1) I place order for a GT3 gen2 at Porsche Reading
2) Car arrives, I’m deliriously happy – so much so, that I want to go for an RS gen2
3) I get an opportunity to take a friends order for a 1st place RS. Dealer in question agrees to the swap.
4) I decide to sell the GT3 in anticipation of the forthcoming RS. Porsche Reading make me an offer and I accept.
5) Porsche ask questions about this ‘RS’ I’ve organised. I say very little. Shortly after, a memo gets sent around to all dealers – “No order transfers are allowed”.
6) I lose my slot on the RS
7) I ask Porsche to sell me back my GT3 – they agree on the Friday. I ask for some short time to arrange finances
8) I call back Monday multiple times and email them to arrange transfer
9) Tuesday I receive email that explains car has been sold to somebody else.

This makes me sick to the teeth. I’m pretty much convinced Porsche Reading have had a hand in ensuring that this RS order got rescinded. Still, having just purchased my 3rd GT3 (only parted £90k with them a month before) I’d have expected a little common courtesty over the weekend by way of “Hi Cem, I’ve got somebody interested, do you definitely want the car back?”. Nothing.

Even now, I am sending emails to them asking for Dealer Principle names and I am being ignored.

Perhaps I should have done what any other budding opportunist would have done by way of making a massive premium on the car when I sold it. I could easily have put a £10k sticker on top.

Ugh…

That’s a saying we laughed about as kids when we were young. It came after a period of relative wealth during my early teens which had us in BMW’s, Jag’s and Merc’s for a few years. Leading out of the recession of the 90’s, I was in a 4 gear Corsa 1.2.

So it was with some frame of reference I was able to refer back to the Equidaen saying from 20 years ago. Having nurtured a GT3 for the past two years to a point where I experienced Zen every time out on the track, venturing out in the Focus RS was…….enlightening.

Forgive me. For many people, the Focus RS represents a real world aspiration wrapped up in a real world car. A sub £30k hot hatch that wraps up violent design, murderous ambition and uncontrolable urge in a socially unacceptable package. It really is a comedy sketch.

The day at Silverstone started wet, which meant the Focus RS really doesn’t know what to do apart from ensure that its driver is shrieking at every minor indescretion. Understeer, oversteer, drifting, torquesteer, bumpsteer, scrub, grind and many other popular latino grooves. You name it, it will throw it at you. Thankfully, it’s still a lot of fun and any of those crazy dance moves are delivered with full notice as you’d expect from any fwd hot hatch.

It feels a little cumbersome with its full 1500kg weight apparent on the high speed bends such as maggots, but otherwise has a delicious turn in that works well until you need to drive out of it. In the dry, you can moderate throttle and adjust steering each time the wheels start spinning to pull you out of a turn but in the wet, it’s just a hopeless balance of throttle and a few prayers.  Otherwise you just witness the revs shoot up and the car drift way off line, sometimes dangerously off the tarmac.

Which brings into question the traction control. Ford have done a fantastic job with this. On the road, I’m often looking at the dashboard for any signs that it is intervening, it’s so subtle. On the track, it’s obvious. With traction control on, it works pretty well accelerating out of the wet bends, but get the car into oversteer or any drift, it’s intrusive and stops you from pulling the car back into line again. With TC off, you can play with some ridiculous angles, but forget about those bends.

As the day dried out, so did grip and all 300BHP can be put to effective use. It’s a really fast hatch, no question. Naturally, it loses its punch after about 110MPH when things start to slow down a bit. On Silverstone, that’s noticed as all the GT3’s start to thunder past, providing me with reasons for not wanting to be in the Focus. The odd tussle with R26.R’s were great fun though, with the Focus RS more than a match for the track focused hatches. The closest to a fight was with a car chipped, giving it more power than the Focus RS.

A comment needs to be made about the brakes though, they were fantastic. They offered great peddle feel, did not fade at all and maintained their consistency throughout. The car behaved wonderfully in fact. But it still left me longing for my GT3 as I came out of it feeling as though I’d taken the car as far as I could – there really was nothing further to learn.

Henry, having seen the look of melancholy in my face, handed me his keys to his GT3 and said “Go knock yourself out”….. I really didn’t need convincing and what followed was 10 laps of pure, undiluted, non-filtered bliss. It was an utter joy and within minutes, I was again exploring the many depths, peeling layer after layer from the GT3, only to find new aspects of its character that had previously as yet been undiscovered. “Do you mind if I showboat a bit, Henry?” preceeded some 60deg drifting, naturally for the crowds, in what is the greatest car ever made (TM).

Driving the GT3 after a whole day with the Focus RS was like finding your children after having lost them in a shopping centre. The Focus RS is a magnificent hot hatch, but the GT3 is a touch of divine glory.

New YouTube version (I think I’m gonna migrate to YouTube all my vids)

Great article in Evo a month or two back where Henry Catchpole wrote:
The ‘So what’s your favourite car, then?’ question is tricky. I get asked it a lot. It’s a staple query from random, well-meaning people at christenings and engagement parties, most of whom like watching Clarkson & Co on Sunday evenings. I used to launch into a small speech about why it’s simply impossible to pick a favourite and how you need a big barn with at least ten parking spaces so that there’s room for a car for every situation. Five minutes later, just as I’d be explaining why an F40 is not really a choice but a necessity, I’d realise that their eyes had glazed over – they didn’t like cars that much and this wasn’t the quick, satisfactory answer they wanted.
Then I drove a GT3. I still maintain the ten-car principle, but now I always say that if I won the lottery I would walk straight out the next day and buy a 911 GT3

Evo Magazine Review of GT3

I concur old boy, I concur.

Regardless, I must go on. This car is MINT guys, you will not find a cleaner example at this price.
so….

In anticipation of my new arrival due end of September, I am now putting up for sale the best car I’ve ever owned.
Most of you know this car, but for those that don’t:

• 997 GT3
• White
• Club Sport spec
• Carbon bucket race seats
• Red belts
• Drivers and passengers harnesses
• Centre console painted in white
• Bi-Xenon lighting system
• Porsche Communication Management (PCM) including navigation module
• Sound Package Plus incl. CD storage box
• Carbon kick plates
• Porsche floor mats
• Wheel centre set
• Windscreen with grey top tint

Brakes
FRONT: PF Discs and pads on front (over 75% life left)
REAR: OE discs and RS29 pads (over 75% life left)
18,500 miles
Remainer of extended Official Porsche Warranty (8 months)

Full Porsche Service History

In addition to this, there’s a suitcase full of receipts, some I’m proud of, some I don’t like looking at! They represent the level of care that has gone into this car.

It’s just had another service at FearnSport, supplementary to service schedule requirements.
The car has also recently had a non-essential gearbox oil change. RMS was done recently under warranty and has been replaced by the now indestructable metal piece. All GT3’s will need this at some point.

It has gone through it’s entire life with vinyl protection (this has been replaced fully once a year). The front skirt is brand new and the front bumper is resprayed (as all OPC cars are).

Wheels do not have a SINGLE mark on them, no kerbed alloys.

This is a car that looks and feels like it has just come out of the showroom and needs not a penny spending on it. Matt at Fearnsport has brough this car to new condition and I daren’t see it in case I drive it again. It’s even got a brand new windscreen dammit!

Price to release car is £65k. No further offers as I have committed considerable spend on the car recently to ensure it’s showroom fresh. It has literally cost me thousands.

Inspections welcome. It’s currently sat at Fearnsport and will remain there until it’s sold.

For some of my more memorable exploits with this car, you can read here:

why-the-997-gt3-is-the-best-car-ive-ever-owned

1000-miles-and-my-honeymoon-period-is-over

200mph-the-world-sideways-and-conquered-fear

monza

We eventually found an awesome spot in the back of the Tesco’s distribution centre. However, the shelf stacker got an opportunity to demonstrate some authority and had us out of there too. Essentially, the whole night was a failure. Even Guy was pulled over by the local police, not for breaking the law but simply because they were curious about ‘whether this was the new GTR?’.

Despite the lack of success throughout the night, as each minute passed I became more enamoured by the sheer presence of Guy’s GTR in the night roads. I had the same feeling watching the car cruise in the midnight light, with it’s rear LED’s, as I felt when I used to watch Knight Rider as a child. There’s this sense of scale and competence that was quite overpowering. I couldn’t help but follow in it’s shadow as it’s rear lights painted red lines across the evening landscape.

Photos were scarce, but here’s one for kicks.

It’s currently getting pampered with some TLC in preparation, but before I surrendered my car to its next owner, I wanted a parting memory that would be fresh for ages. I made this decision very last minute and decided to take a gentle drive to France and back.

Journey started by punching a random location into the Satnav – taking me about 50 miles north of Paris. As always with France, the Autoroutes aren’t much to write home about. Apart from the obligatory launches from each toll-booth (encouraged behaviour by the booth operators), the otherwise monotonous activity of covering ground space across 100’s of miles of concrete road is pretty dull.

After a night in a local hotel, my return journey would be back home, but with some choice options selected on the sat nav – notably ‘avoid motorways’ and ’shortest route’.

What followed was a medley of beautiful roads, stunning weather and idyllic French rural countryside. A combination of A and B type roads, most were furnished with what appeared to be newly laid tarmac. This made it possible to really stretch the legs on the GT3, allowing me to cruise and coast from various speeds between 100 and 150mph (all private roads, bien sur!). As if planned, turned out this day was a French national holiday so the roads were practically deserted. It really was a fantastic, low effort, fast paced drive across beautiful pastures.

I stopped at one point at this fantastic master-bakers in some villiage in the middle of god knows where and had some incredible olive bread for lunch. I added to my car a huge loaf of local, fresh bread for delivery back home, put on my ‘Urgent Bread Delivery’ stance and made fast progress across the remainder of the journey.

