The car is beat up. Its headlights have gone hazy, the black paint has lost its gloss, and the interior is ragged, with the door panels and console nicked and peeling. It seems someone loved this car and used it hard. Actually, did they love it at all?
I twist the key, and the 2011 Porsche 911 Carrera S starts up with a hearty thrum. The PDK transmission shifts smoothly into drive, then I’m off. Maybe this 911 is a mechanical diamond in the rough?
My first dynamic impressions are made in the parking lot. Winding through the aisles at 10 mph, the steering resistance is light…and, dare I say, loose? Are the mechanical linkages as tired as the cosmetics? I hope not because fabulous steering feel is the reason I’m lusting after a 997.2 911.
I’m out of the lot and onto the street. The paving in Pleasant Hill is lumpy, and the undulations bubble up through the steering rack in mild waves of to-and-fro tugging. Good! The sublime feedback is still present in this $54k beater!
The road may be lumpy, but I’m feeling quite cozy, as the 18-way sports seats support me nicely in a friendly hug. The PASM suspension covers the bumps without unnecessary jostling. I can easily see living with a 911 Carrera S every day.
A highway onramp beckons. I prod the Sport+ button to flip the 911 into attack mode. The transmission drops to the most aggressive gear, the suspension firms, and the throttle response sharpens. When I peg the throttle and the fat rear tires—295/30 R19 Pirelli P Zeros—put the torque to the tarmac and launch the 911 onto the freeway. The 997.2 Carrera S is a fast car by the standards of its era. But if I compare it to its modern incarnation, the 992 911 Carrera S, the 997.2 feels like a minor league batter struggling to keep pace in the major league sluggers.
Now that I’m moving at the speed of traffic, the 997.2 is much like any other 911. There is pronounced, but livable, tire noise. The seating position, driving ergonomics and outward visibility are all excellent. And the suspension cruises comfortably. A long road trip would absolutely play to the car’s strengths!
While I’m scanning the many buttons on the dash—Sport, Sport+, suspension, spoiler, stability control, and so on—I accidentally miss my exit. My error is a blessing in disguise because the next exit crosses the highway in a long, sweeping overpass with a delicious mid-corner bump. The 911 soaks up the bump without a drop of sweat. 997.1s could feel floaty in their soft suspension mode, but the 997.2 is planted.
At the first opportunity, I chuck the 911 into a hasty U-turn to return to the highway. Whipping the steering to the left and pegging the throttle, the 911’s front plows conspicuously across the road. It’s a half-second that runs in slo-mo: My eyes widen as the front tires scrub across the lanes, then the front-end finally bites, and the car rotates away from the ditch. There are more classic 911 dynamics remaining in the 997.2 than I expected!
I blast up the onramp, running to the 7,500 rpm redline in second and third gears. With Sport+ engaged, each upshift comes with a gentle pat on the back. (Aren’t PDKs supposed to be seamlessly smooth?) The 9A1 engine sounds good when it’s working hard, but perhaps the older M97 from the 997.1 sounded sweeter?
By the time I merge onto the freeway, I’m blasting past traffic in the right lane, and the speedo needle is pointing at a surprisingly large number. I stand hard on the (firm) brake pedal, and the front tires skid briefly as I slow to legal speeds.
The push I experienced in the U-turn makes me wonder about the 911’s handling. Lightly, I saw back-and-forth at the wheel, cutting side-to-side in my lane. In response to my inputs, the 911 does a two-step dance: The front-end reacts first, and then—a moment later—the rear-end joins it. It’s clearly something for a driver to learn and master. (But to me, the 997.2 911 feels less responsive and less cohesive than the front-engined rear-wheel-drive sports cars I’m used to.)
I’m back at the missed exit, a large cloverleaf interchange. It’s the closest thing to a skid pad that’s available in this 20-minute test drive!
As I orbit the long 270-degree turns, I ease the 911 towards its limits. The lightly-weighted 235/35 R19 Pirelli P Zeros continue to disappoint. They are slow to react to my initial steering inputs, and they give up grip much earlier than the behemoth rear tires. As a result, the car feels reluctant to turn in and quick to understeer.
My 20 minutes are done. As I pull into the dealership, I’m tying myself in intellectual knots. Are the dynamic foibles I found on this test drive particular to this 911 and its Pirelli P Zero rubber, or are they traits of all 997.2s? It’s a question I can’t answer, but I have no doubt that at $54k, this 2011 911 Carrera S is not twice as fun, twice as fast, or twice as luxurious as my 2011 BMW M3. I won’t be trading my M3 for a 911 today.
2011 BMW M3
I return the 911 keys to the dealer and climb into my M3. Thanks to the extended Sakhir orange leather and more robust plastics, plus my careful upkeep, the M3’s cabin is clean, beautiful, and unblemished. I prefer its appearance and durability. The M3’s seats are as comfortable as the 911’s, though the M3’s are mounted a bit too high, and they lack a firm hug on my torso.
I start retracing the test route in the M3. Over the surface streets and down the highways, the M3 makes mountains out of molehills. Bumps that were comfortably covered in the 911 thump harder in the M3. Neither car is Cadillac smooth, but the Porsche’s suspension was more supple.
The M3’s cabin is quieter than the 911’s, with less tire roar and wind rush. The reduced road noise lets the sweet induction sounds from the V8 sing. I prefer the V8’s song over the flat-six’s.
Punch for punch, 911 has a healthier midrange but a less frenetic top-end. The two cars feel roughly as fast as one another, but the M3 is more exciting to rev to the redline because of the building power through the final RPMs.
My preference for the M3 is unequivocally sealed in the corners. When I chuck the M3 into the U-turn, it exits with a giddy powerslide that lights up my face with the biggest smile. When I tuck into the cloverleaf, the M3 vectors in with sharpness and immediacy. The sedan quickly settles into a neutral cornering stance, then lets me control the grip across the outside tires with precise throttle inputs. The M3 has surgical levels of precision that the 997.2 911 lacks.
Considering my handling preferences, perhaps I’m actually a Cayman guy?
Mike's Steering Column 