Porsche’s winning formula: lightness, reliability and relentless development

The clues to greatness were there to be seen, even in that first car. Professor Ferdinand Porsche’s passion for motorsport rivalled even that of Enzo Ferrari, and when he and his son Ferry created the first Porsche road car, motorsport would gain one of its most enduring icons. The 356 set a template, a design philosophy, that serves Porsche on road and in racing to this day. Simply put, the car was aerodynamic when that was uncommon, light in a world of leviathans, stupendously reliable and efficient in all senses of that word. And victorious from day one.

In fact, the very first road car out the door of the plant in Gmund, Austria – to which the Porsches had retreated after the war – was campaigned by its owner, taking victory in a minor, but hugely symbolic event at Innsbruck during the summer of 1948. Ferdinand Porsche, sadly, did not live to see the factory seriously embrace racing, though he did sketch out the lines of a low-drag 356 racer which, he figured, could win its class at Le Mans; but by then the reins had been handed to the pragmatic and conservative Ferry.

Porsche 550 Spyder at the Carrera Panamericana

Clockwise from top: The 550 Spyder took over from the 356; the lightweight 356 SL, complete with aerodynamic wheel spats; at the Carrera Panamerica in 1954 with a 550 Spyder in Buenos Aires; the 904 Carrera GTS

During the early 1950s, a madly enthusiastic French importer had been pressing Ferry Porsche to bring his cars to Le Mans. He came, and saw for himself in 1951 that the little 356s contained the stuff of victory. Porsche watched as a scarcely modified 356 circulated consistently and reliably, using an average 87mph of its 99mph top speed on every lap. The car duly claimed class victory. For Ferry, that race was the physical expression of the company’s never-abandoned philosophy.

“Ferdinand didn’t live to see Porsche embrace racing, but he did sketch a low-drag 356”

It carried on with the even more spectacularly successful 550, launched in 1953. Its four-cam engine produced 110bhp at 7000rpm – in RSK form the engine delivered 155mph from 148bhp at 8000rpm – good enough to put Porsche on the podium 15 times that year. And nowhere was the car’s mettle more tested than on the gruelling Carrera Panamericana, where a 1600cc 550 took a class victory with José Herrarte at the wheel.

The legend grew; the guiding hand behind Porsche’s burgeoning race success, Fritz Huschke von Hanstein, would ensure that the marque’s presence in motorsport would spread ever wider. But while it has been said that von Hanstein was to Porsche what Alfred Neubauer was to Mercedes, that falls far short of the mark. Where Neubauer restricted Mercedes’ relatively infrequent forays into motorsport with grand prix and sportscar racing, von Hanstein was keen that Porsche be as feared on the rally stages as on the rumble strips.

That meant endless development and innovation. As always, lightness, efficiency and the relentless pursuit of reliability would figure in all Porsche did. When the 904 GTS was conceived, it was the first foray Porsche had made into glass-fibre bodies. The result was an ultra-light body shell – held aloft by two young women in the publicity stills – mounted on a fabricated chassis frame. The hard points were 2-litres, 180bhp and 165mph.

Ferdinand Porsche and Ferry Porsche pictured together

Ferdinand (left) and Ferry Porsche

But even Zuffenhausen was fallible; the prettiest Porsche to date made its race debut at the Sebring 12 Hours. In one of its most important market debuts, the new Porsche finished a dire 20th, the result of clutch trouble. Time then, for Porsche to display another trait that helps explain its domination of sports racing throughout the ’60s and ’70s. It just tries harder the next time around.

The 904 GTS had its first European outing on the Targa Florio in 1963. With Jo Bonnier and Carlo Abate at the wheel, a 904 took overall victory, with second, sixth and seventh place also occupied by the Dino-esque Porsche coupé.

Porsche 356 SL sports car in silver racing trim

The lightweight 356 SL that Ferdinand had likely always envisioned

Rallying, too, was always going to be a Porsche speciality, embraced as an integral part of its motorsport program, Indeed, the 356 had established early on its fitness for duty, with that rear-engined weight bias and those indestructible mechanicals. Porsche’s storming of rallying’s jewel, the Monte Carlo, is good evidence of the company’s single-minded approach; Porsche enjoyed four class wins between 1962 and ’67, with three overall victories going to the 911.

The company’s first outright victory came to Vic Elford and navigator David Stone in 1968. The margin reflecting Porsche’s legendary preparedness was huge. In fact, second place overall also went to a 911, piloted by Henri Toivonen and Martti Tiukkanen. Dejected BMC pilot and third-place man Rauno Aaltonen reportedly said at the Monaco finish, “If I’d had another 100bhp, I could have competed.”

Porsche 959 tackling rocky terrain during the Paris-Dakar Rally

The fearsome 959 Dakar challenger, at home in the dunes

And then another signal victory in 1984. When Mercedes-Benz G-wagen driver Jacky lckx took overall victory in the sand-blasted 6000 mile Paris-Dakar Rally in 1983, Porsche’s interest was piqued. So much so that the company decided to field three four-wheel drive 911s for the next year’s event. The absolutely punishing marathon was, almost inevitably, won by one of the 911s. And then Porsche came back in 1986, with the wildest rally car yet in its history. The 959 boasted 400bhp from its 2.8-litre turbo-charged ’six and a six-speed gearbox. It just ran away with the event, with René Metge and Dominique Lemoyne finishing first. This time, though, another duo of 959s finished second and sixth. And while the Paris-Dakar rally marked the end of Porsche’s official involvement in rallying, the 959 lived on as a road car, developed as Porsche’s most ambitious supercar project yet. The technical boss for the 959 program, Roland Kussmaul, moved on to develop the 961, basically a circuit-based version of the 959.

To the rallying, sportscars, GTs portfolio, add a surprisingly big Formula 1 presence. Once again, it is Porsche’s thoroughness in engineering and preparation that brought success. It’s easy to forget that in 1960, Porsche took victory in the Formula 2 Championship with the 718, running to regulations that Formula 1 would adopt the following year. And while it is better known in Formula 1 for its engines, there’s no forgetting that Porsche fielded, if only briefly, its own grand prix car.

Porsche 911 T competing in the 1968 Monte Carlo Rally

Clockwise from top: The 911 of Toivonen and Tiukkanen dominated the 1968 Monte Carlo Rally; Lauda secured his third and final F1 title in a Porsche-powered McLaren; the TAG-badged Porsche 1.5-litre turbo engine; a 911 in action on the 1965 Monte Carlo

Much later and perhaps much more famously, McLaren deployed the 1.5-litre 750bhp Porsche-designed TAG V6 turbo engine in its MP4/2 during the 1984 season. The result was another piece of F1 history; that Porsche engine powered the McLaren to 12 victories in 16 races, handing the title to Niki Lauda in the process. Between them, Alain Prost and Niki Lauda won 22 out of 48 grands prix held between 1984 and ’86.

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In fact, the list of F1 drivers who have raced Porsches on the way to the top of their careers is one that comprises most of the greats from the past few decades. To name but a few: Ayrton Senna, Stirling Moss, Damon Hill, Alan Jones, Mario Andretti, Jochen Mass and Derek Warwick.

But it was the prototype 910 in 1967 that signalled the depth of Porsche’s giant-killing aspirations. The car had echoes of the Carrera 6’s gull-winged supercar styling and would lay the foundation for the greats to follow, first in the form of the 907. That car made its first appearance before an amazed audience at Le Mans in 1967. It finished fifth overall, not a bad result, but not good enough; in the Porsche way of things, the car’s development continued apace, resulting in the far more competitive 908. That car produced a victory at the Nürburgring and third place at Le Mans in 1968. Good results, but just a teaser of what lay around the corner.

Porsche racing cars spanning the 356, 904 and 917 eras

Clockwise from top left: the 908 catches some air at the Nürburgring; a 907 long-tail at Le Mans in 1968, two years before the 917 made history; the 910 Bergspyder, which won the 1967 European Hillclimb Championship; the 917 in glorious Gulf Oils colours

For 1968 was also the year that von Hanstein would be replaced in the racing department by Ferdinand Piëch, grandson to Professor Porsche and the driven soul behind VW’s current frenzy of acquisition. Piëch’s genius includes one of the greatest credits an engineer can produce; one of his first tasks at Porsche had been to design the 911’s flat-six, but his real legacy would come with the 917, and a commitment to the highest reward that Le Mans offers.

“To me, the 550 was the sportscar of all-time in terms of winning”

Worth repeating. It’s all about preparedness and development and nobody does that better than Porsche. Renowned car historian Karl Ludvigsen reckons Porsche’s recent decision to move away from motorsport is unlikely to be permanent: “It’s a shame that Porsche is going out on a bit of a downer. Sure, it did well at Le Mans, but it seems to have floundered everywhere else. But I doubt it’s a decision it would take forever and ever. Porsche will be back when it sees the right opportunity.” And deservedly, reckons Ludvigsen; “As far as I’m concerned, the 550 was the sportscar of all-time in terms of winning for both factory and private entries. But the really dramatic period for Porsche was through the 910 to 917.”

Gulf-liveried Porsche 917 prepared for Le Mans racing

The Salzburg car that finally won Le Mans for Porsche in 1970

Le Mans 1970 and the 917. Perhaps one of Porsche’s greatest moments ever, celebrated elsewhere in this magazine. That car and that victory were the ultimate reward for decades of single-mindedness, an expectation of nothing less than perfection.

One of the most experienced chroniclers of Porsche’s history, Julius Weitmann, had a pretty defining take on it all in the foreword to his book, Porsche Story. “It is by way of tribute to a handful of men who, on alien soil and starting with nothing apart from unbelievable idealism, began to work without knowing where their way would lead, and with one goal only – to create something after all had turned to smoke and dust.”

They’ll be back.

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Porsche’s winning formula: lightness, reliability and relentless development

Max Verstappen didn’t win the Nürburgring 24 Hours. But he did something that the combined might of Mercedes, Ferrari, BMW, Aston Martin, Lamborghini and, yes, even Porsche, has failed to achieve. He made us tune in to GT racing.

GT racing has had great grids for a decade or so now. The cars are recognisable, they look great in full flight and the racing is close. Yet it has still never fully cut through to achieve wider recognition. Turns out what it needed was Formula 1’s most singular talent taking on endurance racing’s most singular challenge.

It benefited all. Verstappen, whether in the air or on the grass, proved he’s a total racing nut and we loved him for having a go. The event sold out for the first time ever as 230,000 fans descended on this corner of the Eifel region, and everyone, from headline sponsors to local biergartens , profited.

Manthey Porsche 911 GT3 on track at the Nürburgring

From left: Lessons learned on track have reached the road; Max’s Mercedes, Nürburgring 24 Hours ’26

Porsche

But among all this hype and hyperbole, there was a nagging problem. The issue is this: most manufacturers present don’t seem to believe that racing improves the breed. Lamborghini has been involved in GT3 racing for a decade; Aston Martin and Ferrari for double that; BMW and Mercedes have both been there for 15 years. They’re all racing modified but instantly recognisable road cars. And yet none of them has allowed their race car to influence road car development.

All apart from one. On the grid, the biggest rival for Verstappen’s No3 Winward Mercedes shared with Jules Gounon, Dani Juncadella and Lucas Auer was the No911 Manthey Porsche 911 GT3 R. Painted in traditional lurid ‘Grello’ fluoro, the Manthey-run Porsches are a fixture at the N24. In fact no team has won the Nürburgring 24 Hours more – seven times. And Porsche is the only marque that uses its Manthey-run race cars to influence its road car development.

“This car puts its arms around your shoulder and leads you on”

Which brings us to the machine we have here, the revised 992.2 911 GT3 with Manthey Kit. This is a £56,000 option. For that you get a badge on the console, illuminated carbon door sills and LED puddle lights. Not even joking. But then there’s the stuff that actually makes it go faster, which focuses on two areas: suspension and aerodynamics. And boy does Manthey know what it’s doing there.

Porsche Manthey 911 GT3 racing at the Nürburgring

From left: Manthey No911 didn’t finish this year’s N24; Grille nod to Porsche’s Development Centre

Porsche

But first a bit of history. Manthey Racing was founded in 1996. Having started with 911s in the Porsche Supercup – and taking victory in both the drivers’ and teams’ championships every year from 1997 to 2000 – it went on to win FIA WEC championships and six Le Mans class victories. In 2013 Porsche took a controlling stake – effectively making Manthey its in-house race team.

Porsche has long prided itself on how fast its road cars, as well as its race cars, go around the Nürburgring. However, the GT2 RS had lost its crown to the AMG GT Black Series in 2020. So the one place it could turn was to the company that knew more about making 911s faster around a track than anyone else on the planet.

Porsche 911 GT3 Manthey seats and front exterior

From left: Strap in – the Manthey Kit makes the 911 GT3 6sec a lap faster on the Nürburgring; Better cornering speed

Porsche

Porsche went back to the Nürburgring with a GT2 RS modified by Manthey and knocked 4sec off its own lap time, reclaiming the production car lap record. But what went into achieving that might help explain why Porsche allows racing to influence road cars, and why Manthey is held in such high regard. Because this was not some free-for-all project where the sky was the limit. In order to still qualify as a road car and not force Porsche to go through a lengthy and costly re-homologation, the car had to fit the exact same template as the existing GT2 RS. It couldn’t be lighter, it couldn’t be more powerful, it couldn’t use more fuel and it couldn’t have more aero drag. And any new components also had to survive the exact same durability and quality tests as the ones they were replacing, allowing them to be warrantied for up to 15 years.

Manthey rear wing and Porsche 911 GT3 cockpit

From Left: Revised Manthey-marked carbon rear wing; The ride never feels too wild

Porsche

So successful was the project that Porsche, even if it doesn’t admit it, now has two separate Nürburgring lap times. One set by the factory car, another by the same car modified by Manthey. Its Cayman GT4 RS, 911 GT3 RS and most recently the electric Taycan Turbo GT have all had their lap times improved (in the case of the latter, by more than 12sec) and crowns regained.

This revised 992.2 911 GT3 is the latest to get the Manthey treatment. So how does it differ from the ’standard’ version?

Porsche 911 GT3 Manthey cornering on track with rear wing

Porsche

The first surprise is that while the front springs are 20% stiffer, the rears are 7% softer. The adaptive dampers are replaced with a set of four-way adjustable passive shocks built by KW to Manthey’s specifications. But it’s the aero that contains the trickery. Because while you’re thinking it’s all about downforce, the first thing to note is that it’s actually 7% cleaner through the air. Then yes, it also develops significantly more downforce. This chiefly comes from air passing under, not over, the car.

Porsche 911 GT3 Manthey Kit on track

The 911 GT3 was already optimised for high downforce but the Manthey Kit goes further

Porsche

A deeper splitter protrudes 12mm further and curls slightly upwards, pulling air down and into the underfloor which has been entirely redesigned to twist, turn and use the air as effectively as possible. Some of the vanes are up to 150cm long, providing corridors for the air to pass along before it’s diffused back into the atmosphere, having contributed to a total downforce figure of 540kg at 177mph. But all the eye sees is the disc rear wheel covers and the bigger rear wing end plates, the former helping to clean airflow down the flanks, the latter turning the air inwards to glue it to the car over the engine cover’s ducktail.

Obviously you’re paying for the intricacies of development and engineering here – and you haven’t stopped paying yet, as Manthey offers further options. You can have sets of their bespoke brake pads (£1275 for the fronts, £1175 for the rears) for the carbon ceramic discs, and for £9160 this car features Manthey’s lightweight aluminium wheels, which save 6kg over Porsche’s equivalents. A further £12,000 buys you a purely cosmetic carbon pack that replaces the regular bonnet vents and engine cover.

Don’t bother doing an equation between cost and lap time improvement because it doesn’t make for pretty reading. Instead we can marvel in the knowledge that the Nürburgring lap time improved from the standard car’s 6min 56.29sec to 6min 52.98sec. But that wasn’t enough for Manthey, so in mid-April with better weather conditions, it went back and driver Ayhancan Güven lopped another 2sec off that.

“A race team making a road car smoother and faster. This could catch on”

Impressive. However, this is a road car – it can’t be just about track speed. But let’s start there – or more specifically at Thruxton, home to a selection of ballsy high-speed corners. The downforce isn’t what I notice. That’s always hard to spot until it goes away. It’s usually the moment the trouble begins.

Instead it’s a sense of calmness under pressure, of a car that’s clearly working hard but exudes competence and control. It’s not sharp or snatchy as it deals with the mid-corner surface changes through Noble and Goodwood. Speeds are way up over 100mph, yet although there is a bit of lateral shimmy, the movements are composed, almost languid, the steering writhing gently despite the loads. The impression is of a car travelling fast, but unhurriedly. It’s not busy or hectic, so as a driver you find yourself following its lead. It’s not edgy about what’s going on, so neither are you. This is a car that puts its arm round your shoulders and leads you on.

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Essentially there’s more give in the suspension than I expect. Very little travel, but what travel there is packs in a fantastic amount of damping, rounding the edges off every impact, filtering the signals and taking the sting out of Thruxton’s trickier sections. One of the smaller features you get with the Manthey Kit is braided steel brake hoses that are meant to provide more direct pedal feedback, but Porsche has always done fabulous brakes, so I can’t say I noticed. But again it was the smoothness of how it slowed, no weave or distraction, that impressed. So trail braking to the apex was more accurate and more rewarding, and after that the GT3’s powertrain gets to strut its stuff.

Say what you like about a car that ‘only’ has 500bhp, but never doubt its commitment. The 4-litre flat six is one of the hardest working motors around. It gives its all, singing round to 9000rpm, flicking PDK gearshifts through in a split second, wasting no energy. It might not put the same force through your spine as a turbocharged McLaren or Ferrari, but it’s as exciting to use, and has the responsiveness and soundtrack that no modern blown engine can match. It never feels like the weak link.

Time for the road and another surprise. The ride quality feels as impressive out here as on circuit.

