More displacement, bigger hips, but still no third pedal. Is the RS a better GT3?
Porsche's Weissach test track is an especially pernicious snake's nest of asphalt in the hills above Stuttgart. It is the proving ground for the unfathomable quantities of new products and technologies developed within Porsche's R&D headquarters. The place is huge and, judging by the canopy of cranes, still growing.
I once asked R&D boss man Wolfgang Hatz what made Weissach so special. He paused and said: "It is one of the few places on earth where you can build an entire car without leaving the facility. The whole car, from the first components to testing it on circuit."
Weissach is as much a part of company legend as Fiorano is for Ferrari, but for quite different reasons. This is a proving ground, not a racetrack. It is in constant use, and because there is no runoff, Porsche doesn't often introduce new models to the media here. Today it's made an exception. I have two hours to drive the new 911 GT3 RS around Weissach. Each of the corners is allegedly named after the Porsche executive who crashed there. Helpful intel, that.
In some ways, the RS exists as Porsche's redemption for last year's GT3 issues. The recalls to replace engines not only cost the company millions, they potentially damaged the reputation of Porsche's GT department, which was enjoying its most successful period in the company's history.
Accordingly, it's no surprise that the RS uses a heavily amended engine. The 3.8-liter flat-six has been stroked to 4.0 liters and has a new intake system. Its crank is cast using metallurgy techniques honed with the 919 Le Mans race car. Peak figures are eye-popping for a naturally aspirated 911: 493 hp at 8250 rpm and 388 lb-ft at 6250 rpm.
The development team is mighty pleased with the Turbo-body side intakes: They allowed a much more accurate and concentrated airflow for the revised intake system and, perhaps most important, led everyone to suggest from spy shots that this car would be turbocharged. The Porsche types do enjoy a snigger at our ignorance.
While the 3.8 revs to nine grand, the 4.0 runs out of puff at 8800 rpm. Its extra four millimeters of stroke increases both airflow through the engine and internal friction. The bigger-displacement engine can't handle nine grand. As with the last RS, the rear exhaust box is titanium. Unlike the last RS, there is no manual transmission, but that does at least give me something to moan about later in the story.
The wider Turbo body and increased track widths would look more extreme if the wheels and tires were not so damn huge. The 20-inch front tires run a 265-section, while the rears are vast 325-sections on 21-inch rims. If, like me, you're wondering how the front tires manage not to foul the wheel arches on full lock, you'll be glad to know they do rub just a bit. But Andreas Preuninger, chief of the GT department, and his team wanted the best front-axle grip possible and figured that owners would sacrifice some noise for lap times.
That attitude pervades the whole machine. I think we've become quite well conditioned to the Porsche fast-car strategy: The GT3 comes along, and then a year later, the RS adds some more poke and attitude, takes away some weight, and assumes a loud color. But this 991-chassis RS seems a whole lot angrier than the GT3.
Take the aerodynamics. I mean, you can digest the claimed numbers—a few hundred more pounds of this and that at some speed—but you'll never be able to verify them. Instead, look at the chin. Look at the size and angle of the rear wing. Look at the front-fender exits. In my experience, these things make a car much stickier at high cornering speeds, but sadly, Weissach doesn't have many fast turns.
Then again, in the rush to get here from the Swabian hills, I ran the RS fast on the autobahn, where it romped straight to 180 mph and then hit an invisible wall. That's another thing big wings tend to do.
I cannot tell you how glad I am that Porsche decided to fit the smaller, slightly dished steering wheel from the 918 Spyder. With an interior that is mostly normal 991, you need something to lift the GT3 RS beyond the ordinary, especially when the trophy of corporate capitulation, the PDK lever, lurks between the seats. There's a smattering of RS logos, and the 918 also donates its carbon bucket seats; 18-way adaptive sport seats are a no-cost option.
Compared with the GT3, there's a little more low-frequency ba-boom from the RS when it starts. Everything else is familiar bar the smaller wheel. I like the smaller wheel. And I like the track—the place reeks, nay, stinks of heritage. This is where Donohue had a few glasses of wine over lunch, then drove a 917 so fast, Porsche's test driver went home. This is where every great 911 road car has been developed. This is one of the worst places in the world to crash.