As always, I am utterly in awe of the car, with it’s sweet exhaust note punching holes in the otherwise quiet ambience of French countryside, soundwaves bouncing off trees as I pass them creating a gausian blur photoshop landscape. Flashbacks of computer games are momentarily provided as I see similarities between some of the arrow straight roads and their digital representations.

I’m also forever contemplating the freedom we actually enjoy on the roads. Despite cries of opression, there is still a lot we take for granted. Most of Europe is wonderfully unpoliced and free from the technologies of capture and prosecution. I wonder that if we were to look back in 30 years time, how much will we live for the past?

Still, it’s the now that counts and I’m having a hoot enjoying one of life’s most rewarding experiences.

May 22nd 2009

A massive undertaking this car, but the results are pretty neat. As car makers continually strive to maximise profits and cut costs, a recent trend is to cut depth of paint reducing the protective nature of the laquer. Finger nail marks, scratches and swirl marks appear so quickly it dulls the otherwise deep black shine. After the treatment, the results were hugely impressive.

The GT3, resplendent as always, triggered thoughts of sale and closure. With an operation to my shoulder due imminently, there’s going to be very little use for the car in the coming weeks/months. Sale ad up soon :(

This week, Henry realised a life long ambition of mixing it with the big boys by getting rid of his E92 M3 and rolling up in his replacement 997 GT3 in Cobalt Blue, a unique colour for this car. His spec is freakily identical to mine with the only addition the PCCB carbon ceramic discs. Jokes all day about his brake dust free alloy wheels, we scoured the beautiful area of Slough for Mcdonalds drive throughs and trading estates for some photo opportunities.

Nerds amongst you should recognise the building on stilts! It was like a visit to the holy land for me!

I’ve never been a fan of Silverstone, often treating it as nothing other than a large expanse of asphalt too boring for anything other than F1 where cosmic speeds require such wide expanse of runways. However, having destroyed Silverstone this weekend, it is with much regret must I revoke my prior claims of boredom and malcontent as with an increased pace and confidence have I discovered that Silverstone is far more technical than I have ever given it credit for.

I’m using my oversized Corsa Race tyres on the car which have proven to be a revelation in tyre tech, but more importantly have given me the freedom to depend reliably on the tyres enough so I may focus on improving lines and absorbing the very characteristic of my car, which continues to be the utterly benign and predictable beast I’ve come to expect from it.

It’s funny as this week I’ve also had a GT3 specific survey from Porsche. It’s sent to current owners and goes through about 8 pages of very interesting questions – some of which really do prove that Porsche are extremely focused in ensuring this car is very different from the other 911 models. It gladdens me to see Porsche continue to cater for the minority and I hope to god no idiots checked the boxes which suggest owners need more ‘comfort’ or ‘on road civility’. I humbly ask Porsche to ignore any such requests.

So it is with huge respect to Porsche that I continue to gape and gasp at the sheer capability the 997 affords and entertains me. Naturally, the car isn’t a puppy as is often demonstrated – another white 997 GT3 on the same day unfortunately blended in holy matrimony with the tyre wall and, I suspect, cost its owner dearly by way of writing itself off the planet.

But I digress, my car and I are still in love; even after I drive home from an exhausting trackday 100 miles from home, unpack my bags (helmet is permanently left in car) and reverse into the garage, opening said garage the next day to polish out the black rubber marks off the bodywork by turning the key and driving 10 feet out to my drive for a wash, I am filled with a sense of euphoria and complete and utter satisfaction.

I was offered a good price for the car today – a very good price. And I refused it. On what grounds? I hear you ask. Well, there simply wasn’t another GT3 on the market that I wanted to replace it with. Even though Porsche claim ‘Everything has the capacity for improvement’, when asked to list things that disappointed me about the GT3, I was digging for scraps in a barrel and came up with “No iPod connection”. It really is utterly perfect.

When on circuit, in your GT3, when in the ‘zone’, with the alcantara steering wheel working in association with your clammy hands and beads of sweat dripping from your helmet down the side of your temple, the soft chirp-chirp of tyres working at their absolute limit, disputing with the laws of physics as to how lateral grip is working beyond the call of duty, there is absolutely no other place I want to be when chasing that extra percentage.

997GT3 at Silverstone chasing Baff in his RS from Cem Kocu on Vimeo.

GT3 at Silverstone chasing Ken and Pete from Cem Kocu on Vimeo.

GT3 chasing a race 360 at Silverstone from Cem Kocu on Vimeo.

GT3 at Silverstone from Cem Kocu on Vimeo.

As spring rears it’s anticipated head, the beehive of activity surrounding this community of events gains momentum and the contagious energy shared by anyone interested in cars and octane reels in fanatics alike to the many locations across the UK, now amongst the most active trackday scene in the world.

It’s not just glory and fame though, with the pleasure gained from the few hours destroying tyres from increased friction, the eroding pads from over-zealous braking later and later by the minute, and the visible evidence of fuel being burnt at alarming rates – not least those who find misfortune and misery buried deep in the tyre walls of our championed locales. No, these moments of memory can be overshadowed by the vast quantities of funds that can be swallowed whole through the pursuit of these sports.

The GT3 is a remarkable benchmark, offering supercar levels of performance, but with relatively low running costs. Employ a modicum of mechanical sympathy, however, and your car is constantly being looked after by independants and official Porsche centre’s alike. Oil changes, filter changes, gear boxes, brakes, pads, discs, suspension, wheels, tyres, vinyl protection, resprays, ad infinitum.

I won’t disclose the small fortune this week has cost me in preparation for this week’s trackday at Oulton Park, but it’s enough to challenge your on-track sympathy. I can also see the logic of using a smaller, lighter, cheaper car for trackday thrills – something that uses smaller brakes, uses narrower tyres, has running costs so low it’d be cheaper to buy a new engine than to rebuild it.

All those thoughts evaporate after another spirited drive in the car. I am actually quite excited to pick the car up from Fearnsport tomorrow. By all intents, it should feel like a new car with almost all consumables refreshed to new standard. Add to this the fact that Porsche have just charged me £1400.00 for one year warranty renewal, I’m on top of the world (of debt).

A last minute affair, I pretty much confirmed only the day before that I’d attend which should go some way to explain the terrible preparation. I had no idea if my tyres, pads, discs were up for another session on circuit, but considering the weather and reports, it looked like it was going to be a wet, sodden day so there was no huge risk of overcooking the car. Still, mighty disappointed that I left my camcorder at home, would have had some excellent footage otherwise.

Silverstone in the wet is one of the best circuits in the UK for car control and its wide tarmac and wide run offs are perfect for experimentation and seasoned drivers alike. I was in my element with lap after lap of opposite lock tomfoolery. Thankfully, the marshals were relatively tolerant of this behaviour, despite skill levels they are often inclined to black flag anybody who’s off the racing line.

As the day dried out, so did speeds, but having spent the whole day sideways, that didn’t change my driving attitude. Unfortunately, I am not at my fastest at Silverstone. I’m not a big fan of the circuit and I cite it as having bland scenery, repetitive complexes that are unsuited to cars slower than F1 and wide, open tarmac that dulls your sense of speed. Conversely, as a drift circuit, it’s excellently suited.

PDK transmission
Direct fuel injection
Updated PCM with touchscreen sat nav, ipod connection, tv (don’t laugh – this stuff is awesome when you’re doing a 4 hour journey across heavily policed motorways!)
And this awesome colour!

I’ve had my name down on the Porsche dealer network for 2 years now, but in traditional dawg luck, I will be 10th in the queue or some such.

With true loyalty to its number plate, its pompously cheeky rear is in defiance of society’s willingness and obligation to lean proportions. And does this fat lady sing or what? V8 vocals have come of age with German vehicles of late, from the RS4 to the C63, these slick coupés now come with soundtracks that earn them proper GT status.

We’ve both had some fantastic fun on the circuits, especially one occasion at Snetterton when we were both black flagged for pretty much driving the entire circuit sideways. The race controller was amused, thankfully, but asked us to tone things down a bit! Unfortunately, we’re recognised now at Snetterton as the “two white cars”

Despite some minor problems with his 7speed transmission (sometimes when choosing a gear, his computer says no), he’s still able to enjoy its rear drive characteristics aplomb.

I’ve been looking for an E30 BMW (80’s 3 series BMW) for a couple of years now and have just been watching them with that kind of passive interest someone has for something they feel they’d never really get in the real world. However, whilst going through the Piston Heads classifieds, I happened upon this almighty Gem of a car.

This model is the C2 2.7. There were only 159 of these cars made worldwide in all the variants, including convertible and touring models. It basically left the factory as a 325is and is then immediately sent through Alpina to turn it into the C2. It’s bored out to 2.7, gas flowed head, mahle pistons, Alpina camshaft, Alpina ECU, Alpina suspension, Alpina exhaust and the awesome body kit.

Now, the car’s not been looked after so well by the last owner who was, quite frankly, an idiot who didn’t understand the unique nature of this car, choosing instead to treat it like a piece of shit 318i. It’s got a few things wrong with it, like it’s been fitted with cheap shit springs, the exhaust is not original anymore and there are a number of cosmetic points that need attention.

Overall, the bodywork – at least externally, is in great condition and I’m amazed at how many heads it turns – more so than the GT3 sometimes. My aim with this car is to bring it to it’s original glory and invest in some good suspension, brakes, exhaust etc. It has been quoted for a full restoration and subject to timing, I will be going through with this.

I’m really in love with this car, it sounds fantastic and looks superb – I’m quite simply amazed by the attention it gets. I’ve had a ridiculous amount of people stop me in the street and ask me to buy the car. I had one person follow me home in his car and made an offer there and then. Only 3 weeks ago somebody left a note on my windscreen with his full details asking to buy the car.

It’s also what’s called a ‘Tech 1′ which is the chrome bumper versions and pre-facelift. Personally, I think the Tech 1’s look better and this car will always command a premium over standard versions. As an example, a nice 325i will go for about £3-4k. I’m hoping with enough TLC, this will be valued at circa £15k.