Again it’s more supple in its movements than the regular GT3, so the car has a real sense of flow. And passive dampers, don’t forget, where the standard car’s are adaptive. This means time spent under the car if you want to adjust them. However, there’s only a couple of clicks between Manthey’s recommended settings for Nürburgring and UK roads – which probably reflects badly on one or the other.

Porsche 911 GT3 Manthey rear wing and lightweight wheel at sunset

Porsche

It’s reminiscent of the lightweight, limited edition 911 S/T – a favourite 992 generation 911. Some will be confused by this Manthey Kit – it doesn’t give the car the locked down, attack mentality that makes the current GT3 RS so urgent and compelling. Ramping the dampers up would probably give it that, but the flow is preferable. You don’t often – possibly ever – feel the aero. But you feel the damping every single metre of the road. And it’s so good it makes you coo with admiration. Manthey is clever here – first and foremost it’s a parts business, so although they have to do a complete Porsche authorised kit for its lap to be eligible, you can go to them and select the bits you want – perhaps just the springs and dampers and leave it at that.

A race team making a road car smoother and faster. This could catch on. Manthey performing the same service for Porsche as Verstappen has for GT3 racing. Incidentally, neither Verstappen nor Manthey finished the Nürburgring 24 Hours this year. But how’s this for irony? By racing an AMG GT, Max has probably done more to reposition Merc as a sporting road-car brand in one weekend than George Russell and Kimi Antonelli will do all year. But to what end? Merc’s connection between road and race is tenuous at best. At Porsche, it’s indelible.

Porsche 911 (992.2) GT3 Manthey kit

  • Coilover kit Aluminium four-way adjustable dampers
  • Lightweight wheel set Brilliant Silver, black (satin-gloss) and Neodyme
  • Braided brake line set For more direct pedal feedback and faster response
  • Underbody fins Extended for a cleanly directed airflow to the rear diffuser
  • Price £158,200 + £56,000 kit
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Porsche’s winning formula: lightness, reliability and relentless development

When motor sport is pretty much done for the year, the American racing scene turns into bench-racing season, where footloose racers chill in their garages and swap stories about bygone exploits. Here’s a tale about one of the greatest racing pranks ever foisted upon an unsuspecting victim. But first, some backstory…

The Whittington brothers, Don and Bill, burst on the sports car scene in the late 1970s. Experienced air racers who flew World War II warbirds, they were fast and fearless. But they became famous – or maybe that should be infamous – for their widely rumoured association with the then-flourishing drug trade in South Florida.

Car collector smiling in a racing memorabilia room

At Le Mans in 1979, the Whittingtons shared a Kremer brothers Porsche 935 K3 with Klaus Ludwig. During the strategy meeting before the race, Manfred Kremer said that Ludwig, the fastest driver during qualifying, would take the start. When Bill objected, Manfred said that it was his prerogative as team owner to set the driving order. Bill then asked how much it would take to buy the car. After talking it over with his brother, Erwin, Manfred set the price at $290,000. A few minutes later, the Whittingtons presented him with a suitcase filled with the money. Counting the Benjamins, Manfred said later, took a lot longer than negotiating the deal.

The race was run in a torrential downpour. All of the favoured prototypes broke, and the Whittingon brothers’ K3 romped home to a stunning victory. A second 935 co-driven by movie star Paul Newman finished second. (Interesting footnote: car owner Dick Barbour says Newman’s Porsche carried sponsorship from the Parisian brasserie Fouquet’s thanks to another last-minute cash transaction – this one in Francs – put together in the stall of a men’s room.)

In the mid-1980s, Bill and Don were jailed on drug-related charges. (Three other IMSA stars, Randy Lanier, John Paul Sr and his son, John Paul Jr also served time.) The Whittingtons donated their K3 to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway Museum. Fast forward two decades. After complicated negotiations, the museum traded the car to major-league Beverly Hills collector Bruce Meyer for his fabled Kuzma-Offy, which Troy Ruttman had driven to victory in the Indy 500 in 1952. Meyer sent the Porsche to Bruce Canepa, who’d raced against the Whittingtons in a 935 that he still owns, and vintage races to this day. Restored in Canepa’s huge shop in Northern California, the K3 won class honours at the concours d’elegance at Amelia Island and Pebble Beach in 2013. The following January, Meyer planned to exercise the car himself at Speed Days, an exclusive track-day event for high-end vintage race cars at Laguna Seca Raceway.

Porsche 935 K3 racing on circuit

The Kremer 935 K3 sprung a surprise at Le Mans in 1979, and on its owner years later

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Around this time, reports began circulating that the Whittington brothers, who’d long since been released from prison, were being investigated again by federal authorities. Wheels started turning in Canepa’s devious brain. He and his bud Albert Arciero, who vintage races a 911 RSR, formulated a plan to punk Meyer at his garage in Beverly Hills. It didn’t take them long to realise that the upcoming test session at Laguna Seca would be an even better venue for the caper. But staging a practical joke during Speed Days also came with some risks.

“We knew it couldn’t be an Ashton Kutcher-style prank” Canepa says. “There were going to be at least 10 guys there with their lawyers and security people, so we knew we had to do it right.”

First, Canepa enlisted the moral and financial support of two of America’s most prominent collectors, Charlie Nearburg and Chip Connor. Then, he contacted a Hollywood producer, who put him in touch with three ex-police/military types who worked on movie projects as consultants charged with making sure that the law-enforcement scenes seemed authentic.

Porsche 935 K3 cockpit with racing gauges and steering wheel

The car was purchased, on race day, by the Whittingtons for $290,000. They smuggled the cash inside a race suit

Come the appointed day, the three uniformed ringers descended on the paddock in a black Suburban and a dark grey Dodge sedan. Besides wearing Drug Enforcement Agency regalia and seriously bad-ass expressions, they were carrying lethal Glock handguns and paperwork signed by a real – but recently retired – federal judge. Meyer was jazzed from finishing his first-ever session in the K3 when he was told that three guys were waiting for him by his car.

“I’m Mr Happy,” Meyer recalls. “I go dancing over there and see them dressed all in black. My first thought was that they were with the Audi team, and they wanted to see the car. But as I got closer, I saw the badges and the way they were standing there. And I thought, ‘What did I do wrong? Did I forget to pay my taxes?’”

A faux DEA agent built like a Coke machine shooed away the growing crowd while a by-the-book colleague questioned Meyer and Canepa. After examining the plate with the VIN number, he announced, “We’re confiscating all of the known assets of the Whittingtons, and we’ve got a federal seizure order for this car.”

“It just made sense. You know the car had been bought with dirty money”

Several onlookers – most notably 1985 Indy 500 winner Danny Sullivan – said they thought it was a gag. But the longer it went on, the more seriously it was taken. (It helped that a dress rehearsal had been conducted three days earlier.) A police detective and a district attorney who happened to be there purely as spectators did some checking around before concluding that the seizure was legit. When track manager Gill Campbell angrily tried to intervene, the DEA agents threatened to detain her.

Porsche 935 K3 displayed beneath an American flag

Meyer is the most affable and accommodating of men. But he looked positively ashen as he contemplated the imminent loss of a car valued at nearly $5 million. His son, Evan, who was the only person at the track besides the conspirators who knew what was going on, started to get worried. “I think we could give Dad a heart attack,” he told Canepa under his breath.

“Don’t worry, Evan,” Canepa said. “We have jumper cables.”

What sealed the deal was the arrival of the tow truck – not a fancy big rig but a greasy flatbed better suited to unceremoniously carting away parking violators than transporting vintage race cars. Loading the K3 onto the ramp without damaging the splitter required pushing the car. By this point, Meyer was so flummoxed that Canepa was able to cajole him into lending a hand, metaphorically helping the thieves steal his own car.

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“It just made sense,” Meyer says now, laughing about the hoax. “You know the car had been bought with dirty money because that’s the only money [the Whittingtons] had. So it kind of made sense that the government was taking it.”

It wasn’t until the tow truck trundled out of the paddock that the supremely well-connected Meyer finally snapped out of his trance and called a friend who was a heavyweight at the California Highway Patrol. Just when a fleet of CHP troopers were about to be dispatched to intercept the tow truck, Meyer saw it returning to the paddock with the Porsche still on the flatbed. “Wait a minute,” he said into the phone. “They’re coming back. They must’ve forgotten something.” Meyer still didn’t get it until the head DEA dude told him, “Bruce, you’ve been pranked.”

 

Retail magnate Robert Petersen seated beside motorcycles and racing memorabilia

Retail magnate Meyer is a renowned car collector, and co-founder of the Petersen Automotive Museum

In the end, though, it was Meyer who got the last laugh. Not only did he get the K3 back, but he also got a priceless yarn along with it.

Special Issue Contents Archive - Motor Sport Magazine

Porsche’s winning formula: lightness, reliability and relentless development

Almost everyone has raced a Porsche. The very thorough racingsportscars.com lists 3700 outright victories – a figure rarely still for long – for Stuttgart’s best export these past 70 years. Safe to say it’s not an exclusive club. The flipside is the selection of a Zuffenhausen 1st XI is almost impossible. (We had to include a substitute in our list as it was.) Whom to leave out? How to choose? And where to start?

Le Mans, of course: Hurley Haywood, for example, has three wins at La Sarthe. This Chicago-born class act also won a joint record five Daytona 24 Hours plus a brace of 12 Hours of Sebring – all in Porsches. That’s 10 victories from 1973-94. Ten! Hometown hero Hans Herrmann is another to have completed the endurance triple crown – and the marque’s maiden victory at each venue – and for good measure added another Sebring as well as Sicily’s Targa Florio.

Germany’s Timo Bernhard donned his crown (with Porsche) at Le Mans last season and has been winning – including a joint record five Nürburgring 24 Hours – in all types of Porsche for almost 20 years.

The above are as Zuffenhausen as unburstable reliability: Porsche people. Whereas AJ Foyt and Al Unser Jr are guys who drove Porsches, yet between them these icons won four Daytonas and a Sebring astride Germany’s Prancing Horse.

“Fast, reliable and an unselfish team player”

Back to the Porsche drivers. Haywood’s mentor Peter Gregg won three Daytonas and a Sebring. He also scored a bewildering number of IMSA GT victories, only two of which were obtained in a (cough) BMW.

Dutchman Gijs van Lennep won two Le Mans, one of which set a distance record that stood for almost 40 years, plus a Targa Florio that will remain the 911’s greatest victory.

‘Brilliant Bob’ Wollek’s career was coloured by Le Mans agonies but the Alsatian outlier compensated with four Daytonas and a Sebring. At the time of his fatal accident, cycling between track and hotel after Sebring practice in 2001, Monsieur Porsche had won almost 70 of 450-plus starts for the marque. Mr Porsche – and a challenger to Wollek for the 935 crown – was Birmingham’s John Fitzpatrick; Mark Donohue’s twin-turbo Can-Am Panzerwagens set new performance standards; and Dan Gurney scored Porsche’s only grand prix victory…

But a line must be drawn somewhere and F1 is where. Rallying, however, is unavoidable in this context…

Derek Bell in Porsche racing overalls

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TITLES 1984 WSC, 1984 DRM
12 WINS 9 WSC, 4 DRM

This independent extrovert from the Hesse region of western Germany was rushing towards widely predicted F1 glory (probably with Ferrari) when in the space of fewer than 30 races – career stepping-stones – he redefined sports cars. Sucking the last drops of performance from the 956’s underbody tunnels, poles and fastest laps abounded: 12 apiece. But so too did wins. Brushing aside words of caution from wiser, slower heads, his every stint was on the edge and he is remembered as much for his accidents – back-flipping from the lead at the Nürburging in 1983 after setting a remarkable fastest lap and the one bold move too many that claimed his short life two years later – as his skill and speed. Yet retirements were remarkably infrequent: there was not one in that stellar 1984.


Jochen Mass in Porsche racing overalls

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39 WINS including 21 WSC, 4 IMSA (1 Sebring), 6 INTERSERIE, 3 DRM

The brawny Bavarian didn’t much care for Le Mans – in particular its attitude to safety – and met with no (Porsche) success there. Neither was he a fan of 935 – though ‘Moby Dick’ wasn’t too bad apparently – nor of 936, yet he met with plenty of success in both during a whirlwind 1976 with the works squad. The ground-effect grip of 956 and 962 was more to his taste and he went on another (extended) spree six years after the first. Being paired with the best in the business helped no doubt, but his continued selection in that role was indicative of the respect of his peers and of a self-assurance that allowed him to flourish without compromising a crew mentality learned in the merchant navy.


Jacky Ickx beside a Porsche racing car

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13 WINS inc 12 WSC (2 Daytona, 1 Targa Florio, 1 Sebring)

With a number two driver’s attitude allied to a number one’s aptitude, this unassuming and wry former mop salesman from Lancashire was the perfect fit in sports cars. Happy to pick up the pieces or to go faster than the ‘top of the bill’ if necessary – usually at Spa and always with observant mechanical sympathy – he won everything bar Le Mans (with and without Porsche): his fast but inflexible co-driver missed a gear when holding a big lead in 1970. But he was willing to accept this rough – and to test assiduously – in order to take the smooth: they had scored five major wins in 1969. Had he not retired for a few unhappy months at the end of 1970 – lost momentum – his Porsche tally would have been even more impressive.


Hans Stuck smiling in Porsche racing gear

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TITLES 1985 & 1986 WSC
39 WINS including 18 WSC (4 LE MANS), 18 IMSA (3 DAYTONA)

For Porsche designer Norbert Singer, a vital factor in all bar three of its Le Mans victories to date, this English gent is the sports car ideal: fast, reliable and an unselfish team player capable of melding with co-drivers of bewildering diversity. The rock rather than a rockstar.

Rothmans Porsche 962 racing car with driver in race suit

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Getting the nod over Ronnie Peterson for a JWA 917 seat in 1971, Derek Bell won first time out in Argentina and followed team orders – not his co-driver’s from the pits! – to finish second at Spa. Ten years later, in his 40s, he won again and again in an Indian summer that lasted another decade. His seven consecutive Le Mans podiums from 1981 and Daytona/Le Mans double-double (with Holbert) in 1986-87 were Herculean.


Porsche driver strapped into a Rothmans racing car

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TITLES 1982 & 1983 WSC
26 WINS including 22 WSC (2 Le Mans), 1 DRM

It seems only right that Ford’s – and arguably Ferrari’s – most important sports car driver should also be Porsche’s. Yes, he had the best equipment, but under duress at Le Mans in 1977 this charismatic Belgian proved conclusively why that was only right: come rain or shine, he was night and day the fastest, the most complete. Plugged into an unfamiliar 936 – the team’s third string, which had spent an hour in the pits and plunged to 41st – he lost a stone while howling through the foggy dark at lap-record speed. Two unstinting four-hour sessions had him leading by 10am. His aloofness – he was shy in fact – meant that he was not to every team-mate’s liking but they had to concede that he was Porsche’s go-to guy for several good reasons – four wins and three seconds from eight consecutive Le Mans among them. Even the precocious rival that shaded him for speed felt the need to hammer home the point, with fatal consequence.

“He lost a stone while howling through the dark at lap-record speed”

Probably Ickx saw his cocky, younger self reflected in Bellof – he, too, had been nurtured by Ken Tyrrell, albeit 20 years before – and their collision at Spa in 1985, though not his fault, persuaded this professionals’ professional to retire, at the end of his contract, and after winning his final race.

Rothmans Porsche 956 racing on circuit

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Vic Elford smiling in Porsche racing overalls

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19 Wins including 14 WSC (1 Daytona, 1 Sebring, 1 Targa Florio)

For a driver who knew one way – foot to the floor, forcing the gaps, overtaking at the first opportunity – and who lived a born wheel-dealer’s nervy, high-octane existence, this Swiss met with remarkable success over longer distances: a string of victories made him Porsche’s clear leader from 1968-69. But then a “little Mexican bastard” – Seppi was half-joking about Pedro Rodríguez – invaded his territory (“He tries to kill me!”), and a civil war ensued. Mainly they traded (Gulf’s zenith blue and tangerine) paint – at Eau Rouge on lap one! – rather than insults. Siffert’s flow of wins ebbed – despite two minor ones at Thruxton in a 917! – but indelible memories came thick and fast and there was everlasting glory to be had in defeat. He’d fought like a lion against a formidable foe.

Porsche endurance driver beside a race car

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Porsche sports car racing at speed

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Klaus Ludwig

TITLE 1979 DRM
25 WINS 7 WSC (3 Le Mans), 2 imsa (1 sebring), 12 DRM, 2 INTERSERIE, 1 SUPERCUP, 1 EUROPEAN GT

Born close to and all but raised at the Nürburgring, he converted bubbling sportscar/GT potential into solid success in 1979 in the Kremer brothers’ more aerodynamic K3 take on 935: he won all bar one Deutsche Rennsport Meisterschaft (DRM) round – he finished second in the other – as well as the Watkins Glen Six Hours and Le Mans. The second victory for this smooth-driving smart operator at La Sarthe was obtained in 1984 in the absence of the works team – and despite losing three laps early on. His third the following year upstaged entirely the works, his Joest-run 956B obtaining superior mpg (for a variety of suggested reasons). Yet ‘King Klaus’ hated the place. That his 962C ran out of fuel in 1988 – a rare glitch (for car or driver depending to whom you speak) on a rare works outing – was probably the clincher.


Porsche drivers celebrating after a Le Mans victory

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TITLES 1985 WSC, 1986 & 1987 SUPERCUP, 1993 IMSA SUPERCAR
32 WINS 7 WSC (2 LE MANS), 2 IMSA (2 SEBRING), 10 IMSA SUPERCAR, 6 INTERSERIE, 5 SUPERCUP, 2 BPR GT

Though ‘Strietzel’ came late to works Porsches – he was 34 and 16 years into his career by 1985 – the ebullient German soon became their public face and made up quickly for lost time with five consecutive Le Mans podiums, including back-to-back victories in 1986-87; he ’slipped’ to fourth in 1990.