It's a warm day and it takes half a lap to nod approvingly at the front-axle grip. When, or perhaps if, the world calms down over the previous-generation, now legendary 997-chassis cars, it will realize that the 991 has many inherent advantages over the 997, most of them due to the longer wheelbase. But anyone who tracks or races a 911 always ends up looking for front grip. The RS delivers it like I didn't think possible.
The wider track and broad Michelin Pilot Sport Cup 2s mean the car just scoots from turn entry to apex. It feels entirely intuitive and measured, but of course this car is fitted with rear steering, so the development process must have been somewhat complicated. You can carry so much speed into corners that you don't feel like you're using much of the traction capabilities on corner exit. The shocking discovery is that your inclinations are correct. With the systems on, you push harder and the traction is silly—and the subtle intervention of the electronics when you eventually think, Screw it, I'm going to mash the throttle and see what happens, is equally mesmerizing.
The calibration work is outstanding. This feels like a completely raw, organic driving experience, yet it is actually profoundly complicated and disconnected: Even the electric power steering feels good to me. But then, in consistent conditions, electric steering has always been okay; it's when you need information on wet roads that it falls apart. I'll need some precipitation for a definitive view.
It is hard to investigate the chassis and brakes, because all your head can really acknowledge is that 493-hp event going off behind you. The twin side intakes give little suggestion of making different noise than the 3.8 at idle, but under full load, the thing is scintillating. It accrues revs so fast and loves to be working beyond 7000 rpm, by which time it's already feeling much stronger than the 3.8. Porsche has modified the existing gearbox, and it is now even crisper and faster-shifting. It's the best dual-clutch I've ever used, which makes it about one-tenth as good as a decent manual transmission. But this car is paddles only, and my partisan views on such things do not belong here. (Oh, but they do —Ed.) I fookin' hate paddles.
The test car was running optional carbon-ceramic brakes (16.1-inch front, 15.4-inch rear), and they must be among the most powerful on any street-legal car. They're the final piece in the transformation over previous RS models. The front-end limitations of those cars, especially under braking, were both tire- and differential-related. With a much wider contact patch and now a completely variable locking rear differential that can free up on coast and allow the car to brake and turn a little, the 991 RS is miles more effective than those 997 models.
Unusually, with the extra mechanical grip comes perhaps the best-balanced, most stable 911 chassis of all. With the systems switched off, you can provoke the RS into all manner of angles, but the way it can be persuaded to rotate its hips under braking and be held with small amounts of corrective lock is astounding. Even more so when you consider the width of the rear rubber.
You can see the results of this tomfoolery in the pictures. Like all the finest RS models, the 991 can play both accurate apex scratcher and Michelin-stock-price-improving smoke weapon. It is also a heavy endorsement of the rear-engine concept, because the inherent traction is always a bonus with so much power. I cannot wait to drive this car alongside a Ferrari 458 Speciale; I think rear traction will be one of the biggest differences.
The immersive nature of this machine is best summarized by the fact that I haven't even mentioned the technical wizardry of Weissach itself. For everything but wing grip, it's a brilliant place to demonstrate a car of this type. The cambers are punishing, the surfaces change, the braking zones are harsh. Just as it's no surprise Ferraris tend to work rather well at Fiorano, you'd expect the RS to impress at Weissach, but the talent bowl is overflowing here. This is a genuinely special car.
Before the track hours, I'd driven the RS on the roads south of Stuttgart. Accepting that the 911 is a very wide car now, it's hard to reconcile the mature road manners with the nutjob I drove on the circuit. The ride is pretty good with the dampers in their softest setting, both the fixed-back carbon buckets and the sport seats are comfortable, and even the stereo is good.
Let's face it, for over a decade Porsche has owned this nichette—the massively fast, enjoyable track car that can still be driven on the street. And it still does. Only a 458 Speciale comes close, but it's way more expensive. Bursting with character and ability, the 991 RS deserves the badge as much as any of its predecessors. If you have even the slimmest chance of owning one, do so.
Source: Road and Track