The latter photos are from the Total BMW cover shoot it was part of a few years back.

Aside from rain at the ‘ring (that’s a whole different story), I actually look forward to wet conditions as I’ve discovered my strengths have accumulated over the years, especially having done the drift training days at Papenberg. Some circuits are of course more suited to wet conditions than others, but I am found to jump in the car with renewed vigour at the mere hint of changing conditions.

Snetterton is such a circuit where you can approach and loiter at the limits of your car and skill as it affords generous width of circuit and plenty of bends that entertain 90 degree opposite lock activities without endangering yourself nor fellow track users.

As the weather cleared up and dried, so did my overall speed and commitment and the pace that we maintain can only be described as a revelation when compared to my skills only 12 months ago. I know not if this car and I are becoming further ‘at one’, or if my testosterone is increasing by the trackday, but I am surprising myself at just how quick this car is.

Look for the video of this day in the videos section.

Anyway, here’s a video of a chase with the camera in my car and following Glenn who’s a Porsche Cup racer (had to add that in) in his GT3 RS.
Apologies for the stupid camera placement, I’m a recording n00b and I should know better.

Cem’s GT3 + Glenn’s GT3 RS Snetterton Dec 08 from Cem Kocu on Vimeo.

What’s changed? Not much actually. As the credit crunch chews small businesses for snacks, spitting out bones, I try to keep my head low and watch from afar the effects of our decaying economy. People are scared, the city is silent and the phones are dead. It’s an eirie place to be in the city.

Still, the GT3 is ever more the hero with no love lost. If anything, I continue to accumulate my respect as I grow to learn it. I’ve no doubt had plenty time to familiarise myself with this car, nigh on 2 years, yet I still learn something new about it every time I take it out. As a mark of my attachment to it, I actually cancelled my GTR order – shock horror. Multiple reasons for doing this, most notable is my loss of faith in Nissan. I wasn’t even able to get onto a Race Academy day yet as GTR Register forum owner I do nothing but read about the wonderful experiences of others. Aside from that, buying a new car in the midst of a recession isn’t a clever thing to do.

Still, whoever says our actions are dictated by logic is a fucking idiot!

Meanwhile, forgive the layout problems, some major re-writing required, all galleries are dead and do not work.

A friend contacted me by text message “Monza, July”. It was all the words I needed and in my haste, I was the second person to sign up for it. Not only was Monza on the cards, but we were to travel via the Simplon Pass in Switzerland, do Monza, return via the Nurburgring and come back home thoroughly fucked.

Day one was, as first days always are, an exciting, adrenaline fuelled occasion. Date and time set, we all meet at the Euro-tunnel to commence the first part of our journey. 30 Porsche’s, Ferrari’s and Lamborghini’s are always a treat for onlookers as when you’re in such an electric group of cars, everyone’s a showman and revs, blips and throttle nailing becomes obligatory. Once through, we’re on our way through France cruising through the Autoroute at relatively low speeds.

Europe has wizened up to the UK exodus that occurs weekly and it’s no longer a green card zone where speed limits don’t apply and the police are simply tourist attractions. Big fines are common with impounded vehicles and overnight stays in lockups a frighteningly frequent occurrence. After first hand tales of totalitarian law enforcement, we are acutely conscious of our speed. Well, for a while at least.

With so many potent cars on tour, it’s not long before the speeds gently start to ascend and whatever the lead car sets is almost immediately followed by the cars in tow. A short while later, radio’s are going and 5 cars have already been pulled over by the French police. We rein our enthusiasm back in again and make a steady beeline to the Swiss Alps.

It’s near impossible, and often discouraged, to maintain a large group of cars in convoy as we attract an unfeasibly large amount of attention. We are not gumballers or Cannonballers and would actually hate to be associated with the neanderthal, retard activity of racing across the continent. We blame them for the recent rise in harsh policing of European roads, and not without merit. They are dangerous, carefree and boisterous and their lack of any financial sympathy means a speeding fine is simply a road toll. As a result, it’s not long before we splinter into a group of 5 cars.

As the breathtaking vistas of the Alps in the French/Swiss/Italian region begin to draw themselves, the hypnotising landscape soon ensures that despite sat-nav technology being what it is, a closed road means we fast become lost in back roads that sat-nav simply doesn’t recognise. And so begins the most incredible two hour detour I’ve ever experienced. What I can only describe as a 150 mile lap of the Nurburgring, we are tossed from side to side as the hot sticky asphalt melds our tyres to become Siamese in an astonishing balletic dance that has us across the finest mountain pass roads I’ve ever experienced in my life – bar none. Fast sweeping 130mph roads meet with tight, 2nd gear hairpin tracks as we negotiate turn after turn after turn.

At the peak of the summit, we park our cars and look across Lake Geneva with sweaty palms, beating hearts and the focused clarity only adrenaline can provide. If I were to die right now, I’d be happy and only now do I truly recognise the term “motoring nirvana”. That night, in Switzerland, I am often awoken just before drifting off as visions of late braking, understeer and miscalculated turns pull me back from sleep in nightmarish fashion as I desperately try to fight off residue adrenaline. It appears to be a common malady over the next few nights.

Day two and we’re making our way to Milan in Italy, but not before we negotiate the legendary Simplon Pass. Our enthusiasm is apparent in our somewhat optimistic speeds through the beautiful valleys of Switzerland and unbeknownst to us, we’d gone through a Swiss speed trap and as we came to the end of the Autoroute, the Swiss Police force had kindly decided to throw us a welcome party by way of presenting a full force of armed personnel. How utterly delightful!

Conversing in French appeared to soften them and they turned out to be friendly and polite, despite the incredibly expensive fines. As I handed over my Am-ex, they ripped the slip in half and gave me a discount from 400 Euros to 150 Euros. Splendid chaps even posed for a photo! In total, from our group of nine cars, we estimate a windfall of approximately 4000 Euros – not bad for an hour’s work. We even made it on to the Swiss Police website

Following the signs to Simplon, it’s difficult to imagine anything beating my experiences of the day before and my fears are largely realised as despite the odd moment of freedom between bends and overtaking opportunities, there are seldom moments of solitude as the road appears to be filled with slow moving traffic generated by lorries and coaches. Reaching the summit, the sudden drop in temperature is violent and t-shirts are no longer appropriate. It’s a disappointing experience but I imagine it had a very hard act to follow from the day before. In its stead, we enjoy spaghetti bolognese on the peak with a cup of coffee.

As we migrate en mass through to the Italian border, the police and carabiniere do their best to remind us that they have been following our exploits across Europe and have strategically placed mobile speed traps from here to our destination in Milano. Turned out to be a sombre drive across the early part of Italy, but the incredible sights and heavy traffic removed any temptation regardless. There was still a lot of entertainment, or rather, entertaining to do! The traffic found great delight in our convoy and we aimed to please by the repeated show of engine song and bravado. Oh, a word of warning. If you’ve a Gallardo Superleggera in tow, tell him to get to the back of the convoy. Suddenly, GT3’s become decidedly average.

Day three and it’s Monza time, but not without some interesting Milano culture. It’s 7am and I’m making a solitary early morning departure from the hotel to get to the race circuit in good time as my rear pads need changing. As I approach a non-distinct corner in my travels, I notice an attractive woman standing on the side of the road. She’s got the smallest mini-skirt you can imagine, long slim legs and beautiful dark hair that has fallen down one side of her face. As she sees me she holds out her thumb in a polite request for a lift and as I slow down for a closer look, I clench my anus in fear, let out an involuntary yelp and drop a gear as I notice her cheekbones are a little too pronounced for the female variety. What attracts all the trannys to Milano is anyones guess but for the remainder of my time in Milan I reserve my judgement in ‘women’ until I’m absolutely sure.

Monza is the fastest race circuit I’ve ever driven on. It’s a combination of absolute throttle and absolute braking with no in-between. There’s no coasting, no feathering of the throttle and certainly no pussyfooting. It’s a power circuit for sure and the Superleggera shows the rest of the group a fast set of heels with its power advantage, balanced handling and outright competence. The GT3’s are also very well suited to the circuit, but it appears the Lamborghini is playing home terms today. Brakes are eventually destroyed by many people in the group as frequent braking down from 160MPH to 30MPH over and over again takes its toll on anything other than the most effective race prepared braking systems.

With the distinct lack of legislation and regulation in central Europe, there’s a much more primitive and uncontrolled nature to track-days. With no overtaking rules and only a polite request to not bump into anybody, it’s not long before it becomes race-like in its concept. Often we’re three abreast leading into bends in a race to outbreak each other and there are many instances of contact between cars – something I’ve not experienced before. Regardless, it makes it exciting and the fast paced race environment becomes competitive and risky, adding to the unique experience of Monza.

As always, I take my car away from the circuit early to avoid mishap. The car is not without injury though as a huge rock is thrown from the tyres of a GT2 in front and catapults itself directly into my windscreen, creating a 5 inch thick bullet-hole. I’m optimistic about it anyway as I needed a new screen having suffered many stone chips.

A sauna, jacuzzi and swim is followed closely by a fantastic meal at the Bulgari restaurant hotel in Milan. It’s an ostentatious affair that has all the glamour and glitz you’d expect from one of the finest diners in the heart of the fashion capital of the world. As we try to distinguish escort from wife, the evening is made complete as I drive Harry’s Gallardo back from Bulgari to our hotel. Driving through the heart of Milan in an Italian bred supercar is an experience I will savour for the rest of my life. As legends have it, I am greeted, cheered and championed as I ensure all ten vertically opposed cylinders are heard by the entire populace of Milan as I send glorious 5ltr notes ricocheting across tight, narrow cobble lined roads like a sound byte trapped in a pinball machine. Each corner has its voluntary marshal gesticulating the famous “wind-it-up” request only happily reciprocated by my right foot punching a hole through the footwell. Disappointment follows as we approach our hotel where my decidedly average white GT3 sits sulking in unloved fashion.