“Assured in the wet, reliable in the clutch and extremely fit”

Behind the scenes a tireless tester: his second Supercup title was won using a 962 with revolutionary PDK transmission, and he was fundamental to sorting the initially wayward 911 GT1, scoring his seventh Le Mans podium in 1996. An ace in the wet – gambles on slicks often paid off – his style was spectacular and exciting yet entirely consistent with the demands of his team.


Jacky Ickx in Porsche racing gear

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Pedro Rodríguez

9 WINS 8 WSC, 1 pacific coast

Quiet, verging on quirky, the Mexican with a penchant for a deerstalker but an aversion to physical jerks would clamber from the cramped confines of a 917K cockpit, remove crash helmet and beam a flashlight smile: not a single bead of sweat, not one strand of hair out of place after otherworldly performances that left gasping rivals on their knees: he won in the Brands Hatch monsoon of 1970 by five laps after driving 197 of 235 tours. Though he revelled in the thrill of the chase – witness his victories in 1971 at Daytona and Österreichring – he had an uncanny feel for setting the pace while taking care of machinery, and his mechanics loved him as much as did the crowds: a telling measure of the man and the driver.


Martini Porsche 935 racing on circuit

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TITLES 1977 DRM
29 WINS including 11 WSC (3 Daytona, 1 Targa Florio), 9 DRM, 1 IMSA, 4 INTERSERIE

Fastest along The Muldoon in early 917 and 935 ‘Moby Dick’ and the last of the Nürburgring’s late brakers – where once he finished fifth driving the 1976 ‘Black Widow’ 936 on its ignition in the wet because of a jammed throttle – this German’s bravery and occasional divisiveness, born of reticence as well as competitiveness, hid his silky skill and robust technical grasp from some. But not from ‘Fitz’, who reckoned him the best of the bunch: assured in the wet (a sports car must); reliable in the clutch; and extremely fit: his breakthrough Targa win was earned in blistering heat and his return from the mid-1975 Formula 1 crash that caused him physical pain thereafter was accomplished miraculously quickly. Those Daytona wins, including three from five from 1978, might have been sandwiched by a Le Mans victory (in 1979 alongside Paul Newman!) but for a jammed wheel nut.

Porsche 935 Hawaiian Tropic race car at Le Mans

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Derek Bell photographed in Porsche racing gear

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Nick Tandy

20 WINS including LE MANS, SPA 24, NÜRBURGRING 24H AND DAYTONA 24H

Such are the rose-tinted glasses these sorts of lists are constructed under, it takes something special for a modern, and current, driver to break into contention. So how about becoming the first, and only, driver to complete the set of global 24-hour race victories? Step forward Mr Tandy.

“How about becoming the first driver to complete the set of global 24-hour race wins”

After a fledgling single-seater career Tandy made the switch to sportscars with Porsche and claimed the German Carrera Cup title in 2011. That set him on a path of glory with the brand few can match.

Drafted into Porsche’s work LMP1 team for its Le Mans return after chancing his arm with an email, his stupendously consistent night-time stint in 2015 proved pivotal to the 919 Hybrid ending Porsche’s 17-year wait for another win at La Sarthe. Nurburgring 24H success followed in 2018 before he successfully nursed a failing gearbox through abysmal conditions at a Covid-delayed Spa 24H in 2020. Despite a sabbatical to Corvette, Tandy returned to Porsche in time to complete the set by guiding a Penske 963 to victory at Daytona in January 2025.

Porsche Motorsport driver wearing team cap

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Any other big races? Well, Sebring 12H and Petit Le Mans, he won those too, both with Porsche. Oh, and the Formula Ford Festival in 2007, but that one definitely wasn’t in a Porsche.


Derek Bell celebrating a Le Mans victory

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Al Holbert

TITLES 1985 & 1986 IMSA
37 WINS 32 IMSA (2 DAYTONA), 4 WSC (3 LE MANS, 1 SEBRING), 1 TRANS-AM

This son of a US pioneer Porsche racer/dealer from Pennsylvania was another great all-rounder: inspirational team boss, persuasive figurehead – he was 962’s catalyst – superb design engineer, astute sorter of chassis and a fast driver easy on equipment and fuel and on the spiritual side of calm. He had learned well at the school of Penske and Donohue. The wins began in the early 1970s in 911s and his annual European sortie during the 1980s resulted in three Le Mans wins and a third place from five starts across six years; the first victory had him nursing a car jammed in second and billowing smoke as it crossed the line. His death, aged 41, in a private plane in 1988 is the most unappreciated major loss the sport has suffered. Just ask his co-drivers.


Stefan Bellof smiling in Porsche racing overalls

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7 WINS 6 WSC (1 DAYTONA, 1 SEBRING, 1 TARGA FLORIO), 1 INTERSERIE

Who better to bring off the subs’ bench than – at the risk of mixing metaphors – this brilliant all-rounder? Witness his impact in 1968: wins Monte Carlo Rally in 911; jets to USA; wins at Daytona. His charge to victory in that year’s Targa is the epitome of sustained ferocity with accuracy: the best on that speed-happy island. Happier – and more able – than most coping with the slippery looseness of the early 917 Langheck, he was in the ascendancy at Le Mans in 1969 when halted by clutch failure. Victory would have capped three Nürburgring 1000Kms wins in four years and a 1971 Sebring success. ‘Quick Vic’ was considered family – he drove for Piëch-owned Porsche Salzburg – with good reason and was the one that the star-spangled JWA Gulf squad knew it had to beat.

Special Issue Contents Archive - Motor Sport Magazine

Porsche’s winning formula: lightness, reliability and relentless development

It will not have escaped your attention that fast car manufacturers are engaged in a seemingly endless, futile and entirely counterproductive power struggle. Porsche is as guilty as anyone, but not its Motorsport department, responsible for its GT series cars. The engineers who work there beg to differ.

Which is why this new 911 GT3 has a grand total of 10bhp more than the last, not enough to shave so much as a tenth off its 0-60mph time. Then again, if what you want is a normally aspirated engine producing around 500bhp from a 4-litre capacity, that’s the price you pay. The reward is a motor that is internally identical to that in the Carrera Cup racing car, revs to 9000bhp and makes a noise of which a modern V8 Ferrari or McLaren could only dream.

Porsche 911 GT3 interior with steering wheel and manual gearbox

Instead Porsche has chosen to make the GT3 not only faster – think 18 seconds around the Nürburgring faster – but better to drive fast too. There is the usual obsessive attention to weight loss. The additional mass of the 992 series bodyshell and its GT3-specific aero addenda are almost completely offset by weight saved in the exhaust, battery, bonnet, glass, rear deck, engine mounts, engine internals, wheels and sound deadening material.

That wing package comes with adjustable rear spoiler with swan neck mounts to free the flow of air under the wing and an adjustable front diffuser. The driver can also alter the toe, camber, ride height and anti-roll bar settings.

The biggest change is the one you can’t see, unless you remove a wheel. Behind its 408mm disc you’ll find the first double wishbone suspension system to be fitted to a street 911. Only the RSR Le Mans car is similarly equipped. Fully rose-jointed, it removes not only what little slack existed in the previous MacPherson strut system but probably the last mechanical link back to the 1963 original if, of course, you except the flat-six motor in its boot.

There’s not much else to discuss in the powertrain and nothing whatsoever that will surprise an existing GT3 owner. The engine is the same extraordinary howling, wailing orgy of mechanical ecstasy it was in the last car, the PDK gearbox remains as good an example of a double-clutch system as you’ll find, and six manual gears remain a no-cost option.

Porsche 911 GT3 cornering on track with rear wing

Air outlets on the carbon bonnet are competition-derived

The chassis, however, is very different indeed. Porsche has decided to make this GT3 not just faster around a track, but more sporting in feel on the road, too. Its front spring rate has near enough doubled, meaning some of the compliance of the old system has been lost. I certainly wouldn’t want its B-road ride to be any firmer and I hope that when the wingless, road-oriented Touring arrives towards the end of the year it will have less challenging settings.

But take it to a track, as Porsche insists the majority of GT3 drivers will, and it’s obvious from the out lap why it’s been set up this way.

The first thing you notice is front-end grip no GT3 on standard Michelin Cup 2 tyres has ever had. It’s quite unlike a 911 in this regard, where the nose has always needed quite careful management to get it turned in. Not any more: this one has a voracious appetite for an apex. Once you’ve got over the surprise, the GT3 feels more neutral, fluent, accurate and much faster. The entire car feels better balanced and more like the mid-engined machine it clearly isn’t. The old ’slow in, fast out’ 911 adage can now be modified to ‘fast in, fast out, fast everywhere’.

“Porsche decided to make this GT3 not just faster round a track, but more sporting on the road, too”

And this is almost exclusively good news, not least because the improvements in the GT3’s suspension are matched by an aero package that is most definitely not there for the sake of appearances. With the rear wing at its steepest angle it produces 385kg of downforce, which I’d say is close to optimal for this kind of car. Any less and it would not feel so settled and confidence-inspiring in quick curves, any more and it would require stiffer springs to support the body, compromising low-speed grip on track and the firm ride quality on the road.

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If all this new-found ability has a downside, it is that the car is more serious and less playful than before. Of course you can still break the back loose and vaporise the Michelins in a series of extravagant drifts, but this is a car whose natural inclination to slide has been reined in at both ends: less understeer on the way into a corner, less oversteer on the way out. Clearly it’s the quicker way to go. But more fun? That depends on how you choose to drive such cars, and the truth is that despite what we see on television, even GT3 drivers don’t tend to spend their time in a state of perpetual opposite lock nirvana. It’s not easy, you look foolish if you get it wrong and it can be expensive, too.

This, then, is so much more than the next GT3 down the line. Porsche has decided to do this one quite differently, and while some will welcome its ability on track, my advice to those planning on using a GT3 as a regular road machine is to satisfy yourself that its ride and refinement remain within acceptable bounds. But if you’re planning on going anywhere near a track in one, prepare to be shocked by its abilities.

In this regard it’s now not so far away from the previous GT3 RS, which can mean only one thing: the GT3 RS we’ll see next year will have to be mad to maintain the gap. I can’t wait.

PORSCHE 911 GT3

  • PRICE £127,820
  • ENGINE 4 litres, 6 cylinders
  • POWER 503bhp
  • WEIGHT 1435kg
  • TORQUE 479lb ft
  • POWER TO WEIGHT 351bhp per tonne
  • TRANSMISSION Seven-speed double clutch, rear-wheel drive
  • 0-62MPH 3.4sec
  • TOP SPEED 198mph
  • ECONOMY 21.7mpg l CO2 293g/km
  • VERDICT Whether used on the track or as a daily car, you will be satisfied
Special Issue Contents Archive - Motor Sport Magazine

Porsche’s winning formula: lightness, reliability and relentless development

Remember when life on the road was one of simple pleasures? Of naturally aspirated engines, manual transmissions and cars that felt under no obligation to scold you if you broke a speed limit by 1mph or dared avert your gaze from the road for a fraction of a second to turn up the volume on the radio? To the common-or-garden tester of modern cars, such days feel as distant as they do enchanted.

And it’s getting worse. Microphone-equipped cameras are now popping up measuring your exhaust noise, and if it’s any louder than its certification documents say it should be, you’re going to get billed. Someone told me at the Bicester Scramble that they’d been pinged for not turning off their engine at some traffic lights…

Porsche Cayman GTS interior with manual gearbox and steering wheel

Everything you want, and nothing more

And it is indicative of how miserable is the lot of the modern motorist that my first thoughts upon climbing aboard this Porsche Cayman GTS were not for its fabulous 4-litre flat-six turbo-free engine, the balance of its handling or the lucidity of its steering, but the fact it’s probably the last new car I’ll ever drive that lets you do just that: drive. No bings, no bongs, no electronic brain thinking it can steer better than you. Just get in, belt up and drive.

So of course you can’t buy one any more. The Cayman and Boxster were killed in Europe some time ago because their security systems were deemed to be not up to regulatory snuff and now they’ve gone in the UK, to be replaced by new cars that sit on an all-new EV platform.

Of course the new electric Cayman and Boxster were conceived when people thought electric cars in general would be rather more popular than has so far transpired and electric sports cars in particular: the MG Cyberster is the only one on sale in the UK, just 360 have been sold in the last 18 months according to the How Many Left? website, of which close to 20% are for sale again on Autotrader. The Porsches will, of course, fare better for all sorts of reasons, but the company is clearly nervous about it, and sufficiently so to communicate very recently that ‘top’ models will be fitted with internal combustion engines after all, which would require more than a little re-engineering to achieve.

The outgoing car is simply gorgeous. I took it across my favourite Welsh mountain roads as a kind of valedictory rite and to see, hear and feel it one last time. The Cayman has always been Porsche’s slowest-selling car despite the fact that I could build a sizeable argument to say that, for the money, it is its best too. And this version is the best of them.

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Too soon we forget how well-engineered, large-capacity, multi-cylinder engines behave, because there are barely any left. The way the power arrives, not all at once as in an EV, or after you’ve waited for boost to build in turbo motors, but steadily, with ever-increasing urge and aural excitement is a rare delight. If you’ve been driving turbo cars for years you’ve probably forgotten what proper throttle response feels like, or what an engine that goes to eight grand sounds like. The Cayman does all of this.

And yet what is most remarkable about this car, and the key differentiator between it and a 911 (besides price and number of seats) is that the flat six, for all its undoubted glories, is not the headline act in the same way it is in its illustrious stablemate; it’s the supporting cast, letting the real star turn shine brighter. Find yourself on roads like these and you’ll know in an instant what it is, for the calibre of this car’s handling is of the highest order. People so often equate handling with grip when it is, at best, a small component of what makes such a car memorable to drive. So many other factors that never get mentioned – the driving position, the location of major controls, all-round visibility and even something as apparently minor as the material from which the steering wheel rim is covered are, to me, just as important. And the Cayman gets every one of them right.

Green Porsche Cayman GTS viewed from the rear on road

You don’t drive it in time-honoured ’slow-in, fast-out’ 911 tradition to maximise the advantage of having your engine outside the wheelbase; in the Cayman ‘fast-in, fast-out’ is standard. Carry the speed, keep off the brakes, maintain the equilibrium and watch this fly. Feel it too as the suspension takes the strain and the grin widens. And when you’re done, cruise home quietly and comfortably, and marvel at its bandwidth.

That’s why I’m going to miss it. There’s so little to criticise. The fuel consumption ain’t great and the interior looks old – but that’s about it. Like all the best Porsches it’s not merely how fun it is to drive, but how that fun is so easily accessed.

So I wait with breath duly bated for its replacement. What an act it has to follow. It’s just as well, then, that no one will know that better than Porsche.

PORSCHE CAYMAN GTS

  • PRICE £75,300
  • ENGINE 4.0 litres, six cylinders, petrol
  • POWER 394bhp
  • TORQUE 317lb ft
  • WEIGHT 1435kg (DIN)
  • POWER TO WEIGHT 275bhp per tonne
  • TRANSMISSION Six-speed manual,rear-wheel drive
  • 0-62MPH 4.0sec
  • TOP SPEED 179mph
  • ECONOMY 28.0mpg
  • CO2 230g/km
  • VERDICT Farewell to a giant
Special Issue Contents Archive - Motor Sport Magazine

Porsche’s winning formula: lightness, reliability and relentless development

So fast is the pace of change among ultra-fast road cars at present that when I drove the Lamborghini Huracán Performante it was the fastest production car to lap the Nürburgring. Yet by the time I came to write about it just a month later, it had already been beaten by another car. This car, as it happens.

So we now find ourselves in an era when a road car made in unlimited numbers, derived from one that is a very common sight on our roads indeed, is now as quick around a track as all but the very fastest Group C cars of the early 1980s. These cars were not only pure prototypes, but weighed less than a tonne, had full ground-effect bodywork and massive slick tyres. So if you can afford the £207,506 Porsche asks for a GT2 RS, you can forget the fact that it laps fully 10sec faster than the limited-numbers hybrid hypercar 918 Spyder that cost more than three times as much, and concentrate on the rather more focusing fact that you have a car as quick as customer-specification 956 with a professional driver at its wheel.

It’s crazy, and one day I really will return from one of these tests and just cry “Enough!” Indeed, having been bitten by the previous GT2 RS harder than any other road car I’ve driven in the last 25 years, I fully expected that time to be now. But it seems not.

Porsche 911 GT2 RS interior with carbon seats and roll cage

Red is often a sign of danger, but not here

As you will now be correctly speculating, back in 2010 I crashed the last GT2 RS. My excuse is I was on a private track, I’d grown tired of doing endless drift shots for my photographer and decided to do one that would not need repeating, with some fairly inevitable consequences. I got caught out by the turbo lag, I was a split-second late with the correction, over compensated and off the track we duly went. The damage was so light the car resumed its duties later that day, but I’d crashed it all the same.

The good news is that this one is even more powerful, to the tune of 80bhp, and has even more torque. So much, in fact, that the lunatics in Weissach who dream up these cars briefly came over all responsible and seriously considered retaining the four-wheel-drive system from the 911 Turbo S, from which the GT2 RS is derived. But where’d be the fun in that? With 691bhp from a massively tuned 3.8-litre twin-turbo flat six in a car weighing just 1410kg with the optional ‘Weissach pack’ (comprising magnesium wheels, a carbon roof and – get this – carbon-fibre anti-roll bars and a titanium roll cage), it is a barely believable 31sec per lap quicker around the ’Ring than the car it replaces. The one I crashed.

Of course you don’t get that kind of decrease in lap time with just some extra power brought courtesy of bigger turbos, a titanium exhaust and an engine remap. Tyre technology has moved on in giant leaps since the start of the decade and the Michelin Pilot Sport Cup 2 tyres on the GT2 RS are bespoke to the car. It has stiffer springs than the Turbo S but softer anti-roll bars. A huge aero programme, featuring the biggest wings ever seen on a standard production Porsche, now brings downforce you will not mistake in quick racetrack corners, while all the refinements already seen on the last-generation GT3 RS (such as its carbon-fibre bonnet and engine cover) are common to the GT2 RS as well.

