Porsche 935 – racing's most underrated car?

Starting out with a standard steel bodyshell and floorpan, beefed up with additional bracing in line with the 934, much of the outer metal was substituted by glassfibre: only the roof was still made of steel. The regulations allowed free interpretation of the bodywork and Porsche’s backroom boffins made full use of that. The front end was detachable in two pieces for access to the fuel and oil tanks. At the rear, the intercooler for the fuel-injected and turbocharged 2865cc flat-six was installed within a box-like cowling which supported the rear wing. Beneath all the Tupperware add-ons, the 911 Turbo’s cast rear swing arms picked up on ball-joint mountings, while the front end was suspended by tubular wishbones with rising-rate titanium coil springs all round. Brakes – meaty, drilled and ventilated discs clamped by aluminium four-piston callipers – were lifted from the 917.

Following its triumphant entrance at Mugello, the 935 won again at Vallelunga by which time the rule makers insisted on a few tweaks for the remainder of the ’76 season. They demanded Porsche replace the air-to-air intercooler with a more compact water-cooled version. It made little difference to its outright pace, with only BMW’s 3.5-litre CSL giving any cause for concern before backing out at the end of the year. Given free reign for ’77, the by now twin-turbocharged brute won every round. By the following year, works development resulted in what was essentially a fully spaceframed car which represented the end of significant in-house involvement in the model. As is typical in Porsche lore, it was left to enterprising privateers to maintain the model’s relevance.

Yet before the works dropped out completely, it did usher in two distinct sub-species, the one-off ‘Baby’ being built to win a televised round of the Deutsche Rennsport Meisterschaft (DRM) at the Norising in June ’77. On learning that only the up to 2-litre class was going to be aired, Porsche president Dr Ernst Fuhrmann requested a smaller-capacity car be built in just eight weeks. Ickx retired this curio after being overcome by heat exhaustion. However, the Belgian made amends in the following round at Hockenheim, winning by half a lap.

More extreme still was the loopy 935/78, better known as Moby Dick due to its whale-like proportions. With a roofline lowered by 75mm and extensive spaceframing of the chassis/rollcage along with innumerable aero tweaks, this remarkable device would race only four times. At the Silverstone Six Hours in May 1978, Ickx and Mass won by seven laps. They then retired at Vallelunga and the Norising (a DRM event) before managing only eighth at Le Mans following frequent problems.

No matter, Redman did at least scoop the following year’s Daytona 24 Hours for the equipe (his second win there in a 935). Fitzpatrick, meanwhile, sealed 1980 IMSA honours for Barbour before going it alone to field his own 935s. “The races we won in IMSA in ’83 were particularly satisfying as we were up against the new GTP cars from Lola and March,” he says. “IMSA had banned the 956 which was a political thing. They didn’t want Porsche to keep winning all the races so they brought in a rule about drivers’ feet having to be behind the centreline of the front wheels. Then the 962 arrived in America in ’84 and that was the end of the 935.”

Not quite, the 935 continuing in IMSA into 1986 by which time it was comprehensively outclassed by more modern fare. Closer to home, 935s – or near approximations – have been a staple of club racing from one-make Porsche series to the Intermarque Challenge and more recently the British GT Championship. When the latter was formed in 1993, grids seemed to comprise entirely of 935s. Bringing things full circle, they are now mainstays of stand-alone historic meetings, from Classic Le Mans to Monterey and the wonderful Porsche Reunion events.

In period, the Porsche 935 won more than 100 top-flight races, including 24-hour victories in France and North America. They looked like nothing else on this planet, or any other for that matter, and ran the sonic spectrum from two chainsaws mating to frenzied shriek. Throw in memorable liveries, a roll-call of aces, the odd movie idol (Paul Newman shared the second-place finisher at Le Mans ’79) and you have one of the most remarkable sports-racing cars of all time. Even if it is just a modified road car. Ish.

Mike Wilds: “I raced one”

This likeable veteran made his Le Mans debut in a 935. It didn’t end well…

“I met a Swedish guy called Jan Lundgard at the 1980 Brands Hatch 1000km race. Jan owned a spaceframe 935 with Kremer bodywork and a unique turbocharged, 1.4-litre flat-six engine. I tested the car in Sweden before he offered me a drive at the following year’s Le Mans 24 Hours. I was down to drive alongside him and Axel Plankenhorn. The car handled well but it did have a tendency to understeer. The engine also made it that bit more difficult to drive due to the immense turbo lag. You really needed to left foot brake while your right foot kept the throttle open to help keep up the turbo’s rpm; then you’d be fired out of the corner.

“The car ran well in practice but the engineers were worried about turbo temperatures along the Mulsanne Straight. They insisted we lift off the throttle for two seconds at two points down what was a very quick straight. We duly complied but sadly the car melted a piston at about quarter-distance. The team removed the engine in the pitlane and attempted to replace the offending piston but it was too badly damaged. The crowd gave the mechanics a huge round of applause for their efforts, though. I had the first of my seven drives at Le Mans in 1981. It really was a fantastic event and it became my all-time favourite – and most frustrating – motor race.”