Day four and I’m travelling home. Harry and I leave the rest of the party to their devices as they plan and scheme the next leg of their journey to the Ring and then to Spa. For me, I’ve done both those tracks to death and frankly, I’m shattered. I drive the entire journey home to the UK in one sitting, covering 850 miles in just under 12 hours non-stop. I manage 3 fuel stops and a baguette in the car whilst driving at an average of 120MPH the whole journey, where appropriate.

I’m at home and the car is in need of TLC. I’ve booked it into the car clinic, it’s getting a makeover by my detailer and will soon sport a new windscreen. This is the epic journey of 2008 and I will take this to my grave.

Next stop, Imola?

Enjoy the pics, not many of track action – too busy driving it

Most were from in car, so apologies for boredom factor for some, but the scenery should say it all!!

Still, here you’ll find Glenn in his 997 GT3RS (host car with camera) chasing me in my white 997 GT3. It’s a pretty good video and shows the differences between the two cars (read: none!)

I can easily become totally absorbed with something I enjoy, to the point of allowing it to consume me. Such is the situation now.

I’ve just returned again from another hopeless trip and for the first time I wished I was in a different car. You can easily get addicted to the Nurburgring. I’ve been 6-7 times this year as it truly is the greatest circuit ever. But it demands commitment of the kind I am simply unable to provide. You cannot learn this circuit in anything less than ten visits. They say it takes 50 laps to start to learn the ring and another 50 to learn the lines. That’s over 2000km of track time. Ouch.

After having returned from the Ring yesterday, the third consecutive failure, I’m beginning to think about my purpose there. It absolutely pissed it down all day and some places had zero visibility. This was also supposed to be a Ring training day with the Scuderia 7 training organisation. After 4 laps of ducks and drapes, it took 3 moments of abject terror in the car for me to accept a warning when I’m given one from him upstairs. That’s it folks, I’m going home.

Even getting home was without doubt one of the most traumatising events I’ve ever experienced in a car. I’ve often waxed lyrical about the wonders of European roads and their total lack of UK traffic (although the amount of roadworks in Germany lately is worrying), but if you’ve ever driven in torrential rain in Europe, you’ll know what I mean. Almost all autobahn’s are made of concrete, which is possibly down to the fact that tarmac melts at high European temperatures. But the problem with concrete is it doesn’t absorb any water and it simply doesn’t know what to do with it, it just sits as a huge 200 mile long puddle. Add to this a Porsche GT3 with Michelin Cups and you’re basically as responsible as a suicide bomber. As you can see from these treads, it was largely impossible to not act like I was having an epileptic fit at the wheel everytime I encountered standing water. I suspect I did the entire return journey sideways. Must be a world record there?

My entire journey home was drenched in contemplation as I was overtaken, ironically, by £1000 cars with less than 90BHP. I simply could not keep up and considered what a joy it would have been to have done the journey in my 2.0TDi Golf, which in real world terms, is A Better Car.

And another thing! If I see another bratwurst or a schnitzel, I’m going to staple my eyeballs through broken glass. There literally is no such thing as German cuisine and, in stereotypical fashion, food appears to be nothing other than a source of energy. A means to an end.

I arrived back at home utterly drained. So much concentration was absorbed in trying to get home at 50MPH, I suffered a neurological meltdown and collapsed at home exhausted. Waste of a 1000 miles. Waste of a £1000.00. Waste of 2 days. I’m all ‘Ringed out now and looking at the web-cam, it looks utterly deadly even now. Credit to the instructors who persevered at the event. For me it was a futile exercise as I cannot learn anything on the ring when the foremost thought in my mind is to not die. By the time I left the Ring at 10.30am, there had already been 3significant car casualties.

I’m bitter. Whilst UK weather was scorching for the first time in god knows how long, I spent it like a loser on my own in a strange German B&B peering out of the window as it was pounded on by horizontal rain drops wondering what the Jesus tap dancing Christ I’m doing here.

Don’t finish the box of chocolates in one go folks.

THE GT3 IS STILL THE BEST CAR I’VE EVER OWNED.

Blah, blah – stuck record, etc. I know, you’ve heard it before and some people are a little tired of my incessant ramblings, but I cannot help myself, this truly is one of the all time greats.

So what have I been up to? Well, I’ve engaged in a few Nurburgring tours. It’s not been totally stress free. Of the past four trips since January, two have been from the safety of the car park.
Back in May some may know we did a ‘Ring and Spa weekend, both of which were total washouts. I came back home with nothing other than the mileage to show.
We returned back in June again but were faced with exactly the same situation. Sheepishly, we returned back to the UK and started to prepare for the RMA trip in July.

I can happily report that the weather was certainly in our favour with the majority of the weekend captured by wonderful sunshine and clear blue skies.

It’s now nearly 8 months since I bought the car, am I still in the honeymoon period? Absolutely. I’m still overawed by this car as much as I was back in January when I first picked it up. The car has an incredibly steep learning curve, with handling characteristics not apparent until such point where you extend your levels of experimentation. It’s incredibly benign for one. Handling is accentuated by simple feedback characteristics. Grip is simply monumental (I am on 9,000 miles now and through to my 3rd set of tyres) and traction unbreakable in the absence of violent input. Even on wet circuits, full throttle 2nd gear 45deg bends fail to perturb the rear of the car. How?? I don’t know, it’s unbelievable at times. When it does break away, communication is positive and clear with perfect drifts an arm lock away. Don’t underestimate the placement of the engine though. It’s still a very powerful rear wheel drive car and any carelessness can be rewarded by swift retribution.

Nearly 10k miles, I’ve not noticed anything out of place. The car feels tight, cleanly calibrated and accessible as ever. I’ve since had a number of changes to the car. TheAlcon discs from JZ Machtech have proven to be very effective, but do allow a little trepidation from user by way of considerable groaning under tight braking. It’s not unlike the sound you hear from badly warped discs, but naturally without the judder. I understand this is an effect of the RS29 pads and the C-section holes on the discs. They certainly appear to last well though, contrary to the standardOEM Porsche steel discs which gave incredible performance and feedback at the cost of longevity. Overall, I expect this to be a more economical route.

I’ve also had the suspension geometry adjusted with 3deg camber. The effect of this is better traction and grip on circuit with better consistency in tyre wear. I should see my tyres last at least 100% more. At over £1000.00 a set, this is a welcome adjustment (a friend in his 997 GT3RS has the same amount of miles, but is now on his 6th set!). The change to the geometry has meant an increase in tramliming, but this is a small compromise. Driving over any standing water is as horrific as ever though with any venture in heavy rain met with contempt from the tyres – they simply do not know how to disperse the water.

It’s still a very special car though. With 200MPH performance on tap at a squeeze of the throttle, the immediately accessible power is never anything other than facesplittingly hilarious. Sport mode on, windows down and a rummage through any of the six gears, hit 3000RPM and the exhaust baffles open up to make noises that simply do not deserve to be in a 911. It’s quick too – REALLY quick. I’m not ever found wanting for power as the band is so wide, there’s always an available sweet spot, whatever the gear. In fact, starting from low revs in any gear and nailing it to 8400rpm takes just enough time for you to relish the crescendo perform, ending right at the point when you start over again. You just stop accelerating when you run out of space/points – delete where applicable.

I’ve not had a more effective cleaver for motorway traffic either. On the autobahn, consistent high speeds are almost encouraged by the stark invitations made by cars pulling out of fast lanes. The comical hesitations apparent by cars that indicate to overtake ahead, notice a white shooting star and desperately attempt a humble change of opinion as they scatter back into their slow moving lanes, doomed to slipstream caravans andHGV’s – always a hoot to watch.

My spec has been well thought out with the carbon bucket seats an invaluable addition to this car. With incredible lateral support ontrack-days and figure hugging proportions making long transcontinental trips a breeze, I’m yet to complain about any posture problems. Sat-nav indispensable with accurate,European roads. I’ve often been taken all the way from my front door to the car park of our hotel in Germany. Fast to re-route, good dynamicpathing (avoids traffic) and crystal clear interface. White with black wheels is also so dreamy!

It’s 100% a ten out of ten car. I want to marry it. I’ve got ring training next week and I am very much looking forward to this. After that, I’ll hang my ring hat for the year. The car will then be pampered until the end of the year.

I’ve been told, disappointingly, that my order for a new GT3 will no longer be honoured as production has been cut drastically short. However, I DO have my name down for the 997 Mk2. This is of course unofficial, butinternet rumours about, there appears to be a bored out version of this 3.6 unit, taking it up to 3.8 ltrs. Don’t know for sure, but we can expect at least 30-50 bhp gains here together with the obvious chassis tweaks that make these cars so interstellar.

Going to tattoo 997GT3 on my ass I think.

After an excruciating drive across Europe to Germany, it was obvious the rain wasn’t about to stop. It seems the beautiful UK weather decided to drag it’s ass eastbound and follow us cross-country. A 70MPH journey is not an ideal way of staying awake during a 5 hour drive, but a prod of the accelerator had me praying to all seven gods in unison whilst my sternum was doing it’s best to ensure my heart wasn’t about to burrow it’s way out of my chest. Lethal conditions aside, the constant threat of Beligian police is another recent discomfort, not least considering my recent apprehension by said forces.

So it was with much dismay that I arrived at the Nurburgring to be confronted with a horrid, wet, incessant downpour which would at times arrive at a hortizontal trajectory. Cars and bikes creating red flags and the non stop use of the trackside emergency vehicle did nothing other than warn me about the dangers of venturing onto the Worlds Most Dangerous Circuit (TM) in a 90k car with slicks. Back to the hotel it was for much deliberation about our plan B. Unfortunately, it was a bank holiday. In Germany. For anyone that knows the place, Sundays are like town when the Lollipop Man arrives in chitty chitty bang bang, it’s simply vaccant. The remainder of the day was left in silent contemplation and general wishes that the proceeding day would grant us limited sunshine to enjoy the pre-booked day at Spa.