If the looks fail to scare you, the sound will finish the job. Andreas Preuninger, the man behind all of Porsche’s GT-series cars, told me with unconcealed glee that the car sounds the way it does because, “It does not pretend to be something else, and is allowed to sound like a late 1970s 935 race engine.” I can confirm he is not kidding. It growls into life, its voice deep, mean and urgent. Some 911 straight sixes sound wonderfully mellifluous even at idle; this, emphatically, is not one of them. Having heard the bark, you’d not be human not to wonder about the bite to come.

Porsche 911 GT2 RS attacking a racetrack corner

If you read anywhere else of someone reckoning to have got the most out of this car on the public road, I’ll show you either a fantasist or someone who should never be allowed to hold a steering wheel again. It evoked in me a feeling I’ve felt in a few other road cars, but only really specialist stuff like the LaFerrari and McLaren F1. They made the network of roads and streets feel like a net around the car, one from which you try to break free at your peril. Driving becomes an exercise in saintly restraint. Attempts to savour the performance become mere frustrations, impotent little squirts, still strong enough to eliminate straights in all but an instant and close the gap to the car in front faster still. You need to take it somewhere where it can be released.

In the meantime there is still stuff to enjoy. It rides remarkably well and the noise levels in the cabin are acceptable despite its polycarbonate side and rear screens. If you asked for yours to be fitted with navigation, entertainment and other usual refinements, you could happily use one every day. The enormous front Michelins tramline a little, but no more than you might expect from such a car, and otherwise the steering is excellent. But all the time you’re aware that you’re clopping a racehorse around a manège, and while it will do it, that is not its purpose in life.

I know this because I was able to complete a dozen laps of the Silverstone Grand Prix Circuit in the car before I had to give it back. Laps in which every other car on the track day, be it Ferrari or Caterham, simply became obstacles to be approached, negotiated and dispatched.

Usually I’d expect such a car to be quite difficult to drive until you’d learned its ways and then, with familiarisation, become progressively easier. That would be logical, but it was not quite my experience. In fact at first I could barely believe how well behaved it was. As you can imagine the power is immense, but it arrives far more progressively than in the last GT2 RS; in all my time in it, the new car didn’t scare me once. The most obvious manifestation of this is a level of traction you could scarcely credit to a rear-drive car with more than 550lb ft of torque to transmit. I don’t know how it does it, but I’m mightily glad it does. An easily understood measure of just how successful Porsche has been here is that it will get to 62mph in 2.8sec, quicker with two driven wheels than the Lamborghini Huracán Performante is with four.

“It’s a barely believable 31sec quicker around the ’Ring than the car it replaces”

But after a while, the GT2 RS actually becomes a little harder to drive. This is because the performance is so enormous, it places highly unusual demands on the chassis and, in particular, the brakes. This is a car that indicates more than 170mph on the approach to Stowe, meaning even the biggest carbon discs Porsche can squeeze behind the rims are going to have their work cut out. Likewise, the tyres and suspension provide apex grip of more than 1.6g if you believe the little indicator on the dash, but the car still feels like it has more power than grip. And that’s the thing: drive a GT4 or GT3 race car and I guarantee its power will be by far the least exciting component of its dynamic make-up: in relative terms they stop and corner far better than they accelerate. The GT2 RS is the reverse, so even on Britain’s biggest racetrack, the car needs managing.

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Another day, another Nürburgring time… The 911 GT3 RS has become the latest Porsche to set a sub-seven minute time around the Nürburgring as Kevin Estre lapped the Green Hell in…

By Jack Phillips

Which I must say I quite liked. I want to feel involved in the actions of cars like this, feel that whatever skill I have is making a difference. The PDK gearbox removes an element of that involvement (all RSs are PDK now and, besides, I bet Porsche doesn’t have a stick shift that would take the torque), but the need to look after the tyres and brakes puts much of it back. And you’ll still go faster than anything else wearing a number plate.

In the end a car I’d approached with some trepidation turned out to be one I absolutely adored. It’s not perfect – you can feel the heavy back end become restless through the left, right, left, right, left Becketts complex – but which 911 ever was different? What mattered far more was that I felt in charge of it in a way I never had in its predecessor. Put it this way: before I drove it, there’d never been a GT2 I’d preferred to its contemporary, normally aspirated GT3 stablemate. But if you parked every last one of them in the Silverstone pitlane – 911R included – I’d walk past the lot for one more lap in the GT2 RS.

Porsche 911 GT2 RS showing its huge rear wing

PORSCHE 911 GT2 RS

  • PRICE £207,506
  • ENGINE 3.8 litres, 6 cylinders
  • POWER 691bhp@7000rpm
  • TORQUE 553lb ft@2500rpm
  • WEIGHT 1440kg (1410kg with Weissach pack)
  • POWER TO WEIGHT 480bhp per tonne
  • TRANSMISSION seven-speed paddle shift, rear-wheel drive
  • 0-60MPH 2.8sec
  • TOP SPEED 211mph
  • ECONOMY 23.9mpg
  • CO2 269g/km
  • VERDICT Best of the breed
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Porsche’s winning formula: lightness, reliability and relentless development

1982

Not as easy as 1-2-3

Porsche laid down a marker with the 956 on its Le Mans 24 Hours debut in 1982. The in-house factory team’s trio of Rothmans-sponsored cars notched up a 1-2-3 in a portent of what was to come for the new Group C design. Yet it wasn’t as easy as it looked.

The 956 project had only been given the go-ahead at the beginning of the previous July — the start of the financial year at Porsche — and the design arrived at Le Mans with only one race and no endurance simulation under its belt. That was significant for a car that broke new ground for Porsche. It was the manufacturer’s first design built around a monocoque chassis and the prototype incorporated another first in ground-effect aero, yet it didn’t turn a wheel until the end of March.

Manfred Schurti, Halmuth Koinigg and Norbert Singer at Le Mans in 1974

Norbert Singer at Le Mans in 1974 offers advice to Helmuth Koinigg and Manfred Schurti

“There just wasn’t time for endurance testing,” recalls Norbert Singer, who headed up the design of the car. “We did our first test at Paul Ricard, raced at Silverstone, and then had to build up our three cars for Le Mans. We were sure the engine could do it because it had won the race the year before [in the 936], but the gearbox was new along with almost everything else. I was asked before the race how I felt and what our strategy was going to be. I said, ‘Let’s get to 12 hours and then 18 hours, and see if we are still running.’”

All three 956s were still running, though they had endured issues, when the clock ticked past the 18-hour mark in first, second and third positions. A late problem for the only rival within striking distance of the Porsche train meant there was nothing to stop the new car blocking out the podium.

“We finished 1-2-3, which was a great achievement,” says Singer. “We hadn’t done a 24-hour test, so seeing the three cars cross the line together was a big moment.”


Porsche 956 racing beneath the Dunlop bridge at Le Mans

It was a 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8 for the 956 in ’83, but it was no easy ride for the eventual winner, right, which suffered overheating problems

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1983

High drama right to the line

Finishes don’t come much more exciting than this. Two factory Porsches, both ailing, raced to the line in 1983 to claim a 1-2. Just. The engine in the winning 956 wouldn’t have managed another lap after claiming a narrow victory over a car that needed a change of front brake discs and was on its last dregs of fuel.

The winning car driven by Al Holbert, Vern Schuppan and Hurley Haywood looked home and dry in the closing hours. The other factory car shared by Jacky Ickx and Derek Bell had endured a difficult race from the moment the former was punted off on the opening lap. The complexion of the race changed when an incorrectly closed door was ripped off when Schuppan tried to shut it at speed.

A replacement was prepared in the pits and then the fix to keep it in place played havoc with the car’s cooling. “The air duct to the water radiator is in the door,” explains Singer, “so when the door is not properly fixed the airflow is spoiled and the engine started overheating.”

Holbert was tasked with nursing the car home. In the Ford Chicane he felt the engine seize and instinctively banged the car into first gear and stood on the throttle. Miraculously the engine freed and he set out for one last lap.

Bell was in pursuit after moving back onto the lead lap with 15 or so minutes to go. The car had cracked front brake disks, which team-mate Ickx had insisted needed changing. Bell, who took over for the run to the flag, successfully argued that they should push on in pursuit of a last-gasp victory with what they had.

“We were told never to use the transmission to slow the car, but over those last laps I beat the crap out of the gearbox,” recalls Bell, who was able to lap only a couple or so seconds off Ickx’s fastest lap. “I don’t remember the brakes getting any worse and I seemed to get quicker.”

Bell’s charge was to no avail. Holbert crossed the line to take victory by an official margin of 65sec, although Bell insists it was closer than that. His stepfather, sitting in the stands opposite the pits, had it at less than half that.


Porsche 956 racing beneath the Dunlop bridge at Le Mans

Joest’s Newman sponsored 956 was a controversial winner in 1985 – but it outclassed the works team

DPPI

1985

Privateer prevails

The Porsche factory had boycotted Le Mans ’84 over a swathe of proposed changes that it argued went in the face of FIA stability rules. The way was left clear for the marque’s privateers and Joest Racing took over the baton with its Newman-sponsored 956. Twelve months later and with the Rothmans cars back on the grid, with the long wheelbase 962 version of the 956 design, normality looked set to be restored. Only Joest, this time with Paolo Barilla and ‘John Winter’ (aka Louis Krages) joining Klaus Ludwig in the same 956 chassis that had won in ’84, did it again.

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The factory could finish no better than a distant third on a day that it endured reliability issues — the third-place car driven by Bell and Hans Stuck suffered two front wheelbearing failures – and was outraced by the best of its customers. A Rothmans car failed to lead a single lap of the race! The Joest 956 was faster than the works cars, and used less fuel along the way. Exactly how Joest did it remains shrouded in mystery, as well as a controversial topic.

Reinhold Joest had been developing Porsche’s 956 concept from the moment he got his hands on one of the cars after its release to customers for the 1983 season. He built his own engines, tweaked the engine electronics, swapped from the factory-supplied Bilstein dampers to Sachs units and produced his own underfloors. Those are all facts.

Talk of special grease and gearbox oil should probably be regarded as red herrings. They resulted from a throwaway joke, insists Singer. The less-understeery characteristics of the 956 in comparison with the 962C was also a factor, reckons Ludwig. But rumours that Joest somehow got around the fuel restrictions of the Group C formula have never gone away. So constant were the visitors – both race officials and rival team members – to the Joest pit to look at the car’s fuel readings that the late Domingos Piedade, the squad’s team manager, placed a piece of paper over the meter on the rig. On it he drew a single finger pointing upwards. The message to those with prying eyes was clear.


Rothmans Porsche 962 racing alongside a portrait of its driver

In 1987, Derek Bell, right, made it two wins on the trot at Le Mans with the Porsche works team

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1987

Eggs in one basket

Porsche kept its winning sequence going at Le Mans in 1987 in what nearly turned into its annus horribilis . One of the three cars was crashed in the pre-event shakedown at Weissach, which meant the team headed to Le Mans without a spare. Another was ruled out of the race by an accident in qualifying and then a car was lost at the start of the second hour as a result of poor-quality fuel.

That left a single 962C, driven by Bell, Holbert and Stuck, to fly the flag for Porsche in the face of a concerted assault from the TWR Jaguar team on its second appearance at Le Mans. Bell, Holbert and Stuck made it six in a row for the Porsche Group C car after leading the majority of the way. But the Jaguars put them under pressure until deep into the race.

“We had a lot of bad luck and Jaguar was pretty strong that year,” says Singer, “but you only need one car to win a race.”


Porsche 962 Repsol

The 962C of Brun lasted more than 350 laps at Le Mans in 1990, giving the Jaguars a fright

1990

Old racer with new tricks

The 956/962 was the bedrock of the grid in the world championship and beyond. The factory wound down its works programme after Le Mans ’88 and left its privateers to fly the flag. It offered works assistance to old nemesis Joest from midway through ’89, but it was one of the marque’s most loyal customers that produced an amazing performance in 1990. Brun Motorsport came within 15 minutes of splitting the TWR Jags that eventually finished 1-2.

The story of how the 962C nearly got on the second step of the podium in its dotage is all the more remarkable because the star driver in the car, Oscar Larrauri, had to sit out much of the race after a major accident on Saturday morning in the support race for Renault 21 Turbos. That left team boss Walter Brun and Jesus Pareja, a pair of drivers who weren’t in the same league as the Argentinian, to do much of the donkey work.

Brun had opted to run the Repsol-sponsored 962C with a special short tail developed by the team for the new-look Circuit de la Sarthe: 1990 was the year, of course, that two chicanes were inserted into the Mulsanne Straight. The works-assisted Joest cars ran low-downforce long-tails and as a result were outpaced.

The heroic efforts of Brun and Pareja came to nought when an oil union split at the end of the Mulsanne Straight. Pareja made it around Mulsanne Corner but his 962 stopped in the old signalling pits and the driver collapsed into the arms of team members. It was a heart-rending moment.


Porsche 962 leads a group of Group C cars at Le Mans

Dauer 962s came home 1-3 in 1994, 12 years after the 956 made its debut, giving Porsche its 13th win at La Sarthe (that figure is now 19)

DPPI

1994

956/962 in seventh heaven

The final Le Mans win for a design a dozen years in age was based on duff information. Porsche research and development boss Horst Marchart was convinced that McLaren was going to bring the McLaren F1 to the 24 Hours in 1994 and wanted to know if the car Singer had up his sleeve could beat it to honours in the GT class, which had been re-introduced the previous year.

When Singer told his boss that the update of the 911 Turbo S LM raced in ’93 wouldn’t be up to the job, Marchart gave him a week to come up with a plan B. He opted for what could be described as plan D – D for Dauer. Sometime 962 privateer entrant Jochen Dauer had been looking for help from Porsche to get certification for his road-going version of the car, so Singer came up with the idea of a car that came to be known as the Dauer 962 LM Porsche.

The car that triumphed overall to give the 956/962 its seventh victory on the Circuit de la Sarthe shouldn’t really have been in the mix. The Group C prototypes, racing at Le Mans for the final time in modified form, were faster, though the GT machinery had an advantage on fuel capacity.

Yet Porsche claimed outright win number 13 with the car driven by Yannick Dalmas, Mauro Baldi and Hurley Haywood when the best of the Group C cars, the Toyota 90C-V entered by the Japanese SARD team, ran into gear linkage problems with 90 minutes to go. It was, however, touch and go whether the Porsche would make it cleanly to the finish. The winning car had already needed one driveshaft replacing and Singer could smell the overheating grease from the CV joints each time the car pitted.

“We kept looking at the grease on the CV joints and we decided to wait until changing the halfshaft,” recalls Singer. “Then the Toyota had its problem and we said, ‘Now we don’t even think about it.’ Mr Marchart asked what the situation was. I said I wasn’t going to tell him because then you would start to get nervous.”

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Porsche’s winning formula: lightness, reliability and relentless development

The familiarity of the scene is uncanny. A gaggle of Porsche engineers huddled around the latest prototype racing car, preparing it in readiness for an attack on the most formidable track of them all.

Three and a half decades ago it was Norbert Singer crouched by the forward-hinged door of Stefan Bellof’s Rothmans-liveried 956 in the Nürburgring’s small ‘T13’ paddock. Today it’s Porsche Motorsport’s Andreas Seidl – Porsche’s LMP1 team principal – having a few words with factory driver Timo Bernhard before he too commits himself to an all-out lap of the Green Hell.

The tableau might appear similar, but the circumstances couldn’t be more different: the former a snapshot from what began as just another qualifying session at just another round of the World Sports Car Championship; the latter a meticulously stage-managed moment of singular importance and laser-guided intent. It’s a day many thought would never come. Some believed it should never come. Whatever, if all goes to plan the longest-standing and most emotionally charged lap record of them all will finally be broken.

Stefan Bellof celebrates after his record-setting Porsche 956 lap

Bellof’s lap record stood for 35 years

To understand how we got to this moment you have to appreciate the magnitude of Bellof’s record-setting lap. Here was a young German driver, blessed with unsettling speed and tipped by many as a future Formula 1 world champion. As a Porsche factory driver he was understudy to Derek Bell, Jochen Mass, Jacky Ickx and Hans Stuck, but his raw pace and utterly fearless approach immediately thrust him into a realm his supremely talented team-mates freely admitted they didn’t wish explore.

His performance in the 1983 Nürburgring 1000Kms – held on a one-off shortened circuit configuration due to construction work for the new GP circuit – would become the stuff of legend. Despite encountering traffic he set a qualifying time of 6min 11.13sec – a full five seconds faster than Mass and 25 quicker than Ickx. In the race he pulled a 36sec lead over Mass before handing over to Derek Bell, but when he got back in the car with a reduced lead he pushed even harder. Shortly after setting a new race lap record of 6min 25.91sec he had a 160mph crash at Pflanzgarten, destroying the car but making his reputation as a stellar, but untameable talent.

The Nordschleife would never again be used in this configuration. Nor would it host top-flight world championship racing, leaving Bellof’s qualifying and race lap records to stand unchallenged. Bellof’s death in an accident at Spa-Francorchamps in 1985 – while attempting to overtake Ickx around the outside at Eau Rouge – tragically cemented his legendary status.

It was long thought the opportunity to challenge Bellof’s lap times would never come, because no manufacturer would have the balls to do it. This theory didn’t reckon on Porsche’s 919 Tribute Tour. Billed as a celebration of the 919 Hybrid’s remarkable domination of the World Endurance Championship (WEC), which resulted in three consecutive Le Mans 24 Hours victories and three consecutive WEC title doubles, in truth it’s a wake to mourn the premature passing of Porsche’s LMP1 programme, which was canned a year early in the immediate aftermath of dieselgate.

The 919 Tribute is a clever exercise. One that proves that even when it withdraws from competition, Porsche Motorsport never stops competing. So, while Toyota remains the last factory team standing in the WEC’s top-tier LMP1 class, Porsche has taken its all-conquering machine on a farewell tour with a difference. One intended to give fans a last chance to see the car in action, steal some limelight and – crucially – break some lap records.

