hit my first seminal 911 moment. Descending into a left flick, I was trailing the brake into the bend. Don't get too alarmed - this is a good thing in moderation as it gets the weight tranferred to the front tyres and the nose keyed into the bend. It's the big lift-offs or mid bend uncertainties that get you into trouble. So, to my surprise I feel the front wash just a bit on turn-in. I brush the brakes a bit more, and it is like downforce kicking in; nose regains grip and nails the apex. Throttle on, peeyowwwn, out we go. Terrific. As we head out on to more open moorland roads, it get's a lovely rhythym going, front & rear axles communicating the surface, the grip levels, the yumps and bumps and pimples and all the other stuff going on. It doesn't matter than I'm behind a bright green 1.5DCi Clio enjoying the view for a chunk of it.

So. 500miles done in Wales. It barely broke a sweat. Whoever rebuilt this thing back in 2004 I salute you.

I'm not making any more excuses for my Porsche 911. It is just a wonderful, rewarding, capable car.