Of course, that would be asking for too much.

It was like somebody had moved Niagra Falls conveniently onto Eau Rouge without ensuring sufficient overflow plumbing was in place. Alas, I’d forgotten my life jacket at home so the day was left to those who were brave, stupid or had walked out of a lobotomy half finished.

A miserable drive back as the moment we left Spa early that morning, the sun broke and I enjoyed the use of my sunglasses the whole journey home.

I daren’t return as it was obvious, Europe did not want me this ill-fated weekend. I took consolation in the fact that I didn’t need replacement tyres/brakes/insurance/car (del. as applicable) and was able to reverse into my garage with barely dulled anticipation of the event that never was.

I await my next journey end of June. By god it better not rain.

The GT3 steel brakes are amongst the best in the business – but they haven’t lasted, so on go the Alcon discs and uprated Pagid RS29 pads. Initial feel is great on the road, impressive bite and good feel. Look forward to seeing how it works on track.

I’ve also had the track set up from JZ Machtech so now I have better surface area contact on tyre tread – this should give me better turn in and grip on the circuit and also provide me with much better wear rates on the prohibitively expensive tyres. On road impressions are good again, with crisper turn in and confidence inspiring traction on lean in bends. Although there has been a noticable increase in tramlining, I guess the 3deg adgustment now has the tyres hunting out changes to road surface.

Aside from the service it’s had with engine and gearbox oil changes, I’ve also resprayed the wheels black. They look awesome and are even better in the flesh. I’ve opted out of the black gloss that comes with the RS’s and instead gone for a mat finish which appears to have worked fantastic on the white car. Very happy with this decision and the Alcon discs look huge behind the wheels.

Looking forward to the Ring at the end of this month!

Nathan from Cambridge Autogleam came down and gave the car a fantastic once over. Results are obvious as you can see with some of the before / after shots. Some may wonder how much of the cleanliness is down to the photos, but I assure you the reality is the car appears as new. Oh and it smells awesome.

From time to time, a select group of individuals are invited to take part on a drift day on this course. When Henry invited me to this event, it was obvious there could be no yes/no answer to the invite. It was simply a calling and despite any reservations, your presence was required.

It was also decided that as we were in Germany, it was clearly necessary to make the obvious pilgrimage to the Nurburgring on the public Monday too. Plans afoot, a trip of epic proportions had been thus organised. The story would be told to children when greens were left uneaten.

So started this incredible weekend.

With 3 track days under the GT3 belt, the thoughts of tyres began to surface my pessimistic mind. I do not dally on the German autobahn, so the thought of worn tyres working close to the double tonne was a concern. Add to that the combination of a drift day and a ‘ring day, the initial dilemma soon became the bleeding obvious. Thanks to Steve at Simply Tyres and the considerable weight saving plan of my wallet (£1000.00 for a complete set of Michelin Pilot Cups), a new set of rubber was fitted right in front of my home the night before departure.

All that was left was a sufficient stock of the usual checklist (Redbull, water and Tic-Tacs) and an alarm clock at 5.30am. Kept awake by waves of anticipation and excitement (and the caffeine from 3 cans of back to back Coke), it took until 2.00am before I was able to dream of synchronised, balletic Scandinavian flicks.

Day 1

7.00am and I’m part of a 4 car GT3 convoy heading down towards the Euro Tunnel. Glenn in his orange 997GT3RS, Pete in his black 997GT3RS, Ken in his 996GT3RS and me in my white 997GT3. It’s always a pleasure to be part of such magnificent convoys. There is always a titanic sense of occasion and constant photography and almost paparazzi style attention from other road users can often be hilariously flattering.

Once over the border together with our latest convoy addition, Henry in his M3 CSL, we make our way across to Papenburg, the location of the test facility which will eventually host our drift event. We decide to go via Duisburg, as this route will eventually provide us with a 100 mile stretch of de-restricted autobahn. It proves to be a good choice. However, it’s not long before we approach Belgium when we are targeted by traffic police. As soon as I see the collection of police motorbikes on the central reservation, I haul in the brakes and everyone behind me follows suit. But I know it’s futile, the moment you see police, it’s normally too late. Eventually, the biker pulls up beside me and signals me to follow him and to pull over. The rest of the convoy continue whilst I take one for the team. It’s not a huge fine, 135 Euros for doing 157kph (120 speed limit), but it does demonstrate that the Belgian police are serious about maintaining and policing their speed limits.

I pull away and head for the next service station on our route, a meeting point as always after any incident. I am greeted with inquisitive faces and everyone has a 20 Euro note attached to their hands. It’s good to know you’re in a convoy where each individual is concerned about the welfare of the others, so I reluctantly accept the generous offer.

Leading the convoy (I have factory sat-nav – where are the whingers now!?), it’s not long before I notice the approach to the long de-restricted stretch of autobahn, so I pull into the petrol station for the third time that day. A quick fill up later and already we’re cruising at 150MPH. My comatose brain rudely awakened, I’m grateful for the sudden rush of adrenaline and fresh blood to my core neurone functions. Maintaining fastidiously the 75MPH speed limit for 2 hours was mind-numbingly dull.

Of course, 150MPH is nowhere near satisfying enough in a group of Porsche’s with double tonne quoted top speed figures. We’re soon heavy on our throttles accelerating hard and fast and before long, we’re sat at 175MPH. Henry is pretty much on the limit in his CSL, but I’m interested to see how much faster my car is on the autobahn than my previous generation 996GT3RS. In that car, I saw 200MPH on the speedo exactly, but it was quite terrifying as the car was very light and quick to move based on road camber and steering input and could change lanes at the blink of an eye.

With Glenn in his bright orange RS filling my mirrors, we both find a gap in the traffic and simultaneously reach for the top end. It doesn’t take long before I see 190MPH, the remaining incremental digits appearing in sure, patient fashion. When I hit 200MPH, I’m amazed at the composure of the car which reflects its older sibling as a relatively poorly dynamic car at high speed. This car feels stable, sure footed and only some scary cross wind moments force me to slow down at 203MPH. I’ve broken my personal record and I’m slowing down. Slowing down, of course, an absurd statement as I look down and see I’m travelling at ‘only’ 150MPH. I guess I better really slow down to let the others catch up!

As Glenn comes to my side, we slow down further and gesticulate our vmax’s. He tells me he’s just hit 200MPH. Deep down, I know I’ve got more in the car. It may be the odd 2-3 MPH, but I’m determined to see it and bury my curiosity once and for all. Naturally, I come across the next bend and I see a stretch of road further than my eye can see. I downshift to fourth gear and bury the throttle. Fifth, then sixth gear, 190 approaches very quickly and I count the digits as they rise slowly. 195, 200, 201, 202, 203….

At this point, I detached myself from reality. Any contemplation regarding your current activity can do nothing other than hamper the immense amount of concentration I am dedicating to this pursuit. It’s ridiculously reckless on my own part, futile in reason and utterly pointless. So why do I do it? Well, why does one climb the mountain? Why do we skydive?
Quite simply, to push our own boundaries in thrill seeking can be a very human motivation. 200MPH in a car is the most mesmerising joyous activity I can think of, bar the obvious other one.

I can see the autobahn bending a little ahead. What appears as a straight road at 100MPH can be quite different at twice that speed. I decide to press on regardless in my quest to travel through space and time. I see in my mirror nobody close by, but cars are still being overtaken at over 200MPH – it must be a surreal sight for the other road users, but I ensure my main beams are always on so as to provide sufficient warning for my strafing run. But my time has come to an end, the road is getting busier and I decide to lift off. I quickly glance at my speedo to check my final figure. 207MPH. I start to smile to my self and let out a violent yelp – I’ve forgotten to breathe for too long. Thank Porsche also for the provision of an alcantara coated steering wheel – my hands are clammy and my heart is racing. As Glenn pulls up next to me, I mime “TWO OH SEVEN” out my side window. His eyebrows are raised in disbelief, but I’m happy knowing the GT3 is faster than the RS on the autobahn. Mostly do to with the narrow body aerodynamic and also the simpler spoiler which doesn’t provide huge downforce at the expense of top end speed.

A short while later and we’re at the petrol station, again. Incredibly, it’s taken us exactly 45 minutes to deplete a whole tank of fuel. I’m not even going to begin to work out our fuel consumption, it’s a given that we’ve raped not only the German roads, but also their ecology too.

We decide to cruise to our destination at a sensible 150MPH all the way. Strangely enough, despite my earlier “Make it so” speeds, this still feels incredibly fast so as a result, it’s still a fantastic trip of the journey. It’s 7pm by the time we arrive at our hotel and my sat-nav has brought us right to the front door. As the end of the first night approaches, we’re sat at our meal exchanging stories of crazy moments and vapourised bugs.

Day 2

The security personel at the top secret test facility at Papenburg firstly confiscates any equipment that can serve a photographic purpose and then ask us to sign a plethora of documents. We witness with our own eyes many test mules and development cars, but these are to be committed to memory only and no pictures are allowed. Which is a HUGE shame considering the sideways nature of this drift event. If ever I needed evidence of being a hero, this was it. The event consists of about 20-30 cars altogether and a vast majority of them are E30 BMW’s. Bangers basically. As we ponder the potential reaction of these people as we turn up to McDonald’s wearing a dinner suit, the feeling of being overdressed is soon evaporated as the incredibly friendly nature of the regulars rubs off on us. Consisting of mainly Dutch drivers (for some strange reason, they are amongst the best drifters in the world), everyone is keen to help and take you out for a few laps for familiarisation.

We even have with us Andre who is a semi-pro racer but also a champion drifter. A few laps in his BMW 130i just has me laughing like an idiot, raising imaginary 10 cards. With his display of exemplary car control, I was saddened by the notion that I’d never be able to drive in such fashion. His ability to connect Scandinavian flick to lift off oversteer and the following switchbacks meant I was watching the rear of the car through the side windows. I was blown away.