In order to achieve the latter, Porsche created the 919 Hybrid Evo – a monster of a machine, freed from the constraints of WEC regulation. Back in early April, factory driver Neel Jani set the fastest-ever lap of the Spa-Francorchamps circuit, eclipsing Lewis Hamilton’s Formula 1 2017 pole position time by more than 0.7sec and running an absurd 12sec faster than the regular 919’s pole time from the 2017 Six Hours of Spa.

Porsche 919 Evo drivers and engineers prepare for the record attempt

Porsche engineers prepare the 919; it’s like a family reunion

In May Porsche fielded the 919 Evo and a Rothmans 956 for an evocative parade lap at the Nürburgring 24 Hours, neatly sparking a speculation wildfire about a possible attempt on the Bellof record. Though Porsche remained tight-lipped, a brief and unpublicised test session on the Nordschleife in early June added grist to the rumour mill. Then, unofficially, Porsche admitted it would be running the 919 Evo in anger, but tantalisingly wouldn’t say when.

The cloak-and-dagger nature of the Nürburgring assault ramped up considerably when I received an email from Porsche GB’s PR manager. He had been told in confidence by the factory that, weather permitting, the record attempt would be made on June 29. There wouldn’t be a massive international media bunfight, but if we were content to travel out to Germany the night before and promised not to get in the way, we could loiter in the background during the record attempt the following day.

“It was thought the opportunity to challenge Bellof’s lap times would never come, because no manufacturer would have the balls”

All of which is how we find ourselves at the Nürburgring on the eve of what we know will be a momentous, hopefully successful and in all likelihood somewhat controversial day. We join the team for dinner in a suite above the GP circuit pit lane. Such is the tight-knit bond between the LMP1 team it’s a bit like gate-crashing a family get-together. There are a few speeches, but in essence this is a moment for everyone to wish Timo Bernhard well for the challenge that awaits the following morning.

For a man who has been tasked with driving an 850kg, 1200bhp projectile around the Nordschleife he looks and sounds remarkably calm. As a five-time outright winner of the Nürburgring 24 Hours that’s not entirely surprising, but there’s no denying that what lies ahead of him has more to do with ‘The Right Stuff’ than regular motor racing.

“This place is different,” he says with admirable understatement. “The margins are so small and the consequences so great you simply can’t attack the lap in a car like this as you would at, say, Spa. I have to stay away from the kerbs, so the line is slightly different to the one I know. If I can make a clean lap we will have the record, but by how much I don’t know.”

June 29 dawns with near-perfect weather. Great news as the notoriously fickle weather in the Eifel region of Germany rarely misses an opportunity to throw a spanner in the works. We need to be up and out early as the team wants to make the most of favourable track temperatures before the asphalt soaks up the heat of the day. We’ve been advised there will be an installation lap at 8am, followed by a maximum of three attempts on the record, so we head to the T13 paddock nice and early to see the car being prepped.

Once the small paddock clears of marshals’ cars as they head out to take their places around the 12.9-mile circuit, all that’s left is a Porsche Motorsport truck and trailer and a large rigid framed tent, within which is the 919 Evo and a small bank of data screens. There’s also a stack of Michelin slicks – of bespoke construction and compounds just for the ’Ring record runs – already toasting beneath their warming blankets and stacked in sets, one for each run.

Porsche 919 Evo attacks the Nürburgring Nordschleife

The 919 Evo takes the reins off the Le Mans racer, and monstered the Nordschleife

The dilemma facing us is where to go next. The circuit is so big and the car so fast there’s no chance of heading out to find a trackside vantage point from which to see it flash by on a record run and then get back to the paddock before it crosses the timing beam, but to come all this way and not see the 919 Evo out on track seems crazy. In the end we jump in our car and head for Pflanzgarten 1 to see Bernhard on his installation lap. The clatter and slap of rotor blades heralds his approach as the chase helicopter pursues the 919 up the hill from Bergwerk to the Karussell, then on to Höhe Acht – the highest point on the lap – before jinking through the Wipperman and Brünnchen sections away behind the trees to our right.

Then in a flash the 919 Evo is upon us, bursting into view as it spears down the incline towards the Pflanzgarten jump. Though clearly not in maximum attack mode, it’s a mighty impressive spectacle, the sharp rasp of the 2-litre (700-plus bhp!) V4 petrol engine overlaid by the whine of the 440bhp MGU and a thwack as 850kg of car punches a hole in the cool morning air.

Back at T13 there’s an ordered hubbub around the car as the team goes through its checks, and swaps to a fresh set of tyres. Bernhard hops out and heads into the truck for a debrief, then reappears 20 minutes or so later and jumps into the car for his first attempt. There’s no opportunity for an out lap, so he heads the ‘wrong’ way out of T13 and onto the Döttinger Höhe straight, weaving to get some heat into the tyres before turning around and blasting back towards the start.

Nürburgring lap data showing the 5min 19.546sec record

This is pressure with a capital P. Yes, he’s spent hours in the Porsche Motorsport simulator, but as Bernhard explained the previous evening, the Nordschleife isn’t somewhere you can apply everything you do on a virtual lap. The bumps, the kerbs, the proximity to the barriers and the blinding speed of the place mean he’s driving very much on feel and instinct rather than by sim-honed rote.

In an explosion of noise and energy Bernhard and the 919 Evo smash by the T13 paddock and plunge down the Hatzenbach. Ahead of him one of the most fearsome sections of the lap – the shimmy up and over Flugplatz and the flat-out charge towards Schwedenkreuz and the ludicrously daunting plunge into the Foxhole.

“It’s a mighty spectacle, the sharp rasp of the 2-litre (700-plus bhp!) V4 overlaid by the whine of the 440bhp MGU”

While Bernhard fights in the eye of the storm his efforts are played out on the bank of computer screens back at base camp. Scanned by expert eyes, his inputs appear as real-time data traces, the peaks and troughs plotting a lap of unimaginable speed. He’s in radio contact with the team, but unsurprisingly the airwaves remain rather silent while he’s on the lap.

When he crosses the line to complete his first proper run there are knowing smiles from the team. They’ve broken the record with a 5min 31sec lap, but there’s also a sense they know there’s plenty more to come. Stephen Mitas, chief engineer for the 919 Evo confirms as much, nodding at the screens as he says “That’s already pretty tasty. And he’s not even warmed up yet…”

The team falls back into the now-familiar routine of prepping the car while Bernhard is debriefed. There’s an added sense of focus now, with much attention on the suspension. I see mechanics calmly changing a rear damper unit as one of the many precautions taken to ensure the car is as fresh and safe as it can be. Mitas confirms the stresses exerted on the car are far in excess of anything seen in the WEC, so they can’t be too careful.

Timo Bernhard and Porsche team celebrate the 919 Evo record

After his second lap – a 5min 24.375sec – there’s a whisper he might not go again, but then Bernhard strides out of the truck and climbs in once more. Does he need to?

No, not really. The point has been proved. Yet the team obviously knows there’s more in the car. Question is, is there more in Timo?

Just 5min 19.546sec later we have the answer. The release of emotion from the engineers is palpable. Clear enough to know there will be no more runs. For Mitas, the man who pushed for the Evo to happen, it’s a very special moment: “This is what motor sport should be. Something extreme. Something at the limit.” In modern motor sport, where teams tend to behave as though they are delivering pre-determined outcomes rather than pulling off surprises, moments like this are rare indeed.

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More by luck than pre-planning, after the hugs, whoops and back-slapping celebrations I find myself in Timo’s path as he walks away from the car and back to the truck. I shake his hand and ask, “How was that?”, while giving him an exaggerated wide-eyed expression. He laughs, puffs out his cheeks, widens his eyes and says with absolute conviction, “That was not a walk in the park, I can tell you!”

With a brief pause in proceedings I take the chance to ask Mitas if he could print me a data trace of the record lap as a souvenir. He says “yes” and takes me into the truck. This is the inner sanctum, filled with more data engineers, all working at compact fold-down desks. There’s a big screen at the back of the trailer, where to my immense joy the guys are about to take their first look at the in-car footage.

What follows is a privilege Bellof’s engineers – and the wider world – were denied: the chance to ride alongside the driver on the fastest-ever lap of the Nordschleife. It’s a truly gob-smacking spectacle. We shake our heads, suck air through our teeth, even watch through our fingers at times, almost unwilling to look, but unable to tear our eyes away from the unfolding drama. It’s the only time I’ve ever watched in-car footage and had that same slightly nauseous sense of awe and foreboding I get when watching on-board footage from the Isle of Man TT. The speed is insane: 205mph into the Foxhole compression; a little under 190mph through the Lauda Kink; 229mph on the Döttinger straight and an average speed of 145mph. Even though it’s just us in the truck, we break into spontaneous applause.

I’m heading towards the door of the truck, data sheet in hand, when Bernhard walks in. I’m normally slow to pounce in these moments, but with rare presence of mind I seize the chance to get Timo and Mitas to sign my treasured piece of paper. As the hero of the day signs and dates the data sheet we have another brief exchange. It’s utterly revealing.

“Never in my whole life have I experienced anything like that. The speed was so intense I could feel my brain struggling to process things through some sections of the lap. Everything was happening so fast.”

But surely that’s what you’d hoped this lap would feel like? “Yes! Absolutely. Nothing in my career has felt anything like this. Nothing. I’m glad it’s this way. I wanted it to be something beyond what I know, but this… I’ll never feel anything like this again.” His words fade to a reflective pause and for a few seconds the silence speaks more eloquently than any words either of us can muster.

Looking back, I genuinely think this was the moment when what he’d done began to sink in. The significance of the lap, the commitment he’d shown, the intensity and absurdity of the speed. And his name mentioned in the same breath as his hero, Stefan Bellof.

“Does this effort count for anything? Personally, I believe Bellof’s 1983 qualifying and race laps remain the records”

Should Porsche have taken the record? Does this effort actually count for anything? These questions and more were swirling around cyberspace within moments of Bernhard’s time being announced. Personally, I believe Bellof’s qualifying and race laps in that remarkable 1983 Nürburgring 1000Kms meeting remain the lap records. Achievements enshrined in our hearts and the history books as absolute benchmarks, set by a mercurial and ultimately tragic genius during a live race meeting. Among traffic, in a racing car with half the power and downforce and on a bumpier Nordschleife.

Still, I believe the purists’ ire is misplaced, largely because Bernhard and Porsche haven’t sought to diminish Bellof’s legacy, but mostly because it is something Bellof himself would surely have relished: the fastest racing car in the world pitted against the toughest circuit in the world. Consequently I believe this new and frankly astonishing record enriches rather than erases Bellof’s sacred piece of history. We’d long suspected that, given the opportunity, a modern-day Ringmeister in a modern machine would blitz it. Thanks to Porsche and Bernhard, now we know.

Porsche 919 Hybrid and 919 Evo front-end comparison

919 Hybrid vs 919 Evo

919 Hybrid vs 919 Evo

Spot the difference between racer and record chaser

Aero

Combination of passive (flatter nose, widened rear wing and deeper front and rear diffusers) and active (front and rear DRS) aerodynamics generate 53 per cent more downforce and 66 per cent improvement in aero efficiency for vastly increased cornering speeds.

Engine

Porsche increased the turbo boost and fuel flow of the V4 engine meaning power jumps from 500bhp to 720bhp. One limiting factor is the exhaust energy recovery system – a turbine within the exhaust which generates electrical energy. This is now working beyond its design limitations of 120,000rpm due to the increase of exhaust gases.

Weight

Because it’s effectively a one-lap time attack car, endurance racing kit such as air jacks, lights, air-conditioning and many of the on-board control systems have been jettisoned to achieve a 39kg weight saving over the standard car’s 875kg.

Hybrid

Unlike the WEC-spec 919, which had to manage its electrical energy to deliver boost at pre-determined points on the circuit (mainly in the early exit phase of low-speed corners), the Evo’s more powerful hybrid system delivers electric energy whenever the throttle is open. Power is up from 400 to 440bhp, bringing the Evo’s total output to 1160bhp.

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Porsche’s winning formula: lightness, reliability and relentless development

Think of your favourite Porsche Le Mans racer. Many would plump for the 917 or, just as likely, the 956/962. Relatively few would pick the car that is sandwiched between them in the lineage of Stuttgart sports-prototypes. Yet this car scored more victories in the Le Mans 24 Hours than the 917, allowed Jacky Ickx to drive his best ever race and set Derek Bell on the road to becoming a sportscar superstar. It was even the catalyst for the car that followed. Step forward the 936.

The 936 is the forgotten Porsche sports-prototype. That’s bizarre considering its record. This Group 6 roadster went to Le Mans every year between 1976 and 1981 and was a frontrunner each time. It won on three occasions and arguably should have done so twice more. Not bad for a parts bin special built in double-quick time, a car that was more than once rushed back into service at short notice.

Martini Porsche 936 testing on a road circuit

Stommelen debuted the 936 in the April 1976 Nürburgring 300Km, finishing fifth overall

The 936 was conceived at a meeting held at Weissach late in 1975, though exactly who suggested it is a matter of debate. Norbert Singer, Porsche chief engineer at the time and project leader on the 935 Group 5 contender, insists it was the invention of Porsche board head, Dr Ernst Fuhrmann.

Singer was present at what he calls a “remarkable meeting” attended by Fuhrmann and Professor Helmuth Bott, whose remit as research and development director included motorsport. “Suddenly Dr Fuhrmann asked us about the new Group 6 rules for 1976,” remembers Singer. “He said, ‘You are always saying that you have a lot of 917 parts in stock, suspension and gearboxes. We have the engine [from the 935], so all we have to do is a new chassis frame and bodywork.’

“The suggestion caused a stir at a meeting called to discuss the new 935 being developed for Porsche’s return to motorsport as a factory entry in the World Championship of Makes,” adds Singer. “At first we didn’t understand why he was pushing for this new car, but in the end we understood that it was because a prototype would have a much better chance at Le Mans than a Group 5 car.”

Others present that day maintain that it was Bott who came up with the idea of the car. Among those is Manfred Jantke, Porsche sports boss at the time.

“It was definitely not a Fuhrmann project,” he insists. “If you had to pick one person as the architect of the 936 programme, it was Bott. It was quite an emotional thing for him. He loved prototypes and he considered only a mid-engined machine to be a real racing car.”

The identity of the father of the 936 will probably remain a mystery given that Fuhrmann and Bott are both dead, but what is clear is that the car was built in an amazingly short period, and in some secrecy. The aim was to surprise Renault, which would be back for a second year with its Alpine-built prototypes in 1976. So much so that some say there was even an attempt to keep the car secret from Dr Ferry Porsche.

That explains why the 936 was developed almost completely without the aid of wind-tunnel testing. “Fuhrmann didn’t want us to go to the tunnel,” says Singer. “He said, ‘You must do it by your experience.’ The only testing we did was when the car was finished and that was in the full-size Volkswagen tunnel.”

Porsche ended up with what Jantke describes as “a very conventional” design. “The 936 was certainly not the ultimate racing car of its time,” he says. “It was a good solid racing machine, a compromise car built on a low budget.”

Porsche 936 leading cars down the Le Mans straight

Barth, Haywood and Ickx produced perhaps the greatest Le Mans comeback ever on their way to victory in 1977

The ‘bitza’ was testing at Paul Ricard in late February, after a brief shakedown at Weissach. That’s not bad considering the project didn’t get underway until the previous December.

The first car ran in black, up to and including its race debut in the Nürburgring 300Km in April, though the Martini stickers for which the car is famous were in place. Some have claimed that this was all part of a plan to keep the car a secret. Jantke disputes this: “It was a development car, so it wasn’t unusual for it to run like that.”

The 936 didn’t win on its debut in the opening round of the new World Sportscar Championship: a sticking throttle ensured that Rolf Stommelen finished only fifth. Excluding a loss to two non-points scoring Can-Am cars at Mosport, it was the car’s only defeat during its WSC campaign, albeit against limited opposition. Most importantly, the 936 dominated the race it was built for – the Le Mans 24 Hours. Porsche new boy Jacky Ickx and Gijs van Lennep were ahead by the end of the first hour, and that’s where they stayed. Their lead stood at as much as 16 laps and the eventual margin of victory was 13 laps.

“Ickx had lost four kilos, such were his efforts”

Porsche returned to Le Mans in 1977 with an evolution of the car, featuring revised bodywork and twin turbos, known as the 936/77. Ickx was paired with fellow three-time Le Mans winner Henri Pescarolo, while Jürgen Barth shared with Hurley Haywood. The bad news for Porsche was the multi-million franc effort mounted by Renault, which had three factory Alpine A442s and one semi-works car on the grid.

Three hours into the race, Porsche looked out of it. The fastest of the German Group 6 contenders had just blown up, while the second entry was languishing down the order after a long stop at the start of the second hour. There was no way that the second-string crew of Le Mans new boy Haywood and Barth, whose day job was selling racing Porsches, were going to claw back the 28 minutes lost to the Renaults while the fuel-injection pump was changed.

They were counting without Ickx. He may have just seen Pescarolo trail into the pits after over-revving the Porsche’s engine, but he was still hungry for a third straight Le Mans victory. At 8.21pm, he eased himself into the second 936. Ickx’s greatest drive was about to begin.

Nearly three hours later, he emerged from the car with a new lap record and a place in the top six, eight laps behind the leading Alpine-Renault. He had also lost four kilos in body weight such were his efforts, but that didn’t stop him taking the car back from Haywood 90 minutes later.

When Ickx climbed out of the car for a second time after another double stint, the remaining Martini Porsche was up to third, the gap to the leader was down to six laps and Renault had suffered its first engine failure.

“As we put them under more and more pressure, they started to go faster and faster,” says Barth. “Then they broke down one by one and we moved into the lead.”

“Jacky was outstanding,” says Jantke, the man who had brought Ickx to Porsche the year before. “He was a guy who would do anything and everything to win and that day he went definitely over his physical limits: he looked 100 years old after the race. We talked about it again a couple of years ago. He said that he now realises it was the biggest thing he ever did.”

