the two-seater, mid-engined porsche challenge - JZ Machtech

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So, with no Le Mans programme, the obvious thing was to turn the LMP car into a road car? Er, no, not really. That’s a very difficult, expensive and potentially pointless thing to do. Unless, that is, you are facing a glut of supercar competition from all your rivals, plus others like VW who just fancy a bit of the action and have bought Bugatti, and upstarts like Paganni with the weird, yet wonderful Zonda. In this environment, Porsche almost had to build a supercar, and so the go-ahead was given for a no-compromise assault. Porsche’s engineers had a free rein to show what they were capable of. And what they were capable of wasn’t just dusting down the LMP car. Having said that, there wasn’t any restriction on raiding the good bits from other projects, so the race car’s normally-aspirated V10 and its transaxle drive train were commandeered for the cause, which was a logical decision and one that lifted the project beyond Porsche’s ubiquitous flat-six roots. Still, it did mean that the Carrera GT ended up with that damned clutch, which we’ll come to soon. The Carrera GT was unveiled to a dumbstruck press gathering at the Paris Motor show in late 2000. No one had seen it coming. However, public and dealer reaction ensured that it would be built – and with a design team freed from the shackles of the 911’s evolutionary styling remit, it really was a serious departure from what we were used to. The V10 was made civilised with the addition of Variocam valve gear, rather than solid lifters, while the capacity was raised slightly from 5.5-litres to 5.7-litres to give a mighty 605bhp. The sequential shift of the racer and prototype gave way to a normal gate-shift with a synchomesh (although most Porsche endurance racers come with a synchro, anyway. An effective way of protecting the ’box from tired drivers bodging a shift at 3am at Le Mans). Bodywise, the Carrera GT just had to be made from carbon fibre – nothing else would do. The massively strong central carbon tub provided the pick-up points for the front and rear suspension and subframes, all of it being in-board in true sports racer style. The majority of the suspension design was lifted from the LMP car, too. Unlike the 959, the Carrera GT has very little in the way of technology – just a traction control to keep things in check. This was and still is hardcore. Production started in 2003, with a truly supercar price tag of £330,000 – and while Porsche stopped short of an unspecified production run, you can be sure that more Carrera GTs have found homes than Enzos, Zondas and the like. Quite how many will find them in today’s straitened times is a tough one, but it has to be said that, alongside this Carrera GT, Specialist Cars also had a delivery-mileage only, unregistered Carrera GT that it had little trouble shifting at £350,000. So that’s the history, but what about the reality a few years down the line? Well, I’m about to find out. The weather has come good, with one day of sunshine in a week that otherwise promises grey and gloom. My new best friend, aka John Hawkins, has promised an entire day of unrestricted access, save for an essential chauffering period to show me the controls. Just to prove that I can name drop with the best of them when motoring journos get car competitive (and they do), my previous supercar experience lies with the McLaren F1 GTR and ten laps at Castle Combe. This is an experience to be savoured, and I don’t want to just jump straight in. Porsche put a lot of design and detail work into the Carrera GT, and it’s worth soaking it up. Styling-wise it’s not as wild as an Enzo or as wacky as a Zonda. The 62 911 & PORSCHE WORLD
CARRERA GT The front end is the only view that could perhaps be described as bland, but it does retain the Porsche ‘look’. Elsewhere, it’s drama all the way, particularly the tunnel-like side scoops feeding air to the big V10 front is too 911 inspired but, from every other angle, it blazes its own trail – particularly those scalloped, recessed doors that blend into the huge tunnel-like air scoops. The roof looks like a bit of an afterthought, but the targa panel really does work and, besides, anyone spending this sort of money should be able to have the option of open-top motoring without having to mess around with poppers, press studs and a tent-like construction (that will be the Zonda, then). The rear end is what really works for me – the way that the honeycombed engine cowlings meet with the twin roll hoops and the roofline lifts the otherwise flat deck. The bridged spoiler, that rises on carbon-fibre mounts, looks like something from a 1960s F1 car in shape, and the venturis and the simple twin exhausts make other supercar detailing look fussy. But then that’s Porsche for you. Even given the room to roam, the engineers still won’t do bling. It’s just not in their nature. The engine bay is pure sculpture. The damper units sit prominently, operated by machined push rods. A carbon-fibre skeleton spreads across the aperture and the sand-cast plenum chambers carry the Porsche legend proudly. Maybe Porsche should have made the rear deck transparent? Inside it might not be quite so bespoke and quirky as some, but the exposed and heavily-lacquered carbon-fibre sills and floors make a race car statement – and that narrow ski-slope centre console is a styling statement, topped off by one of the Carrera GT’s defining details – that exquisite circular polished wood and aluminium gear knob. I mean c’mon, who wants paddles when you can fondle that? OK, getting close to drive time now. Starting procedure involves nothing more complicated than dipping the clutch and turning a key. The starter motor spins up the superlight flywheel with a race car-like screech, and the V10 bursts into life on a fast, busy idle. It’s a barely tamed In this environment, Porsche almost had to build a supercar, and so the go-ahead was given for a “no-compromise assault “ race car engine, alright. Behind it, the gearbox chatters and chunters its backing track to the aural excitement. I hop into the passenger seat for a briefing, which mainly centres around the clutch. The clutch is what’s been keeping me awake for the last couple of nights. The clutch is tiny, as are most race car clutches. It’s tiny for various reasons, including weight and a lower centre of gravity, which is all very important. Its ultra-small diameter (just 169mm) also allows for an ultra-small, ultra light flywheel, which means instant revs but very little in the way of damping flywheel effect. Porsche was very proud of the whole clutch/flywheel ensemble when the Carrera GT was launched. It trumpeted the twin-plate clutch’s use of exotic materials, it’s high torque capability and a long service life. All this, I reckon, was making a virtue out of a necessity. The engineers were stuck with a race-car gearbox and clutch set-up for the road. I mean, endurance racers don’t even have to make standing starts! The result, then, is a machine that is notoriously tricky to get off the line. Get the revs wrong with that lightweight flywheel and the engine will just die. John has got it well sussed, though, and he’s happily manoeuvring around the showroom on tickover and out on to the road. This is the technique, then. Take the heavy clutch to its biting point, let the car get itself rolling on tickover, and then gently feed in the power. There, simple. Don’t know what I was worried about. Actually, it’s not necessarily difficult, it’s more time consuming. On the public road, waiting for a gap at a roundabout and having to juggle the above with a line of traffic behind you is just an invitation for supercar humiliation. The practicalities of day-to-day mooching around has always been the Achilles’ heel of the supercar, which is why I suspect many tend to get left in the garage. But then you’ve got to get beyond all that and into the zone where they become special. So we grind our way through Malton and out on to the more open roads beyond. Aside from the thorny issue of simply getting it rolling, the Carrera GT isn’t too tricky to drive in terms of basic inputs. There is an engineered feel to the controls that comes from bespoke engineering. The clutch is heavy, but linear, never varying in weight and feel. The gearchange 911 & PORSCHE WORLD 63
Page 1 and 2: NEW CAYMAN DRIVEN: YES IT’S BETTE
Page 3: CARRERA GT DRIVE 911 & PORSCHE WORL
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Page 9 and 10: CARRERA GT DRIVE Top left: A twisti

the two-seater, mid-engined porsche challenge - JZ Machtech

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