As I went out in my GT3, Andre explained the braking points and the sections at which I was to force my car to lose traction and encourage full four wheel drifts. A difficult task at first as the very nature of a drift is to lose control of your car. Psychologically, this isn’t easy in a £90k car. It took many minor spins and a few major ones before my inhibitions evaporated and before long, I was throwing the car in to fast, 60 MPH apexes with full throttle powerslides and relishing the fan-base cheering from the side of the pit lane.

As the day progressed, so did my bravery. The tractor and its water tanker dampened the corners every 30 minutes or so, so the tyres were kept relatively cool and in good order. It’s a surprisingly low stress event for a car. Unfortunately, only Henry in his CSL gelled with the concept of drifting and a couple of spins for the others did nothing other than dampen their bravery further. It’s a hard barrier to cross, but it does require a few failed spins to really understand and learn the true limits of your car and your subsequent reaction. The rest of the team went a day early to the ring to catch some evening sessions, leaving just Henry and I to play Makinen.

Towards the end of the day, I was itching to see what a true pro drifter would do with my car. As I asked Andre if he wanted to borrow my keys, his face lit up like a Christmas tree. I sat in the passenger seat and gave him the pre-flight.

Andre: “What’s this?”
Me: “That’s the dampers setting.
Andre: “We’ll have that on hard – what’s this?”
Me: “That’s sport mode – opens the exhaust valves fully, releases more power and allows slip from the traction control.”
Andre: “We want sport mode then, finally what’s this?”
Me: “That’s traction cont….
Andre: “OFF!”

Now, drifting a GT3, a rear engined, rear wheel drive car with 12J x 19 with 305/30 ZR 19 tyres on the rear is a task in itself. First, it grips like a newborn and has traction that has been known to cause rips in the fabric of space time continuum. But when the rears let go, you need to be on the ball as there is a pronounced pendulum effect that throws the rear right the way around. Once caught, it’s relatively benign and holding a drift can be quite straightforward. For the initiated.

Andre took a whole half a lap to familiarise himself with the car before he was sideways on every single bend. With accurate and precise use of the throttle, the car was balanced in a beautifully poetic dance as he linked one bend to the next. Not only was he sideways everywhere, he was also devouring everyone else on the track. After 5 laps of amazing skill, he pulled into the pits, jumped out and claimed that his car was now on the market and he wanted a GT3. My trust in him was rewarded with a display of awesome competence – if ever he’s around, make sure you validate this opportunity!

Day 3

Henry and I travelled up to the Ring to meet the rest of our group that same evening. Unfortunately, my frequent visits to the gravel trap meant my car befriended a number of unseen stones in it’s hidden folds. It was only when the car was hitting warp speed on the autobahn again that they decided to part company from my car. Normally, this isn’t a problem, but when you’re being closely followed by a friend in his car, the destruction of his windscreen is inevitable. 175MPH stones took 3 size-able chunks out of his window. In addition to this, there were a number of peppered dents put into his front end. Henry was nonchalant about the affair and no amount of arguing would change his mind over the refusal to accept my contribution to repair. Sterling chap.

The next morning saw the five of us at the ‘ring car park. I was immediately teleported back to the first time I drove on the ‘ring, almost 5 years ago in my GTR V-Spec Nur. I recall enjoying a relatively well paced lap in this state of the art car that had just cost me in excess of £60,000, when a stealth black, Mk1 GT3 totally and utterly annihilated me by overtaking me on the outside of a bend whilst leaving me two thick, black marks across the circuit. Not only had I been dismissed so unconditionally, but the perpetrator also saw fit to leave me with his autograph, as though proud to showcase his incriminating evidence in what was, essentially, a brutal murder. I loped back to the ring car park that ill fated weekend and made an instant decision. I must buy a GT3.

So here I am in my third GT3 – a car which could comfortably claim to have been built specifically for this exact purpose. Parked up under the cafe, the car was battle-scarred beyond comprehension. Having survived a drift day, a drive across 3 countries and a 200+MPH jaunt across the autobahn, it looked like it needed a weekend trip at a luxury spa and golf hotel for some pampering. With a layer of dirt thick enough to change its colour and the nose cone home to an insect holocaust, there were no aspirations to grandeur today.
With Glenn and Pete’s gleaming RS next to my car, I may as well have been a Mondeo parked up beside them, such is the effect of it’s wounds from the three days before.

Eight tickets purchased, but I first want a lap with Henry in his CSL. I’m gagging to see Henry drive out here. He’s really set himself up for a fall as all weekend he’s been giving everybody advice with tips and tricks for the ring. He tells me I don’t need a helmet as we’re out only for a casual lap, windows open, have a chat on the way etc. I’m about to start stirring the Nescafe when we he sticks his ticket into the toll booth, qualifying a lap. What happens during the next eight and a half minutes was a revelation. Aside from eating my pessimistic hat, I was a front row witness to a spectacle of speed, knowledge and prowess. Every four miles, Henry would turn to me and ask “Are you alright?” as I would allow a rush of blood to escape out of my arteries back into my skin cells to allow the colour to form back into my cheeks. The surreal thing is, every single bend, curve, straight and narrow was described to me in minute detail, whilst at the same time my palms would get clammier and my yelps would get ever more silent. Upon returning to the car park, Henry asked if I wanted another lap out. Bears, Adenau forest etc?

The rest of my day was in the shadow of those first two laps with Henry. That’s not to sound too pessimistic. A ‘ring instructor once told me if you come to the ‘ring knowing everything, you will learn nothing. I emptied my brain, passenger seat and bladder of its contents and proceeded to enjoy seven laps of the best place on earth. There simply was no other place I’d rather have been. I am someone who relishes solitude. This is very relevant on a track day, but on the ‘ring it’s amplified ten-fold due to its immense size. Aside from the octane overdosing, it’s surrounded by beautiful forest backdrop and if you squint, you can imagine yourself on one of the colourful Gran Turismo 4 imaginary circuits. It’s like a walk in the forest. At 150mph.

The GT3 is in its element. It’s fast, competent and remarkably usable on a circuit that has a death toll in the 100’s. Its outright speed is stupendous and the ‘ring is all about carrying speed through the bends and using brakes as little as possible. In this context, I know of no other car out of the box that can compete at this level. Everything on this car is 100% factory standard and the fact that Porsche developed this car here shows. My courage develops as the laps tick over and as the day progresses, the circuit starts to empty as tourists begin their long journeys home. I’m not timing, but estimates from other cars that did time suggest a lap time of around very late 8 Min’s, leading up to 9 Min’s dead. This, for me, is deliriously quick. I’m still a minute behind Henry, but I’ll never attempt to achieve those kinds of figures, lest I decide to return home in a coffin. Impressively, Glenn in his RS is also stupendously fast and makes quick work of me as he appears in my mirror then disappears into the horizon shortly after.

As always on a track day, I leave my last lap on my ticket unused and I decide to return home on a massive high. I have been intoxicated, rejuvenated, liberated….I am already thinking about my next booked event here back in July. It’s too far away and when I get back to the UK, I eventually put my name up for an event in May. But for the now, my drive back to the UK is a serene, hypnotic affair. We chase the sun for what appears to be the best part of four hours. When we reach Calais, my eyes are fatigued from the squinting and my body feels weary from 2500 miles of serious driving. My bladder is large enough to levitate the next Virgin Atlantic crossing attempt but I still manage to grab a cafe noir before we are ushered onto the train. I’m certain Noah had more time to gather his animals. The analogy is amusing as I arrive in London with my own hot branding on the rear of my GT3 in the shape of the Nordschleife circuit.

The UK motorways bring with it a nauseous, overcrowded depression and my thoughts are singular in ‘just-getting-home’ as I navigate from one extended roadworks sign to another. I have another three hour journey but I make good time by listening to classic FM on my upgraded sound system whilst depleting my final Red bull – ensuring my last leg is both drama free and efficient.

As I reverse back into my garage and pull my handbrake up for the last time, I turn off the ignition and my ears are buzzing, my eyes are bleary and my body aches from dehydration and abuse.The carbon backed buckets have done a fabulous job of keeping my body in one shape (losing 6 kg has helped this, no doubt!). I feel slightly guilty as the car has had a battering 3 days and truly needs some love and care. I’m curious though, and I start the engine one more time, just to make sure. As always, the revs are blipped by the starter and then it settles to the GT3’s unique baritone flatline.

Good as new.

Bedford was a stark comparison to my first trackday with the 997, which was at Silverstone. Firstly, the beautiful weather assisted in getting the rubber up to optimum temperatures throughout which in turn provided the supernatural levels of grip that I’m still quite unused to. The two long straights at Bedford are connected by a high speed left right that had me attacking it at even greater speed as the laps progressed. The switchback letf right was so sudden, the grip demonstrated through this 80/90MPH section was bewildering.
Additionally, the long straights at Bedford made overtaking an absolute delight. The long straight in particular had me overtaking five or six cars in one sweep manoeuvre, so powerful is the the GT3. I really don’t believe the car is at it’s quoted power of 410BHP – it feels closer to 500 at times.

Bedford is set in rural surroundings, which makes its policing of the noise limits draconian in effect. So it wasn’t long before I was black flagged for breaking the noise limits, yet I wasn’t even in “Sport” mode. I was given one more chance to go out as they employ a “2 strikes and out” rule. So some creative noise manipulation later (didn’t use full throttle during certain moments), I was able to stay out and enjoy the day. As a result, my traction control remained on all day, but this isn’t any ordinary traction control. I was still able to enjoy some lairy power slides, but they can still bite. A comical spin when playing with Guy in his CSL proved that.

As the day progressed, so did my skills – the GT3 has limits beyond my comprehension and to assume to be close to those would be foolish. However, Beford has a range of dynamic (albeit bland) complex curves, hairpins, S-Bends and straights and linking these together became the most fluid of exercises I’ve ever engaged in in a car.