Like all good Le Mans tales, this one had a final twist. After being in the car for just a handful of laps, Haywood came back into the pits with 45 minutes to go, smoke billowing from the Porsche’s flat-six. The engine was effectively dead, but the 936 was so far ahead of the second-place Mirage that it needed only to take the flag to be declared the winner.

Number three cylinder was blanked off and Barth limped around for two laps to take an extraordinary – and unexpected – win. What is arguably the greatest comeback in Le Mans history was complete.

Porsche returned to Le Mans in 1978 with a three-car fleet of further-revised 936s, two of which used the new four-valve water-cooled heads already seen on the 935.

The chance of a 936 hat-trick appeared to have disappeared early on. Two of the three entries were in the pits at the end of the second lap. It set the tone for the rest of the race. All three cars hit problems, Barth, Bob Wollek and Ickx, who had again switched cars, scoring a best result of second, five laps behind the winning Renault.

Porsche 936 undergoing a pit stop at Le Mans

Ickx and Bell won the 1981 Le Mans 24 Hours after Porsche realised an outright win wasn’t on the cards with the 944

There were no plans to race the 936 at Le Mans in 1979. The focus was on the forthcoming Indycar engine to be used by Ted Field’s Interscope team. That was until David Thieme, the maverick boss of Essex Petroleum, decided he wanted to sponsor Porsche. The decision to go back to La Sarthe wasn’t made until April, which meant “using the parts we had,” says Singer. That proved crucial in a race that should have been a cakewalk for Porsche, given that Renault was now concentrating on Formula 1.

Instead, engine problems did for one, while Ickx was disqualified for receiving outside assistance after an injector belt had broken.

The Porsche 936 came close to another win in 1980, though the record books suggest the Joest Racing car driven by an on-loan Ickx and Reinhold Joest was a 908/80. In reality it was nothing but a 936 – one built by the factory.

Joest, not for the last time in his career, used his connections within Porsche to get hold of a car some sections of the company didn’t want to see racing. The veteran team owner reckons that Fuhrmann was trying to persuade him to trade in his 908/3.

“He wanted back the 908/3 and to give me a 935,” recalls Joest. “I was not interested, so I spoke with Mr Bott, who liked prototypes. We came up with the idea to build a chassis frame, which was called a new 908/3, but in reality it was 100 per cent 936.”

Joest, who had persuaded Porsche to loan him Ickx for the weekend, should have won. Even the need to change an injector drive belt on Saturday night didn’t appear to have irrevocably damaged their bid for victory.

The 908/80 had come back from sixth into the lead when fifth gear broke, allowing Jean Rondeau to famously become the first man to win the race in a car bearing its driver’s name.

“When I’m asked what it is my favourite Porsche, I always go for the 936” Hurley Haywood

The desire of a Porsche director to win Le Mans resulted in one final hurrah for the 936 as a factory entry. American Peter Schutz had come in as head of the board and asked a similar question to Fuhrmann all those years before.

“We were running through our programmes for the following year [1981] and we told Schutz about our plans with the 944,” recalls Singer. “His question was whether it was possible to win overall with that car. We had to tell him no, at which point he said, ‘What can we do to win overall?’ The only thing we had was the 936.

“The capacity limit for turbocharged engines had been opened up, which allowed us to use the engine developed for the [stillborn] Interscope Indycar. We knew that engine was reliable because in that kind of racing at the time you had to run a long time at full throttle. All we had to do was convert the engine back from methanol to petrol.”

The 1981 race also marked the restart of Derek Bell’s association with Porsche. A 917 driver in a JW Automotive entry in 1971, he returned to the factory in 1980 at the wheel of a 924 Carrera. He didn’t want to drive the car again, so he signed up to race Steve O’ Rourke’s EMKA BMW M1 for 1981. Then came a chance meeting with Porsche engine boss Valentin Schäffer at Monza. “He asked me what I was doing at Le Mans,” remembers Bell. “When I told him, he said, ‘Pity, because we wanted you to drive one of our 936s.’ That night Steve said he would be flattered to let me go to Porsche. I phoned Jantke on the Monday and said I was available. I’ll never forget his reply: ‘Good, now we have the best two sports car drivers in the world. You will drive with Jacky.’ ”

The story of Bell’s subsequent victory with Ickx in the Jules-sponsored 936 is another legendary Le Mans tale. “I’d never sat in it before practice and virtually first time out I set the fastest time I’d ever done around the place,” says Bell. “I thought, ‘What a car’, and, of course, we stormed off and won the race.”

Le Mans 1981 turned out to be the “start of the rest of my career” for Bell because the success that weekend resulted in the decision to build the 956 for the forthcoming Group C formula. “The decision to go Group C was only made after Le Mans,” says Singer. “We realised after winning that we had a powerful and reliable engine and that played a part in the decision.”

Related article

The career of the 936 didn’t finish in 1981. Joest continued to field 908/80 in German DRM events into 1982. He even built a long-wheelbase Group C version to run in the world championship. This coupé, known as the 936CJ, last raced at Le Mans as late as 1986. There was also a Kremer-built 936 that also did service in the DRM.

The factory’s successes with the 936 were achieved with just three chassis. That’s one reason, thinks Singer, that the car is sometimes overlooked. “There were never any customer cars,” he says. “We had to make 25 917s for the homologation, so they raced everywhere, and we built more than 100 956s and 962s.”

There is one person who rates the 936 as his favourite. “The 936 isn’t overlooked by me,” says Haywood, who would also win Le Mans in the 956 and the Dauer 962GT. “When I am asked what is my favourite Porsche, I always go for the 936. That car, especially with the Indy engine, was fabulous to drive: a real sweetheart.”

Special Issue Contents Archive - Motor Sport Magazine

Porsche’s winning formula: lightness, reliability and relentless development

Porsche Carrera RSR

Career 1973-87
Major wins Daytona 1973, ’75 & ’77; Sebring ’73, ’76 & ’77; Targa Florio ’73; World Championship 4; IMSA 37
Drivers Hurley Haywood, Peter Gregg, Mark Donohue, Herbert Müller, Gijs van Lennep, Leo Kinnunen, Claude Ballot-Lena, John Fitzpatrick
Chassis Steel unitary (GRP Aero Aids)
Engine 2.8 to 3.0-litre flat-six, normally aspirated

Daytona 1973 provided a taste of what was to come over the next quarter of a century, though no one realised it at the time. The young Norbert Singer, just a couple of years into his Porsche career, had been given his first project to manage towards the end of ’72. The 911 Carrera RSR made its first appearance in November, on the Rally of Corsica, and less than two months later it was given a debut win in the American 24-hour classic.

“The car was just four months old when we went to Daytona and we had this amazing success straight away,” recalls Singer of the victory for Hurley Haywood and Peter Gregg in the works-backed Brumos-entered car. “It quickly turned into a successful year for us.”

Seven weeks later the Brumos car had won at Sebring too, and before the season was out a factory entry would notch up victory in another classic, the Targa Florio. As well as that, a privately-entered car would win the European Championship for Grand Touring Cars.

The first in a long line of off-the-peg 911 GT racers had somehow taken up where the 917 had left off, although that was not how the project was conceived: the factory viewed the RSR only as a means of maintaining a motorsport presence after the 917 Can-Am project ran its course at the end of 1973.

“It was clear Porsche could not afford a big racing programme anymore,” explains Singer. “Dr Ernst Fuhrmann had taken over as the head of the company from Dr Ferdinand Piëch and wanted to stay in racing, but at the lower level. The idea was to produce a GT car and offer it to customers.”

“It was a lovely machine and wasn’t as tail happy as some of the GT Porsches I had driven before. By the time I won the FIA Championship for Grand Touring cars in 1974 it was a very stable car and incredibly reliable. I stuck with the RSR through into ’75 and it got better and better every year.”
John Fitzpatrick

The first step was to build a homologation special in sufficient numbers to allow entry into the Group 3 category. Weight reduction was the key because the car would race at its homologated weight, and the result was the lightweight Carrera RS, the first 911 to wear the famous duck-tail rear wing.

The RS was only the starting point, however. Singer and his team now had to turn a hot road car into a true racer and, specifically, adapt the car to run on coil springs rather than the 911’s then-standard torsion bars.

“Clearly coils made more sense for racing,” explains Singer. “Not only could the springs be changed more quickly, but we were at the limit of stiffness with torsion bars. The rules allowed us to do this, but we had to make the chassis more rigid to accept the additional loads.”

Evidence that the job had been done well came at Daytona. There may have been only a small number of prototypes present, but the two Carrera RSRs dominated much of the race. The Penske car was leading when a flywheel problem put it out on Sunday morning, which left the way clear for Haywood and Gregg.

“Daytona was an amazing success really,” says Singer. “Don’t forget the car was only four months old.”


Porsche 935 Martini Racing car viewed from the rear

Porsche 935

Career 1976-86
Major wins Le Mans 1979; Daytona ’78-’83; Sebring ’78-’82, ’84; World Championship 35; IMSA 66.
Drivers Jacky Ickx, Bob Wollek, Danny Ongais, Bob Garretson, Brian Redman, John Fitzpatrick, AJ Foyt, Stefan Johansson, Bobby Rahal, John Paul
Chassis Unitary body with grp floor/aluminium semi-space-frame
Engine 2.85 to 3.2-litre flat-six turbocharged (twin for some K3S)

The Carrera RSR may have been a winner first time out, but that didn’t satisfy the inquiring minds at Weissach. Within months a more developed version of the car was being pitched against Matra and Ferrari prototypes and, within a year, there were even bigger developments. When Norbert Singer and Porsche added a turbo they were sowing the seeds for the next big project — the 935 Group 5 racer.

“We were aware that new rules based around production cars were coming to replace the 3-litre prototype formula,” says Singer. “The GT rules limited development because, more or less, you could only run what you had homologated. Then we came up with the plan to run the car in the prototype class. That gave us the freedom to try things for the future.”

Porsche 935 race cars in the workshop with Martini livery

The first step was a bigger rear wing, the so-called ‘whale-tail’ and suspension modifications. It was in this specification that the Carrera RSR claimed a shock Targa Florio victory courtesy of Gijs van Lennep and Herbert Müller in ’73.

The same pairing took an even more surprising second overall at Le Mans a year later. “For 1974 we made a new car with a turbo engine,” says Singer. “It was built like a prototype, but was still based on the 911.”

The first 935, designed to the new-for-1976 Group 5 silhouette formula, clearly built on the experiences of the RSR. Porsche pipped BMW to the World Championship of Makes title in the first year of the new category, and there began a cycle of development leading to more and more extreme 935s.

“It was a good car, or I should say a very powerful car that didn’t have such great handling. I’m not sure anyone loved it as a race car because it had a lot of turbo lag and a four-speed gearbox. That changed when ‘Moby Dick’ came along. It was like a prototype in comparison to what we had before.”
Jochen Mass

“The first version looks like a modified 911, but the 935/77 was a step further,” says Singer. “Not only were we gaining experience year by year, we were also learning what we could do under the regulations.” The last factory Group 5 Porsche, the 935/78 (or ‘Moby Dick’), was “almost a prototype”, according to Singer. “The front bulkhead and the rear end were 911, but in-between it was like a space-frame chassis.”

Porsche wrapped up a third straight WCM title with the ‘Moby Dick’, although the big prize at Le Mans eluded the car. The 935 was beaten to overall honours in the 24 Hours in 1976 and ’77 by the 936 prototype developed under the stewardship of Helmut Flegl, and then by mega-buck Alpine-Renaults in ’78.

The 935 did go on to take glory at Le Mans, of course. By 1979 Singer was on the 936, but a further development of his Group 5 racer, Kremer’s K3, claimed victory after the Porsche prototypes hit engine problems in the race.

The 935’s contemporary racing career had yet to reach the halfway mark — the car would still be winning important races as late as 1984.


Norbert Singer standing beside a Porsche 962

Porsche 956/962

Career 1982-98
Major wins Le Mans 1982-’87; Daytona ’85-’87, ’89, ’91, ’95; Sebring ’85-’88; World Championship 39; IMSA 55
Drivers Jacky Ickx, Stefan Bellof, Al Holbert, Mario Andretti, Klaus Ludwig, Henri Pescarolo, Ayrton Senna
Chassis Aluminium monocoque
Engine 2.65 to 3.2-litre flat-six turbocharged

It must count as the most difficult task of Norbert Singer’s career. Once he’d caught up on his sleep after overseeing victory in the 1981 Le Mans 24 Hours with the 936/81, he had to begin work on the successor to a car that had won the big one three times in five attempts. The result of six months’ hard work turned out to be the greatest sports car of them all — the 956/962.

Not that Singer felt he had a monkey on his back when it came to building a car to the new Group C fuel-formula regulations. “When you’ve just won Le Mans your motivation is very high,” he says. “The car was all new apart from the engine, which we had tried out in the 936/81, but we knew what we had to do and we knew we had more tools to achieve it.”

The 956 would become the first Porsche with an aluminium monocoque chassis and the first to run ground-effect aero: Singer and his team were on a steep learning curve.

“The 956 and the 962 were such amazing cars that we took them all for granted. You got in one knowing it wouldn’t break and expecting to get a good result. I can hardly remember one ever letting me down. It did everything so well and was such a driveable racing car. It was a big part of my life.”
Derek Bell

“We heard some crazy numbers from Formula 1 about the downforce you could get with ground effects, so we wanted to see what we could achieve,” he remembers. “We weren’t allowed to run skirts, but we tried them to see what would happen. We expected to get more downforce, but instead we got less. We realised that we needed to take air under the car from the sides.”

Porsche’s 1982 programme was centred on Le Mans. After second place on the car’s debut in May’s Silverstone 1000Km, the Rothmans-backed works squad turned up at the Circuit de la Sarthe with a three-car team and promptly walked away with a clean sweep of the podium. Not surprisingly, Singer rates it as the sweetest of the six straight victories for the 956 and the longer-wheelbase 962 in the 1980s: “It is my favourite not only because it was the first, but also because it was a surprise. We had done just two endurance tests. To finish 1-2-3 was pretty remarkable.”

That run of victories at Le Mans isn’t the only reason why the 956/962 has a special place in both the history books and the hearts of a generation of sportscar drivers, team managers and fans.

Rothmans Porsche 956 endurance racer with raised rear wing

Porsche’s Group C design was the ultimate customer sports car, a car any driver could handle and any team could run. If you were good enough you could win races, even against the might of the factory team.

Joest Racing proved this the first time privateer cars went up against the factory, at Monza in 1983. It would prove it again and again, most famously at Le Mans in ’85.

Customers were still winning a decade later: Joest triumphed in the Daytona 24 Hours in 1991 and Kremer did likewise with its open-top version of the 962 in ’95.

The car’s career still wasn’t finished and it was still competing into the late 1990s, notching up a final tally of race victories in excess of 250 in all competitions. A worthy successor to the 936 after all.


Porsche 962 Dauer FAT Turbo Express on track

Dauer 962 Le Mans Porsche

Career 1994
Major wins Le Mans 1994
Drivers Yannick Dalmas, Hurley Haywood, Mauro Baldi, Hans Stuck, Thierry Boutsen, Danny Sullivan
Chassis Aluminium monocoque
Engine 3.0-litre flat-six turbocharged

Depending on who you talk to, Porsche missed out on class victory on the return of GT cars to the Le Mans 24 Hours in 1993: the 911 Turbo S LM had been leading comfortably when it was rear-ended by a slower car and Jaguar’s XJ220C came through to win on the road.

It didn’t matter that a normally aspirated 911 RSR was eventually credited with GT honours after the best of the TWR Jags was excluded. Porsche knew that it needed a new car if it was to be at the forefront of the revived class, especially after an advance party from McLaren Cars turned up at the event that year.

“To us it was clear that there would be a McLaren F1 on the grid in 1994,” says Singer. “We were asked by Horst Marchart (the board member in charge of motorsport) how we were going to beat that car and I remembered that I had run into Jochen Dauer at the Frankfurt Motor Show a few weeks before.”

“It wasn’t an easy car to drive at all. The lack of downforce and the narrow tyres made it very tricky compared with a Group C 962. We only won Le Mans because we got lucky, but the car was still fast and very reliable. It was amazing really given that the car had been done in such a short space of time.”
Mauro Baldi

Sometime Group C privateer Dauer had exhibited a 962-based supercar and had asked Singer for help in homologating his creation for the road. “That’s how we came up with the plan to homologate the Dauer car for the road, then build a GT version.”

The result of this plan was the awkwardly-named Dauer 962 Le Mans Porsche, a car that was much more than a Group C racer with number-plates. “It was not the work of a moment, even after we had turned it into a road car,” remembers Singer of the project. “The car was required to have a flat bottom and we had to adapt it to run on much narrower tyres.”

These constraints ensured that Porsche didn’t go to Le Mans with overall victory in mind. Group C cars, albeit in modified form, were eligible for one last year and a pair of factory-blessed Toyotas and two Porsche-engined Courages went in as favourites.

“We went there trying to win the class,” explains Singer. “The prototypes were clearly much faster than us and we only won because of their bad fortune.”

Lady Luck smiled on Porsche in the closing stages when the leading Toyota hit gear-selection problems. The best of the Dauer Porsches, driven by Yannick Dalmas, Mauro Baldi and Hurley Haywood, proved to be in the right place at the right time and came through to score an unlikely victory.

The Dauer Porsche turned out to be a one-race special. Even before June 1994 Porsche had been told by Le Mans rules boss Alain Bertaut that the car wouldn’t be welcomed back. “He said our car was to the letter of the rules, but it was outside the spirit,” says Singer. “He made it clear that he would stop us coming back in the future. There was never any plan to continue with that car after 1994.”

The Dauer Porsches were wheeled off to the museum, but not before they had given an almost eternal Porsche design a remarkable eighth victory at Le Mans.


