Fire up the S/T and you’re treated to one of the most unmistakable sounds in the world of road cars. It’s the nasal, faintly metallic gargle of Porsche’s atmospheric flat six overlaid with the uneven, snare-drum rasp of a single- mass flywheel. It’s an intensely mechanical sound at mesmerising odds with that sport-luxe cabin.
From then on, nothing that could inhibit the pleasure of driving a manual, naturally aspirated sports car has passed through the development net. The pedal weights are bang on – not insipid, not tiring and nicely consistent with one another. Clutch travel is quite long but the window within which the S/T’s uncomplicated driveline becomes unified is not as microscopically narrow as you might fear. The process of babying this fizzing, sensitive, 518bhp 911 into motion soon becomes every bit as intuitive as with a basic Boxster. The car’s lightness helps you.
Getting the S/T off the mark as fast as humanly possible isn’t quite as easy, mind. In first gear, the ECU will only let you dial up 5000rpm, which isn’t quite enough to overwhelm the rear Michelin Pilot Sport Cup 2 tyres in that way conducive to stunning getaways. We matched Porsche’s claim of 3.7sec to 60mph but felt there was more to come, possibly on rubber that wasn’t so nicely toasted. Perhaps the S/T’s time doesn’t look especially smart in an era when comparably expensive supercars require a second or so less to get the same job done. However, and as should now be quite clear, this 911’s raison d’être is predicated more on subjective matters beyond mere numbers.
And yet, once you have the S/T up and running, boy does it deliver. Hook second gear and the car will catapult itself from 40-60mph in 1.3sec. That is, to the tenth, the same amount of time needed by a Lamborghini Aventador SVJ – a fire-breathing senior supercar if ever there was one. The S/T has superb breadth, too. Its 6.1sec time for the 30-70mph stretch in fourth (aka ‘I need to overtake but can’t be bothered to downshift’) is faster than what either the GT3 or GT3 RS managed, despite both having more closely stacked gears. That said, if on-demand, stomach-emptying performance is what you crave, save yourself £55k and buy a Turbo S.
Changing cogs yourself is an act of deep satisfaction, of course, and now we get to the inimitable character of the S/T. Admittedly, one tester found the gearshift action a touch too short, and not quite in keeping with the car’s overall character, but others adored it. It’s a confident but not overly muscular action that’s dependably on your side. There’s certainly little risk of accidentally requesting first when you meant third and volley-firing valves kerbwards.
This ’box is very slick indeed. For evidence, consider our 0-150mph time. At 18.0sec, the S/T needed a scant 0.3sec more than a PDK-equipped GT3, despite no fewer than three manual shifts having taken place.
And the engine? A masterpiece. In terms of propulsive force, this 4.0 doesn’t hit its extraordinarily vocal stride until 3000rpm, at which point the bassy piston snort starts to harden into intake yowl and light work is made of the chassis. Titanium internals and the single-mass flywheel yield a fierce appetite for revs perhaps unmatched at any level below blue-chip specials such as Gordon Murray’s latest creations. The graphical representation of the power delivery is a perfectly straight line, bolting skywards from idle to 8500rpm. The final 500rpm beyond that point is just for fun.