As I always do on a trackday, I left early, content with the knowledge that I’d been able to return home in one piece with another day of pumping adrenaline abating through my body.

I was at first a bit worried with it being an Easy Track day, as there were all sorts of cars present, from 20 year old Astras spewing smoke and oil, to Cavaliers with squealing tyres. But I couldn’t have been more wrong in my assumption as the day turned out to be incredibly well behaved and the cars on the circuit displayed a level of etiquette I hadn’t seen in years.

Looks like I need the clay bar again.

Rewind to 2nd January and I’m at the dealers collecting my car. As a New Year’s present, you can’t top a brand new GT3. I’d had an order down for the car for nigh on three years and my anticipation leading up to collection had been borderline delirium. Since collection, the last three weeks have largely been snapshots of memories from one intense moment to another as I try to compile some order to my recent experiences.

I’m sure we’ve all been spoilt with news of how the 997 GT3 has become a creature comfort tool. Don’t let recent stories of compromise delude you; this is still a very focused car. I’ve gone for the extreme end of the spec with carbon buckets (which are superb and maintain comfort and rigidity in equal measure) and the club sport pack (rear roll cage, harnesses and other trackside toys). Both of these add an air of menace to what appears to be Porsche’s attempt to bring the interior of the 997 into the 21st century. It’s a mighty fine job as my 996GT3RS had an appallingly bland, albeit functional, interior.

The damper button has been utterly useless on UK roads – I’ve booked three track days so I’ll reserve judgement on this until then.

My favourite feature is definitely the loud button that they’ve ingenuously marked as ‘Sport’. It does two things. It relaxes the traction control without turning it off, but most importantly, it opens a valve in the exhaust that turns the car into an operatic sequence of gearshifts. Recent Porsches rarely sound great – they sound menacing and gruff, but vocally they’re devoid of music. I’m happy to say that it has been rightly addressed as this car now displays an addictive array of notes that has you hitting 8200rpm at every opportunity. It’s challenging when you’ve only got 12 points to play with as it is a massive exercise in self-control, but it really does present itself as an excellent excuse to nail the throttle at every opportunity. In fact, I’ve often been told to slow down by people in other cars when I’m comfortably within the speed limit. Two weeks ago, a businessman came running up to my window and cried foul as he adamantly tried to warn me against speeding beside his office again. I had hit an almighty 27MPH.

There appears to be an incredible cohesion about the car, starting from the banshee power plant, right down to the hi-tech tyres that display supernatural levels of grip and traction. With reports already about owners having to replace these tyres after four thousand miles, you can see why. The soft compound Cups make for reassuring driving in all conditions, but a recent drive across torrential rain gave me a moment that terrified and dazzled in equal measure. At about 85MPH I hit some standing water on the M25 and before I knew it, my backside shook so violently, I’d have immediately qualified as a hip-hop groupie. The car soon regained composure and whether that was because of my frantic corrective gestures, or the benign nature of the car is a point of contention. Regardless, the comical disparity and contradiction of Vivaldi through my optional Sound Package Plus system as I screamed Holy Mary Mother of God was as direct a lesson in the limits of the tyres as I can imagine. I’ve since learned to avoid puddles.

The ’sling-shot’ is ever more pronounced in the 997GT3 though, with fast in, faster out being the apex approach of choice. There’s still an incredibly rewarding process of nailing the throttle just on the exit to a bend and witnessing an experience only possible in a rear engine, rear wheel drive car. As a meteor skims orbit, the GT3 is catapulted out of the corner with ferocious vigour.

The engine, too, is a diamond with a breadth of ability that demonstrates a diverse range of talents, from the low down, no quibble pick up, straight up and beyond to the deliciously intoxicating scream at the top end. It takes a while for you to remember that when your natural reaction to shift up presents itself, you’ve actually got another 2000 revs to use. Get into the flow of using the whole range and you’ll learn to enjoy the relentless urge as the car picks up its torrent of revs in a remarkably consistent and obstinate fashion.

The only option I’ve skipped is the carbon ceramic brakes. I’m still unsure as to whether this was a right decision, but with £5k replacement costs, that’s 10 times the cost of steel equivalents and at the end of the day, it just comes down to whether you can afford them or not.

It’s Sunday evening, about 6pm and I decide to take the car out for a drive. I punch in some random town names in the amazing sat-nav, uncheck the ‘motorways’ box and select ’shortest route’ to guarantee some traffic free A and B roads. What followed were six hours of sheer drama. With freezing cold temperatures outside, my windows fully open (sound is amplified from the engine and exhaust) and my heater on maximum attack, the experience is one I have not had in many years. As I rolled back into my garage at 1am, having covered four counties and over a tank and a half of fuel, I felt exhausted as an entire evening of hard-wired adrenaline started to catch up with me. Ears ringing from almost 300 miles of flat six pounding on my lobes, I collapsed onto my bed as thoughts of fluidity, traction and sheer capability drilled into my consciousness kept me awake for many hours. It was surely one of the most electric drives I’d experienced in a long time.

This is not a car for the faint hearted. Focus, concentrate and you are rewarded with driving pleasures that hark back to the time before speed cameras and Livingstone.

As I throw my thoughts into words, it pleases me to find difficulties in establishing negatives. I guess this honeymoon period is set to last!

Cem Kocu – Jan 2007

9am and there was a thick cloud of fog pretty much localised to the Silverstone race circuit. Visibility was bad enough to stop play for about an hour before we began as their general rule of each marshal being able to see the previous was not met. By the time we were on, we were an hour behind schedule and then someone appeared to have spread a generous coat of baby oil across the whole track.

After a number of frightening oversteer moments, I decided to temporarily retire to the pits and witnessed red flag after red flag as cars span from one corner of the track to the other. It really was a case of counting the seconds until the next spin. Unfortunately, the day of one particular individual was brought to a dramatic end as his GT3 became permanently joined in matrimony with the pit-wall.

As always, this is as stark an education as you can ever receive as to the dangers in trackdays and the risks we take. A number of laps later and I was still not confident enough to truly enjoy myself. Even a few laps with a circuit instructor did nothing, if not turn me into a more nervous wreck with his ridiculously frantic method of tutoring.

It was only when Andre came out for a few laps with me that I was able to truly understand the car and it’s role on the circuit. Andre has raced at the Nurburgring 24h race a couple of times and knows enough about racing for me to call him an ‘expert’ on the matter. 20 minutes with this fella showed me a lot about what I was doing that allowed me to start having a lot of fun.

The remainder of the day turned out to be incredible fun and my attack started to become a little more committed. I was still one of the slower cars on the circuit, but I’m humble enough to admit my skill deficit. Still, Silverstone is a wide, high speed circuit and as it became dry, I was able to take explorative lines and different braking zones. The car is quite forgiving and allows you to get away with moments of minor ineptitude, but you still cannot overcome the laws of physics and I suspect if you were to take liberties, you’d be spat off the tongue of Silverstone and into the gutters of the sand traps.

Andre was positive about my methods but he did say I need to rely on my car a little bit more and should look at boosting my confidence.
Meanwhile, other trackday participants are both awful and awesome. GT3RS’s are quick by reputation and their drivers today made no effort to invalidate that assumption by being incredibly quick but also courteous to those who were a little….experimental in their approach. But in equal measure, there was, as there always is on public trackdays, the idiot crowd who cannot make a distinction between public trackday and a raceday.

Oh and boys, leave the nomex suits at home.

Some of these pictures are copyright Tim Dunop and Dunlopix.

In my usual energetic fashion did I tackle the North Circular and, as impossible as it is to drive sans Sport Mode, the car adopted its reputed raison d’etre as “the twitchy bastard”.

Sport mode on, the traction control is relaxed so any squirt of the throttle has you gripping the steering wheel from your finger tips with anticipation in the same way you’d try to pull a magazine from under a sleeping snake. If you’ve seen American Psycho, Patrick Bateman is the Michelin Pilot Cups personified. A dignified gentleman during the day, exuding an air of confidence and class, but when your skull is cleaved in two, you’re kinda still in a little shock from the unexpected gesture.

Every moment of insecurity is channeled right into the base of your spine, every tireslip, every puddle. It’s a sensory orchestra and I’m conducting. There was another moment of fear as a hard second gear push away from the lights sent the rears in a confused, chaotic panic. It was only my yelp of fear that allowed me to maintain false equilibrium to the event. It was like breaking into a light jog after you trip.

With your wipers on full speed, a little bit of creative lane discipline, even the most mundane of journeys become an event.

I ended the night with some late shopping at Tescos. As my flat six tinked and clicked itself to silence, the rain continued to pierce the London smog and I watched as the cashier scanned my raw prawns through the till. It wasn’t until I noticed the jiggling keys in my hand that prompted me to question my possible nervous disposition that I’d mysteriously acquired. Only it wasn’t, I was just itching to get behind the wheel again.

I really hope it comes out well, it’s totally different forcing words out instead of letting them flow when you’ve really got something nice to say. Some of my best posts have been as a result of emotional events that have me typing ’til my fingers bleed.

[EDIT - here's the full article I posted]

Well, it’s been over a thousand miles now and to be honest, I’ve been a little anxious about this milestone. You see, having picked the car up 2nd January this year, the last four weeks can largely be described as my “honeymoon” period. Ownership during this time can have a warped sense of subjectivity about them. You are utterly blind to any negativity, you allow yourself to be flattered by every minor instance with the car and coming up with new excuses to ‘pop out’ slowly becomes an increasingly challenging task. As a result, you become so enamoured by its every ability, you become unable to entertain the notion of a negative thought. Now that my 1000 miles are complete, are the rose tints in my spectacles of a different colour?

As I throw my thoughts into words, I’m still having difficulties establishing negatives. I guess this honeymoon period is set to last!

The photos were taken around the Milton Keynes area and were as a result of my request to take pictures in an underground/multistorey carpark – I’ve always loved photos of cars in typical urban environments. Did I mention the car parks were my idea?

