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70 Driving a 911 Cup car
Model 2020 911 GT3 Cup
Year 2020
Engine
Capacity 3,996cc
Compression Unknown
ratio
Maximum power 485hp at 7,500rpm
Maximum torque 480Nm @ 6,250rpm
Transmission 6-speed sequential
pneumatically activated
Suspension
Front McPherson suspension strut,
adjustable for height, camber and
toe; Forged and adjustable top
mounts; Electrohydraulic power
steering with external control
function for easy car manoeuvring
Rear Multi-link rear suspension,
adjustable for height, camber and
toe; Forged top mounts
Wheels & tyres
Front Single-piece centre-lock
alloy wheels conforming
to Porsche specification and
design, 10.5x18-inch, ET 28
Rear Single-piece centre-lock
alloy wheels conforming
to Porsche specification and
design, 12x18-inch, ET 53
Dimensions
Length 4,564mm
Width 1,980mm
Weight 1,200kg (approx.)
Performance
0-62mph Unknown
Top speed 170mph
compromise to shorten the circuit to join the Hanger
Straight. There’s a hell of a ridge as you enter the short
connecting stretch of tarmac, it being harsh enough
that it unsettles the 911 Cup as it runs over it, which is
worrying as there’s a fairly heavy prod of the wonderful
brakes required to take the speed off before joining what
is the fastest part of the circuit.
There’s plenty of space on the exit of the corner,
though without Becketts before it you feel like you’re
always pushing for more speed down Hanger, rather
than running out of it. Even so, a quick glimpse at
the dash shows 250km/h (155mph) on that Cosworth
display before I’m again on the brakes, modulating them
so as not to lock up, careful not to be too digital with
my foot. I have to remember to be patient, not turn in
too early at Stowe, because doing so will see me quickly
run out of space on the exit. Deep in, fast out here, the
911 GT3 Cup turning in with real precision, the steering
so rich in detail and beautifully weighted. The speed the
Cup can carry through the long bend is huge, its mighty
traction meaning that it builds on that carried speed
with devastating effectiveness.
The intimidation is lessening with every lap; after a
couple of tentative ones, I’m feeling far more confident,
though I’m still sectioning areas of the circuit rather
than stringing it all together in one big flowing action.
It’s a steep learning curve, the Cup so immediate, so
faithful in its responses there’s real incentive to explore
what it, and more rightfully I, am capable of. There’s
greater speed to be had everywhere, the elation of
getting one corner right resulting in increased speed
arriving at the next one, that requiring a quick recalibration
of braking points and force, where to turn in,
apex and exit speeds. It’s all beginning to flow, then that
spin happens.
It came seemingly from nowhere, everything fine
before my lack of ability is revealed and the Cup swaps
ends and heads backwards off the track. It takes
seconds, but it might as well be minutes. I’ve no hope
of correcting it, even though I try; the only thing I can
do is keep the brake pedal floored and hope that it’s
enough to keep it from beaching on gravel, or worse,
hitting a wall. Neither are troubled today, but it’s
knocked me down a peg or two, and underlined that
to really get the best from the Cup you need to be a
better driver than I am. After that awful silence, the
increasingly frantic attempts to start it again, and it
eventually doing so, I drive slowly to the pits, prudence
dictating that I have it checked out, and probably get
chucked out, myself.
Woollen’s quick to open the door, asking first if I’m
okay, and what happened. I start to tell him, and he
smiles, having seen it all before. I’m not alone in doing
so, Porsche’s PR man admits having seen one driver
spin three times on three laps, each time wrecking a
set of Michelin tyres in the process. I’m sat up on the
air jacks, the tyres checked, and I hear from the techs
that they’re flat-spotted down to carcass, so they’re
absolutely rooted. Woollen’s team roll out a new set, the
affable manager says I’ve time for eight more laps, and
explains that I might want to build up to them, as the
new tyres will need some heat through them.
Incredulous that I’m still in the driving seat, the Cup
drops onto the fresh Michelins and I’m back out again.
Woollen wasn’t wrong: the new tyres feel like I’m
driving on ice, the first downshift when approaching the
corner enough to have the back step out, though this
time I’m not going so fast that it’s not easily collected. I
gingerly run five laps before I’m confident there’s
enough heat in the rubber to up the pace, and the last
three laps are as fast as I was going prior to my spin, the
temptation to wring the 4.0-litre flat-six to its redline too
much to resist – there’s huge satisfaction seeing those
red lights glowing and flashing on the instruments
when the next gear is needed. Yes, there’s a nagging
doubt that I could get it wrong again, the lack of real
downforce not helping, but the Cup’s just so damned
immersive and exciting that it’s impossible to resist the
urge to push it even harder. To do so in a race, with 20
to 30 other eager, talented racers alongside me (and let’s
be honest here, in front of me) is something I can only
imagine, but to have sampled it gives me a greater
comprehension of the talent required, talent which, I’m
not unwilling to admit, is beyond my skillset. What a
car, though – it’s the very essence of 911, pure, engaging
and, in the wrong hands, a bit tricky. But get it right, and
it’s like nothing else I’ve ever driven.
LIKES
• Pure, fast, engaging,
inexpensive (relatively).
DISLIKES
• Demanding, reveals I’ll never be a racing
driver (at least not a good one).