Porsche 911 GT1 endurance racer inside a garage

Porsche 911 GT1

Career 1996-2003
Major wins Le Mans 1998 (GT1-98); Global Endurance 3
Drivers Thierry Boutsen, Emmanuel Collard, Danny Sullivan, Jörg Müller, Allan McNish, Laurent Aïello, Stéphane Ortelli, Bob Wollek, Hans Stuck
Chassis Steel unitary/spaceframe carbon monocoque (GT1-98)
Engine 3.2-litre flat-six turbocharged

The McLaren F1 may have appeared a year late according to Porsche’s predictions, but when it did arrive in 1995 it picked up the goalposts and ran with them in the brave new world of the Global Endurance GT Series. Not only did it dominate the burgeoning championship, the F1 GTR racer even picked up a surprise win in the Le Mans 24 Hours.

Porsche wanted a slice of the action, but the experience with a beefed-up GT1 version of its new 911 GT2 during 1995 led to the realisation that a rear-engined car was never going to beat Gordon Murray’s creation. “We did what we always wanted to do with the 935 — turn the engine around,” remembers Singer. “It was obvious that if we were going to beat the McLaren we needed a mid-engined car.”

“It was a compromise because the front end was a regular 911 front end with a racing rear end bolted on the back. I always believed that the car lacked rigidity. I have to say that it was always fun to drive and there is no doubt that the car was capable of winning Le Mans in both years. Not a classic, but not bad.”
Hans Stuck

The 911 GT1 also gave Porsche the chance to go for victory at Le Mans: “The original idea was to do a car to win GT, but it became clear that the organisers wanted equality between the prototypes and the GT1 cars. That was good news for us because building a GT made more commercial sense for Porsche.”

The twin constraints of the marketing men and the need for type-approval resulted in the car mating the front end of a 911 with a racing rear end. “The car had to be as close as possible to the 911,” explains Singer. “It was quite easy to use the front part of the standard car and all the safety features, which was important for the road homologation. I would say that the car was 80 per cent 911 from the front of the car to just behind the driver.”

The use of the standard 911 gave Singer and his design team a problem: “The 911 has MacPherson struts, but we clearly needed double wishbones. The lack of space meant we had a short upper A-arm.”

The result was a car with a natural tendency to understeer, though that didn’t stop it trouncing the McLarens in three end-of-season appearances in the ’96 Global series. A revised car, the so-called GT1 Evo, addressed this problem and had the pace to beat Joest’s WSC95 at Le Mans in 1997, but for an oil leak with 90 minutes to go. Porsche’s attempts to win Le Mans with a 911-derived car had failed, though an all-new carbon-chassis contender bearing the GT1 monicker would put the record straight a year later.

This 911 GT1-98 was designed in conjunction with Dutchman Wiet Huidekoper and its monocoque built by an outside supplier in Britain, leading to the suggestion that Porsche’s most recent Le Mans winner was not a Singer car. That’s not strictly true, because the veteran still headed up the project in his capacity as the general manager and chief motorsport engineer at Weissach. The 1998 win for Allan McNish, Laurent Aïello and Stéphane Ortelli was victory number 11 for a ‘Singer car’ at Le Mans. And that’s not counting Kremer’s 935 win in ’79.


Porsche 962 FAT Turbo Express racing at speed

WSC95

Career 1995-’98
Major wins Le Mans 1996, ’97
Drivers Mario Andretti, Geoff Brabham, Manuel Reuter, Davy Jones, Tom Kristensen, Stefan Johansson, Michele Alboreto, Yannick Dalmas
Chassis Carbon-composite monocoque
Engine 3.0 to 3.2-litre flat-six turbocharged

Think of the WSC95 and the names TWR and Joest spring to mind long before Porsche. The heritage of a car that was based around Jaguar’s title-winning XJR-14 is clear to see and its record in the hands of Reinhold Joest’s team has left an indelible mark in the history books. Yet the factory’s role in its back-to-back success at Le Mans has been overlooked.

The WSC95 prototype programme was abandoned in the run-up to the car’s debut in the 1995 Daytona 24 Hours when it was handed a brace of performance penalties. The two chassis were sent back to Europe from TWR’s US base and a trip into the wind tunnel at Porsche’s Weissach development facility gave Singer the explanation to the strangest of problems encountered on the first test of the car.

“It was a fantastic race car; I’d go as far as saying it was one of the greats. It was more or less perfect in every way and the package was just right for Le Mans. It had a great engine and gearbox and a lot of downforce, which made it very easy to drive. And it never seemed to go wrong.”
Stefan Johansson

“Scott Goodyear came on the radio at Charlotte as he passed the pits and said, ‘Look what I can do’,” remembers Singer. “He was turning the steering wheel on the straight and nothing was happening. When we put the car in the wind tunnel we found it had lift on the front.”

When Joest managed to persuade his friends on the Porsche board to loan him the cars for the Le Mans 24 Hours, Singer began a much-needed programme of aerodynamic development. The front end was reworked and the WSC95 became a car capable of winning Le Mans. The only problem was that Manuel Reuter, Davy Jones and Alex Wurz beat the works team’s pair of brand-new 911 GT1s to the chequered flag.

There was little to choose between the two cars in terms of pace, but the WSC95 had a near faultless run. Singer’s GT1s, meanwhile, had a series of minor niggles that left the best of the works-run cars one lap down. The result meant mixed emotions for Singer: “Straight after the race it was disappointing, but after a night’s sleep we all realised that one of our cars had still won.”

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Gallery: 1971 Porsche 911 RSR Turbo
Opinion
Car Culture

Gallery: 1971 Porsche 911 RSR Turbo

First turbo to compete at Le Mans 24 Hours to be auctioned at Amelia Island Photos courtesy of Gooding & Company, Brian Henniker This 1974 Porsche 911 Carrera RSR 2.1…

By Samarth Kanal

Joest only had the cars on loan, but his deal with Porsche allowed him to keep one if he happened to win the race. No one stipulated that it had to be parked in his museum and the car duly turned up, without Porsche’s blessing, to fight against the factory 12 months later. This time Singer’s team had the edge on speed, but not reliability. Joest’s WSC95, chassis 001, took a second straight victory just as his 956 had done a dozen years before, this time with Michele Alboreto, Stefan Johansson and Le Mans debutant Tom Kristensen driving.

The WSC95 was brought back under the factory umbrella for 1998 and reworked for a second time to take part in a twin-pronged attack on Le Mans in the company’s 50th year. This time Porsche’s latest GT turned the tables on the open car, though Singer reckons it could have been different: “The cars had the speed to win again, especially when you consider that our 911 GT1-98s each spent half an hour in the pits. All the good luck they’d had in the previous two years was repaid.”

Special Issue Contents Archive - Motor Sport Magazine

Porsche’s winning formula: lightness, reliability and relentless development

The earliest use I can find in print of the expression “Racing improves the breed” dates from 1835. It refers, of course, to racehorses: breeding from winners could produce more winners. The first time it was applied to cars seems to have been in 1908: “Just as horse racing improves the breed of horses, so do automobile races improve the quality and construction of (everyday) motor cars.” Le Mans certainly made this true of the 1920s Bentleys, for example, and in the 1950s it hastened Jaguar’s disc brakes and Mercedes’ fuel injection.

Today the cliché is trotted out more than ever, but it is far less true. Road car development can be more rapidly and cost-effectively achieved behind locked doors, away from the prying eyes of competitors and the public, and motor racing has taken on the more disparate role of marketing the brand. Today it’s “Win on Sunday, sell on Monday.”

But for a handful of car manufacturers through the 1970s and into the ’80s, motor racing was a major driver of technical development. Marketable fame was secondary. There is no better example of this than Porsche, and no better proponent of it than Norbert Singer, who spent more than 40 years developing and directing racing Porsches. His involvement spanned an extraordinary 16 Le Mans victories in 29 seasons.

Norbert is 75 now, and lives not far from Zuffenhausen, the northern suburb of Stuttgart that is home to Porsche. He has not quite retired: poacher turned gamekeeper, he is a consultant to the Le Mans 24 Hours organisers. I meet him at his favourite Strohgäu restaurant in Münchingen for veal cordon bleu and crêpes suzettes: a friendly, good-humoured man, but modest. He tells his tales as from a team, not an individual.

Norbert’s original ambition was to be a rocket scientist, but during his university engineering course he found he had the wrong passport. Americans build spaceships, he was told; Germans build cars. But cars, and particularly racing, also fascinated him.

“In 1965 a friend of mine and I got ourselves to the Nürburgring Nordschleife to watch Jim Clark’s Lotus 33 win the German Grand Prix. But on that circuit you only saw the cars pass 15 times, and I knew that at Monaco they did 100 laps. So in 1967 we drove my old Opel Kadett all the way there. By dawn we’d made sure of our place by the track, and it was fantastic. But that was the year poor Lorenzo Bandini lost his life, and after that the race was cut to 80 laps.

“After university I planned to join Opel, because they offered new engineers two years with General Motors in Detroit. But when I heard that Porsche was looking for a youngster in its racing department, I applied. My father was horrified: ‘Porsche? A small company like that? Borgward is gone, Glas is gone, BMW is in trouble. How long can Porsche last?’

“Derek was doing 200mph when a man on a bicycle wobbled across the straight”

“After my interview with Porsche in February 1970 they said they would write to me. But I heard nothing. On Monday March 2 they phoned: ‘Why are you late for your first day at work?’ They had forgotten to send the letter. I rushed to Stuttgart and found digs, and on Tuesday morning I was in the little racing department. It was 14 weeks to go to Le Mans. I was the new boy, and at once I was told to rethink the fuel system. The Porsche had a long, narrow tank, and everything sloshed back and forth under acceleration and braking, requiring several heavy suction pumps. I made up different baffles and reduced the pumps.

“The 917’s real weak point was the gearbox, which had no oil radiator and had to be cooled by the air spilling around it. As the ambient temperature went back up on Sunday morning the oil would overheat. Make it run cooler, they said, but don’t add any weight.

Jo Siffert and Derek Bell race a Porsche 917 in 1971

The 917 took huge development after early teething issues made the car unstable

“Space around the gearbox was tight because of all the chassis tubes, but I designed some larger ducting. There was nobody to make the moulds, so I made them myself with modelling clay I pinched from the styling studio. Then I went with Hans Herrmann to the Nürburgring to test the changes, and it was fine. That was a few weeks after I joined: you could say I had to jump into the deep end of the swimming pool. I wasn’t asked to go to the 24 Hours, but Hans won it with Richard Attwood, so I felt I had played my own little part in Porsche’s maiden Le Mans victory.

“The first time I was actually in charge at a race was the following year, in Austria. Porsche made its own brakes then, and our technical boss Helmuth Bott wanted us to use an ABS system we’d come up with. We tested it a lot and it worked more or less, but with so many mechanical parts it was never going to be right. Today ABS is all electronic, so it’s completely different. In Austria we ran it in one car, and Gérard Larrousse confessed to me afterwards that he turned it off before the end of lap one.

“More or less by accident, I started to make a speciality of aerodynamics. As a young engineer in a small department you have to be able to do lots of things. I was given the old riddle: reduce the drag without reducing the downforce.

Porsche 917 racing at Le Mans in 1971

Not known for its success, the ‘Pink Pig’ 917 has become a legend for its distinctive design

“In 1969 the long-tail 917 for Le Mans was very twitchy at its highest speeds, so I had to find less drag, more downforce, better balance. Porsche didn’t have its own wind tunnel then, so I used the tunnel at Stuttgart University. I was free to try anything I wanted, and many of my ideas didn’t work, but we learned a lot. Finding speed through aerodynamics is all about changing little details: big steps are more difficult.

“After three or four days of hard work I had improved the drag and stability without losing downforce – we didn’t have a lot of downforce then, of course – and I’d added little tail fins. The key was the Mulsanne kink. In those pre-chicane days, if your drivers could take the kink flat, you had done your job. At the April test weekend Derek said it was now flat for him and Jo Siffert. I asked what revs he was pulling, and he said 8100rpm. I did some slide rule calculations with allowance for tyre growth, and when Derek insisted I told him, I had to say: 396kph. That’s 246mph.

“Ferdinand Piëch’s idea with the 917 was to run with two teams, JW Automotive and Porsche Salzburg, to double the chance of victory. John Wyer had been developing his own bodywork too, and Derek and I spent a dark, wet day at Hockenheim comparing three tails: JW’s, ours and the short one as a baseline. We used a speed trap on the long return straight, missing out the infield, and our tail was fastest. It was getting dark as we did the last runs, and Derek was doing nearly 200mph when a man on a bicycle came wobbling across the main straight, obviously taking his daily short-cut home from work. Derek got just a flash of his horror-struck face as he missed him by inches.

“We also did some aerodynamic work with the French firm, SERA. The challenge was to find a shape with the drag of a long tail and the downforce of a short tail. They made all the bodywork curves of bigger radius, which was good in theory, to keep the vortices down. But although the downforce was OK the drag was worse. The car had a bloated look, and somebody said it was like a pig. So Tony Lapine, our styling boss, had it painted pink with dotted lines and names of pork joints across it like a butcher’s diagram. I don’t know what Dr Piëch thought about it. It retired from its only race, but today it probably attracts more photos in the Porsche museum than any other car.

Norbert Singer studies a Porsche 956 model in a wind tunnel

Windtunnel testing became a bigger thing with Group C designs like the 956

“We won Le Mans again in 1971, but for 1972 the sports car rules changed, and for the 3-litre limit against the Ferraris and Matras the 908 engine was not powerful enough. The American market was becoming important for Porsche, and Jo Siffert told us about the Can-Am races he’d done in his own 917 Spyder. To take on the McLarens we clearly needed a bigger engine, so we made a flat-16 from two 908 engines. It was unbelievably heavy: the bare crankshaft weighed 33 kilos. Then somebody suggested turbocharging. Turbos had been used in aircraft and ships and other applications but, apart from some unsuccessful American compacts in the 1960s, not much on cars. We worked with a turbo flat-12, which was much lighter than the 16. My brief was: find as much downforce as you can, and don’t worry about drag, because we have a lot of power and the American tracks are twisty.

Norbert Singer and Walter Näher discuss Porsche at Le Mans

With race engineer and author Walter Näher at Le Mans in 1986

“Roger Penske ran our car, and that first year the 917/10 had no problems with the corners, but the McLarens still had too much power on the straights. So the engine guys reduced the turbo lag and increased the horsepower, to more than 1000bhp. The rear tyres were 19 inches wide. Once again my task was keep the downforce but reduce the drag, and we adapted my Le Mans tail. Mark Donohue easily won the championship, so the McLaren reign was over.”

Porsche 935 driven by Stommelen and Schurti in 1978

Moby Dick, the legendary 935 prototype

Norbert was sent to the Daytona 24 Hours in 1973 because two teams were running the 911 which had been developed into a serious racing car, the RSR. “The cars were run by Penske and Brumos. I was introduced as the factory engineer. The Penske boys were not impressed, but Peter Gregg of Brumos seemed to take note of my suggestions. In the race all the prototypes retired, and the battle between the two RSRs became the battle for the lead. Then the Penske car lost its flywheel. Now the Brumos car was on its own, but Gregg was still driving flat out. Bob Snodgrass of Brumos got on the radio to tell him to ease up, but he took no notice. Then Bob hung out a board that read ‘SINGER SAYS SLOW’. Gregg lifted off at once, and he and Hurley Haywood still won by 22 laps.

“Somebody said the car looked like a whale, so it was Moby Dick from then on”

“The last Targa Florio was the same year, and we ran the RSR as a prototype so that we could try more modifications. We put 917 brakes on it and a larger spoiler that we called the Mary Stewart, because big pieces came around the sides rather like the neck on the dress of your Mary Queen of Scots. The prototypes from Ferrari and Alfa all had problems, and Herbie Müller and Gijs van Lennep in our lead car won. It was Porsche’s 11th win in the Targa since Maglioli and von Hanstein in 1956.”

Norbert Singer examines a Porsche 956 model in 1982

L-R: Singer explains an aero concept to CEO Peter Schutz (dark suit)

By 1976 the road-going 911 turbo was in production – the best example yet of racing improving the breed – and the FIA’s new Group 5 had come in. “That was our best season so far. We ran the 911-shaped 935 in the World Championship of Makes and, when the FIA decided late in the day to institute a Group 6 World Sports Car series as well, we quickly came up with the 936. We won both titles: and our third Le Mans.

“But we were unlucky at Daytona – that’s a race I should tell you about. The 935 of Jacky Ickx and Jochen Mass was leading easily when Jochen had a blow-out on the banking and hit the wall. The right side of the car was smashed, the door was torn off, and it took us an hour to repair the oil cooler, the wastegate and other bits. When we sent him back out with no door, the race officials said we could not race like that. So we borrowed one from a privateer 935 that had retired and slapped that on. Then they said we needed a red rear light. We taped on a pocket torch and smeared the bulb with lipstick borrowed from a girl. The car rejoined in 42nd place, 22 laps down, and Jacky and Jochen went hard at it all night. When the sun came up we were back up to second place, and we were going to win. Then Jochen had another disastrous blow-out on the banking, and this time he could not bring the car home. A private RSR won.”

Norbert has stories from every season, almost from every race. In his lexicon the world championship titles are important, of course, but the actual race wins matter more, and the Le Mans victories matter most of all. The 936 was victorious again in 1977, back-to-back wins for Jacky Ickx, and that year the DRM, the German Championship, had a new contender. “Each DRM round consisted of two separate races, up to and over two litres. We had the over 2-litre races all sewn up, but the under 2-litre class attracted much more interest because it was a big battle between BMW and Ford. So the big boss, Dr Fuhrmann at that time, said, ‘We must do that class too. Make a baby Porsche.’

Jacky Ickx and Derek Bell race a Porsche 936 at Le Mans

Ickx and Bell on their way to 1981 Le Mans victory in the 936/81, which was a museum piece prior to the race

“To hit the 1.4 equivalency formula we put together a 1425cc turbo that gave 370bhp, and we built a very light 935 for it. In fact we made it too light, and had to fill some of the chassis tubes with lead to get it up to the limit. It was all done too quickly, and in the first race at the Norisring, in front of 80,000 spectators, the car was slow and Jacky Ickx retired. We decided to do a detailed rethink and miss the next round at Hockenheim. But Dr Fuhrmann wouldn’t hear of it: ‘I don’t care. We go racing.’ So we worked night and day, and we just got to Hockenheim. Jacky took pole by 2.8sec and won by almost a minute. I sent a message to Dr Fuhrmann suggesting I should get a pay rise for this. He said, ‘No, I get the pay rise, because I insisted you go to Hockenheim’.”