Anyway, some photos are also taken at the Red-Bull F1 workshops. We were amazingly lucky to be invited for a tour by the manager who had noticed our loitering outside.

Car park photos were my idea.
All photos copyright Stephen Hall (www.trackdemon.com)

The 997 GT3 slots into the ‘My God, It’s Full Of Stars’ category. Throw away any pretexts you may wish to dress up your Porsche related complimentaries with, as the XBOX 360’s and the Playstation 3 alongside it, I have witnessed the evolution of the sports car into Next Generation. The 7.1, HD, 1080p supercar is here.

Allow me to explain how this came to be?

Three years ago, just as I put an order down for a 997GT3, I was a proud owner of a 996GT3RS, resplendent in white with red decals. For me, at that moment, it was the pinnacle of the car. No other car on the market was as focused, as functional and as downright obvious as the RS. It simply was a track car, with a tax disc and some of my fondest driving moments that are burned vividly to my mind are as a result of moments spent with the 996RS. 200MPH, defying levels of grip and traction, frequent visits to the dentist – it had almost everything you could want from a car. Almost.

For all its championed merits, it wasn’t so well behaved at worst of times. If it rained, you play Scrabble instead. High speed on the roads would encourage lane changes without prior negotiation and continuously being asked ‘Where I bought the stickers from’ became a little tiring. Finally, a mechanical problem owing to some irresponsible usage from a prior owner meant the car was under the surgeon’s knife for 2 months. Porsche eventually bought the car back from me.

So what does one do after selling a Porsche? That’s right, I went Ferrari. The 550 was the most beautiful car I’ve ever owned, it looked stunning. A leviathan of an engine, the V12 5.5lt power plant was legendary in its capabilities. It was both a gentleman and a hooligan at the same time. Race track or opera, it was at home everywhere. However, soon after, I sold the car. Not quite so much a mistake, as the car was fabulous and gave me insight to what owning a Ferrari was all about. But, I just simply wasn’t ready for Ferrari ownership.

So days became weeks became months became years. I eventually got the phone call from Porsche – my car was ready to pick up.

The night before was a bizarre collage of thoughts and activities. When you are picking up a brand new GT3 the next day, one you’ve been waiting for practically 3 years, boy do the adrenaline glands kick in!

00:00 – Go to bed.
00:30 – Still no sleep.
01:00 – Wash my laundry
01:30 – Have a shower.
02:00 – Shave.
02:30 – Watch a movie
03:00 – Watch another
03:30 – Zzzzz?

07:30 brings a bleary eyed wake up call courtesy of the mobile and the day’s begun.
I’m straight to the dealer, but not without a visit to the bank. With so much red-tape and bureaucracy involved in making large sum cash transactions, it took me all morning to organise transfer of funds before I eventually arrived at the dealership with my car still under silken wraps.

As I sat there, signing away my release forms (I was practically adopting this car), I realised why I was having difficulties writing. ‘My hands are clammy’ I exclaimed to the dealer. He thought it was because I was handing over £85 big ones. ‘No no, it’s just been so long in anticipation of this car, I’m hoping I haven’t over-hyped it for myself’.

Prep-talk all done, I had the keys in my hand and the car was in the showroom exit lane, waiting for me to go. In an instant, all my fears evaporated as I dropped myself (albeit rather unglamorously) into the race carbon bucket seats. I was home and it felt just so right, were it not for the Nivea for Men, my smile would have cracked my face clean in two.

The seats felt perfect. Complaints about these on internet forums aplenty, I was delighted to have no immediate complaints about them. I am not a tall person, perhaps at last I’ve found a benefit to being 5′7″ Regardless, they were snug with a fantastic seating position and just looked fabulous. I ordered the carbon fibre door kick panels and they matched perfectly with the carbon backed seats.

The tacho taking centre stage on the instrument cluster, the intentions of the GT3 are by no means discreet. Red line beginning at 8,200rpm, there is already electricity in my body and I’m excited beyond comprehension. But the entire dealership is watching me, together with a handful of customers. I could turn the key and a slip of the clutch could catapult me through the showroom window, into the Cayenne and Porsche design bike and if I’m lucky I’d take down only the general manager and and and?

Eyes back on the dash again. With the PCM (Porsche Communication Management) taking centre stage in the dash, the ergonomics of the car had been clearly dragged face first through the hedges of the 21st century. With a glance in my rear view mirror, the contradictory glimpses of the roll cages behind and the sat nav up front, one can’t help but laugh at the concept of such a thought, but it really works so very well.

I shall never forget the feeling of driving away from the showroom as I grazed the front lip of the car on the exit kerb. It was a feeling of elation and the notion of having completed a lifelong dream will stay with me forever. I have placed the memory into a scrapbook and look forward to browsing through it in the future.

The layout of the following day still remains largely a blur, aside from the fact I completed 250 miles. GT3’s come bench run-in so you only really have to bed the brakes in, otherwise the engine’s ready to go for gold. And what an engine! A delicious 8200rpm red line gives you massive flexibility to use all 6 gears. You don’t need to use 8200rpm, just in the same way you don’t need a Porsche GT3! But to petrol heads, reason and logic rarely get in the way of a good car.

The breadth and capability of this engine is titanic. Accelerate at any point and it is relentless in the build up of revs and no matter what your brain is telling you, just don’t shift up. Use the eyes for that and you’ll notice you still have another 2000rpm to enjoy. And those last 2000rpm’s are the greatest. The scream is an unholy sound that starts with a tingle and builds to an almighty tenor and with the engine a few inches behind your head, ensure any passenger disclaimers are signed in the usual fashion – no weak hearts, no high blood pressure and absolutely no children. Ladies and gentleman this is a car for adults. This is the magazine the newsagent keeps under his desk. This is the gun Dirty Harry owns. This is the 350k Scoville rated chilli pepper. If ever there was an 18 certificate on a car, no other has been more deserving.

Engine response is immediate and with absolutely zero chassis lag, when you accelerate, the entire car is working together as a team, taut body, rifle bolt transmission and firm, yet compliant suspension. There simply is no weak link in the chain. I gave a working colleague a lift home today and he claimed that his head was approximately 50% longer as a result of his skulls inability to maintain elasticity with the forces at play within the GT3. And I can empathise. My head is firmly planted within the headrest – it’s the safest way to ensure you don’t get whiplash.

You’re all waiting for me to say it handles like it’s on rails just so you can say ‘I hate that phrase’ but goddammit, it handles like it’s on rails! I sometimes forget to turn off from roundabouts as I enter into some infinite rotation around road islands with comic manic laughter that has me peeling passengers from the side windows with a spatula. Sick bags aside, we can take a good look at those Michelin tyres and cynically claim that there’s no way on earth a tyre like that can make its way into legal production. Quite literally, slicks with the odd groove, they provide astonishing grip and traction, even in the wet, as the UK’s typical weather proved this evening. They also showed no evidence of the slippery and unwieldy nature of the 996RS in the wet, which once threw me from the third lane into the first lane of the M1 once as I hit a standing puddle. I had my own standing puddle after that experience. Ultimately, the capabilities of the Pilots are yet to be established after prolonged use, but initial impressions are extremely impressive.

I cannot wait for more seasoned use of this car on roads that are more appropriate. I look forward to the Stelvio Pass. I dream of laps at romantic Spa and I plan and scheme towards an uninvited guest trip to the GT3’s Italian counterparts at Modena and St. Agata. Right now, however, I’m enjoying the moment and the one recurring memory that keeps visiting me is of the sensation of raging from 2nd gear to 3rd gear and the feeling of total cohesion and unity you get from the car as the revs dip from 8200rpm to 5000rpm and build up its relentless, endless urge to its redline again. It’s inspiring stuff, really, and I have nothing but total admiration and respect for those who appear to be the greatest car engineers on the planet at Porsche.

A wild orgy of capabilities that has melded the fabulous engine with the transmission and chassis has provided me with unadulterated driving joy that has been both intoxicating and addictive. And I haven’t even mentioned the ‘loud’ button yet?

Unfortunately, most journalists have totally missed the point with the ‘Sport’ button, claiming that the additional 15lb/ft it releases is pointless and should just be on all the time. This is misrepresentation of a genius device which has allowed Porsche to release a production car to the masses that has a voice akin to a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

You see, in standard mode, the engine and exhaust emit the classic flat 6 sound we’ve all come to love, all the way from Le Mans to Ace Café. It’s a characteristically gruff sound that has become synonymous with the 911 and, well we’re all happy with it. Depress the Sport key and valves in the exhaust open up to turn the exhaust note into something altogether more barbaric. What was a typically flat 6 howl has been turned into an aggressive, monstrous dragon cry that just should not be legal on UK roads. That this scream goes all the way to 8200rpm has had my mother whispering silent prayers all night.

My name is Cem, I’m a sport button addict.

Amazed at how few people have actually stumped up a deposit on the GT3. My dealer has only 5 paid deposits for the car, with someone like Aberdeen having zero. Would have thought at least double digits. I guess the £10k deposit has scared a few people.

Thought the car was great spec, missing only PCN. White car is definately a confirmation for me, but white wheels looked naff. Also, disappointed that the awesome alcantara was replaced by tacky looking carbon. Leather felt a little misplaced also where it had replaced alcantara.

Also interesting to note that the club sport spec roll cage now has a cross diagonal design – 2 bars instead of the one. This should make putting things into back seat a little harder.

During interview, Mr. GT3 (head of project planning for GT3 projects since 1998) said the best spec for GT3 is:

PCN
Carbon Seats (must have)
PCCB (must have)
Club Sport (although without the cage – this I found wierd, what else you get with CS apart from cage??)

I think the cynical man in me spotted that he’d added 2 of the most expensive options from the catalogue – PCCB at £5k and the seats at £3k.

Soon I will see. Porsche are asking me to spec the car – so far I’m thinking white, zenons, PCM, carbon buckets, club sport and sport chrono.