The ultimate 935 was the ferociously long, low 935-78. “We got nearly 800bhp out of that. It was the first time we’d used water as a cooling medium. We’d had some head gasket failures, so we welded the heads to the block and just cooled the heads via a water radiator. The rear wheels were 19-inch diameter, 16-inch rims, and the car was 6½ feet wide. When it was in grey primer, before it got its Martini colours, somebody said it looked like a whale, so it was Moby Dick from then on. We only raced it four times, winning first time out at Silverstone by seven laps. At Le Mans, despite its big 911-shape shell, it did 227mph on the Mulsanne. The timekeepers’ lists said only the Renault sports-prototype with its streamlined cockpit canopy was faster, by 1kph, and I expect that figure was political. We were in France, after all. But Moby Dick drank fuel. We were allowed 120 litres tankage, and we could only run 40 minutes between stops. Just as the mechanics finished clearing up the pit, the car would be coming in again – all through the day and night.”

Ickx’s 1977 Le Mans win deserves a special mention over our lunch table. “Our lead 936, Jacky Ickx/Henri Pescarolo, went out when a conrod broke. The No2 car had already retired, and the No3 car seemed totally out of it, having lost nearly an hour in the pits with a blown head gasket and fuel injection problems. It was now in 41st place. So on Saturday evening we put Jacky in. He spent nearly 11 of the remaining 19 hours in that car, including 6½ through the night. He broke the lap record again and again, and by 10am on Sunday he was in the lead.” During that drive, which Jacky said years later was the hardest of his life, he lost more than a stone in body weight.

Porsche 962 races at Le Mans in 1987

Singer oversaw the development of a host of sports racing classics, and even an Indycar project

“Then we stood Jacky down, and the car’s original drivers, Jürgen Barth and Hurley Haywood, took over to drive to the end. We now had a huge lead: but the story wasn’t over yet. In the final hour it came in wreathed in white smoke: blown piston! We took the fuel and spark out of that cylinder, and held the car in the pits waiting for the end of the race. The rules say that the lap time of each of the last two laps has to be within a given percentage of the other, so at 3.52pm we sent Barth chugging out again. We taped a watch to the steering wheel so he could ensure his two laps were roughly constant, and also to avoid crossing the line just before 4pm, which would have committed him to another lap. It all worked out, and that was our fourth Le Mans win.

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“Part of our routine at Le Mans was Teloché, the little village south of the circuit, where Porsche always had its race headquarters. We took over the local garage for a week to prepare the cars. All of us (except the drivers) stayed in villagers’ houses, each mechanic going back to the same family every year, and we ate at a long table in the local bar. On Saturday morning we would drive the race cars along the D140 public road to Mulsanne, and then onto the circuit and up to the pits. That was the normal procedure.

“But one year, with the 956s, we were a little late. When we got to the circuit entrance at Mulsanne Corner there was a young policeman who said, ‘No, you cannot pass’. He could see our cars were race cars, but he could only think of his orders. So we had to divert around local roads, getting stuck in the spectators’ traffic jams. When we finally got to the paddock the engineers said, ‘We have very high temperatures here. This is not what we want before a 24-hour race.’ After that we worked out of a big tent in the paddock.

“In 1979 Ickx stopped on the Mulsanne Straight during the night when a fuel injection pump belt came off. We always put a temporary spare in the car, to get the car back to the pits, but in the dark Jacky couldn’t see to put it on right and when he started the engine it flew off and disappeared. We sent a mechanic out to him with another belt, but when he got there he found he was on the wrong side of the track, so he threw the belt across the road. Jacky picked it up and fitted it, and got back to the pits; we did the job properly and sent him out again. But of course this had all been reported to race director Alain Bertaut. He summoned me: ‘We know you took a spare part out to your car.’ I said, ‘Sorry, I don’t speak French.’ He switched to English, and I pretended not to understand that either. So he found a German translator, and the game was up.” But Porsche still won Le Mans again that year, thanks to the Kremer 935 of Klaus Ludwig and the soon-to-be infamous Whittington brothers.

Derek Bell, Hans Stuck and Al Holbert at Le Mans

By 1981 the 936 had been pensioned off, but it came out of the museum to be fitted with an adaptation of a 2.6-litre turbo flat-six that Porsche had produced for Indy racing with Danny Ongais’ Interscope campaign. It was the 50th anniversary of the foundation of Dr Ferdinand Porsche’s company, and his son Dr Ferry Porsche was at Le Mans that year, so the whole team was very relieved when Jacky and Derek had a perfect run to victory. It was the first of an unbroken run of seven Le Mans wins.

“The 956 for 1982 was something new: a monocoque. We hadn’t done one before. Mr Bott was always in favour of a spaceframe because it was lighter; torsional stiffness was of second order to him. But without a monocoque we wouldn’t have met the new safety regulations. We’d never done a monocoque before, so we had to learn it. And our first monocoque was actually just right, we never changed it through all the years of the 956/962. The longer-wheelbase 962 was built because of the IMSA regulations, which required the driver’s feet to be further back, but it worked well in Group C also.

“Another development that emerged in racing but ultimately had major relevance for road cars was the dual-clutch PDK transmission. The gearbox guys first came up with the idea way back in the 917 days, but when we got a system built for a 962 we found it was half-a-second slower. The oil pumps were soaking up power. So we redesigned all that, and then it was 0.7sec a lap faster around Paul Ricard. We usually only ran one car with PDK because we weren’t sure about its reliability: we won one race with it, Monza in 1986, and then we dropped it. Like the early ABS, so much of it was mechanical. Now it’s all electronic, and it’s in almost every 911.”

In 1985, during a championship race at Hockenheim, there was a furious fire in the Porsche pit during a refuelling stop.

“It was a very hot day. The 956/962 had a filler on each side: one guy put in the petrol, another put an empty bottle on the other filler to take the air pressure that was forced out. The air bottle guy fumbled his coupling and the fuel fountained out all over the rig. I was standing in the middle, and the fire just covered me. Porsche always had their own doctor at the track, and he got me into the helicopter and off to the burns unit at Ludwigshafen. I had 35 per cent burns.

“I was in hospital for nearly three months, and had a lot of skin grafts. While I was lying there I had two pieces of bad news. Within three weeks Manfred Winkelhock and then Stefan Bellof were killed, at Mosport and at Spa, driving customer Porsches. The following year, at Le Mans, Jo Gartner, driving a Kremer car, hit the barriers turning onto the Mulsanne Straight and died instantly. On the Friday Jo had come up to me and said, ‘My car is very loose at the rear.’ I said, ‘That’s easy, just raise the rear wing.’ He said, ‘The Kremer people won’t do that because of the extra drag. They want to do it with suspension settings.’ Maybe the car was still a bit unbalanced, I don’t know.”

Porsche always worked closely with its favoured racing customers. “We had a separate department for that, run by Jürgen Barth, and teams like Kremer or Joest, rather than trying to develop their own equipment, they could buy a front-runner for far less. It didn’t earn us much money, but it more or less covered its costs, and it got the Porsche name to the front of more races.

“We developed a real family relationship with some of our drivers, and we had a code for the pairings on the pit boards. Bell/Stuck were BEST, Mass/Ickx were MIX, and so on. BEST meant what it said: Derek was the ideal endurance driver, very fast, very reliable, and he thought like the member of a team. Unselfish: during the Group C fuel consumption era, if his co-driver had used too much fuel, he would without complaint drive to get it back onto the programme. In 1986/87 he created quite a mark by winning the 24-hour races at both Daytona and Le Mans, two years running. Hans too: a spectacular and exciting driver, but he always followed instructions to the letter.

“In 1987 Jaguar won the Sports-Prototype Championship, but we still won Le Mans. We would have won it in 1988, too, but we lost it to Jaguar because Klaus Ludwig, sharing the BEST car, made a mistake. When the fuel light came on you knew you had one full lap left in the tank. He tried to do two laps, and ran out in the Porsche Curves. He managed to get back to the pits on the starter motor, but that lost us two laps. Hans and Derek made up a lot of the time, and at the flag we’d lost the race by 2min 36sec.”

There are many more threads to Norbert’s Porsche career – like the Indycar project. “The space engineer Wernher von Braun told me, ‘From a success you don’t learn. But with every failure you have, you learn a lot.’ He’s right. If you make a car, and go out and race it, and win, what have you learned? In 1986 a Porsche Indycar programme was agreed. We built a 2.65-litre V8 engine and our own chassis, but after Al Unser Sr had done just one race Al Holbert, who was in charge of the American side of the programme, insisted we switch to a March chassis. We’d barely got the Porsche chassis shaken down, and later, in a back-to-back test with Teo Fabi at Firebird Raceway, we ended up with better times from the Porsche than the March. But by then the decision had been taken.”

Al Holbert died in an air crash in September 1988.

Fabi won a race at Mid-Ohio the following September, still using the March chassis, but in 1990 the programme was wound up.

With Formula 1 engines there was success and failure. The TAG Porsche turbo V6 unit brought McLaren five world championship titles in three years, 1984-85-86. “John Barnard was involved from the start to ensure that car and engine were designed together.” Then there was the abortive Arrows V12: “Too heavy, and the Arrows wasn’t very good either, so Arrows blamed the engine and Porsche blamed the chassis.”

In September 1988 came a bombshell. The Porsche board dictated a complete withdrawal from racing as a works team. “They said, OK, Norbert, no more racing. The competitions department was closed down, and I was moved to production car suspension development. It was like cutting off my legs. Two days later I had a call from Jean Todt, who was putting together the Peugeot endurance team, and wanted me to run it. I went to see him and got into it pretty deeply. We talked terms, I found a German school in Paris for my kids, but in the end I decided the language difference would make it very difficult. And though I had lost my racing role I was still, deep down, a Porsche man. In my spare time I started helping Reinhold Joest, who was running a 962: through 1989 and ’90 I did some new wings for him and other details. I fitted it in somehow. Road car development was usually timeless, get it done for next month, maybe the month after. Racing work was always urgent.

Norbert Singer wearing Rothmans Porsche team clothing

From junior to top dog: Singer spent 40 years with Porsche before retiring in 2010

“Then, when the new GT rules came in, Porsche decided it was appropriate to return, and we managed to homologate the Dauer road-prepared 962 as a GT car. At Le Mans we were going for the class win, but we got an unexpected overall victory. Then McLaren won with its F1 GTR in 1995, and a month later we got the go-ahead to start developing the GT1 to beat them. We took a 911, cut it in half, and turned the back around to put the engine ahead of the rear wheels.

“In 1996 our GT1s were second and third at Le Mans, winning the class and pushing the McLarens out of the top three. The actual winners were Joest in a car we’d originally engineered for TWR for IMSA, based on a chassis Ross Brawn had done for Jaguar. But with our engine and gearbox, we were still happy to take it as another Porsche Le Mans victory. Our works GT1s were leading overall in 1997, but a broken driveshaft caused a crash that put one car out on Sunday morning, and late in the race a broken oil line set the other one on fire.” But the Joest car won again, counting as the 15th victory.

“There is now a lot of F1 thinking. I’m not sure the new personnel remember all those 16 Le Mans victories”

Something more was needed for 1998, and Weissach came up with the carbon-chassis GT1-98. This time it all went right: two cars started, two cars finished, first and second. It was Porsche’s 16th Le Mans victory in 29 starts. “And it was a particularly important one, because it was the 50th anniversary of Porsche producing its first car. Dr Ferry Porsche had died earlier that year, but his son Wolfgang Porsche was there, watching in the pits. They wanted me up on the podium with the drivers, but I refused: I said that Dr Wolfgang must go up. Porsche is not just a faceless company, it is still like a family, and that was a family moment.

“At Porsche we’ve never had one star name on the design team, or one star team manager. Sometimes in F1 you get a personality designer in a very good team: they’re all doing their best but he gets the honour. Or if he really is responsible for much of a team’s success, when he moves to another team maybe the success goes with him, almost as if the team cannot manage without him. At Porsche if we are building a car, and one of the mechanics says, ‘Would it be a good idea to do it like this?’ we will always listen, even if in the end there are reasons why his idea would not work. Everyone is a key team member, and their ideas must be heard like everyone else’s. It’s not, ‘Shut up and do as you’re told.’

“My work contract with Porsche ended in 2004, but I continued as a consultant, and worked with the customers. One race I remember particularly was the Spa 24 Hours in 2003, won by the Freisinger GT2 Porsche of Marc Lieb, Stéphane Ortelli and Romain Dumas. It was a tricky race weather-wise, like it often is at Spa, rain, dry, rain, dry. In those races you always seem to end up on the wrong tyres. But that day all my decisions seemed to be the right ones. Dumas was the team junior, and when Lieb brought the car in on slicks it was actually raining. I told them to put on a new set of slicks, and Dumas looked at me with his eyes big and round. But I said, ‘Just take it easy for a couple of laps, you’ll be fine.’ So off he went on shiny new slicks.

“After two or three laps a dry line appeared, and he piled on the laps while the others were in the pits trying to decide which tyres to use. I realised then that Romain is one of the good guys. He’s in the Porsche LMP1 team now, of course.

“I finished with Porsche completely in 2010, after 40 years. Then the ACO offer came up, so my relationship with Le Mans continues. I analyse the respective performances of all the cars, particularly in the GT classes, lap speeds, section speeds, top speeds. I pass on all this information with my comments, and what they do with it is up to them.”

Norbert remains fascinated by the whole scene. Audi’s Le Mans score is now 13 wins, and Porsche is keen to hold the gap. “Audi is still very strong, not so much in speed as in consistency. Today, if you have almost any sort of problem, you have lost Le Mans. Electronics have changed a lot of things, and today’s cars are much more reliable. With three drivers in a car doing shorter stints, you can go flat out all the time across the whole 24 hours.”

I ask Norbert who now does his old job in the Porsche Le Mans team. “I think it’s a lot of people. In my day it was a small team, we all knew what was going on. A lot of the important decisions were taken on the staircase, in the canteen, walking briskly through the passages. If you needed some shop-floor information you’d talk to a mechanic. Today if there’s a problem they have a meeting about it, someone takes the question away and comes back a week later. There is a lot of F1 thinking, and I am not sure the new personnel remember all those 16 victories. Marketing decides racing policy, and the racing department is like an offshoot of the marketing department. The board decides on the effectiveness of a race programme compared to the cost of a TV campaign, or some posters beside the road.

“But, to be fair, it’s really the challenge of hybrid technology that has brought Porsche back. And, developing your road cars, even today you can’t rely totally on simulations behind closed doors. You still have to see what happens out there, on the track. Even today, racing can still improve the breed.”

Special Issue Contents Archive - Motor Sport Magazine

Porsche’s winning formula: lightness, reliability and relentless development

This was a little like digging priceless historical artefacts out of a field. First one emerged, a dream all by itself, more than I could have hoped for, beautiful, important and captivating. But then I caught a glimpse of another, and another…

More and more until no fewer than seven masterpieces emerged, all from the same creator, all similar in size and shape, yet no two truly alike. I simply didn’t know where to look next.

My slightly embarrassing reflex reaction to seeing Henry Pearman’s Historic Porsche Group C Collection is simply to start laughing, as the brain tries to process exactly what we have here. Which is more Group C Porsches in one place than anywhere else in the world and, yes, that includes the Porsche Museum. There are actually a double-digit number of 956s and 962s here which gives us the luxury of choice, so today we’ll just be sticking to cars either raced by the works, or in just one case, by the official works-supported team.

Rothmans Porsche undergoes a pit stop

Norbert Singer, Jacky Ickx and body maker Klaus Ziegler at Weissach, 1982. Development of the 956 was rapid

Together they span almost the entire history of Porsche’s factory involvement in perhaps the most fabled category of sports car racing. We start with the eighth 956, built to contest Le Mans in 1983, and end with the 962 that was the last car to win a Group C world championship race for Porsche in 1989. Between these lies the history of the world’s most successful sports racing car.

Most enthusiasts know the story of the creation of the Porsche 917, how Porsche defied rules specifically drafted to ensure such a car never got built by making all 25 units required and insouciantly lining them up for inspection. The story of how the Porsche 956 came to be is less well known, yet even more remarkable.

Porsche 962 racing in IMSA competition

From left: A scene that would have been familiar to the likes of Vern Schuppan, Bob Wollek and Sarel van der Merwe; Engine size for the 956/962 ranged from 2.65-3.2-litres

When Porsche announced its return to Le Mans last month it gave itself three years to plan its campaign (the marque will line up in the LMDh class in 2023). Its previous foray into prototype sports car racing was announced in 2011, also allowing itself fully three years to design and develop the 919 Hybrid, which then took a further year to win Le Mans. By contrast, just one year before the 956’s Le Mans debut in 1982, the project had not even been given the green light privately, let alone announced publicly.

And while the 917 was a car like no other seen before, there was nothing technically new about it. Indeed it wouldn’t be that inaccurate to call it an evolution of the 908 with an extra cylinder attached to each corner of its engine. The 956 was not only a clean-sheet design, but incorporated two crucial technologies that were brand new to Porsche, one of which provided an enormous headache.

The attraction of Group C, at least to a company like Porsche, was that it was a simplified formula with a deliberately slim rulebook. You could, for instance, have an engine of almost any size, and cars with 1.4-litre four-cylinder motors to 7-litre V12s raced in the Group C era. The most significant rule was a finite amount of fuel allowed per race, which was seen as a profound limitation by some but a fascinating technical challenge to Porsche.

“We could tell even then that the 956 was going to change the rules of sports car racing”

But in the time since Porsche had last developed a new prototype racer in the mid-1970s, the ground-effect era had begun in Formula 1 and it was quite clear the new sports car would have to incorporate the technology, too. This, combined with mooted new crash-test regulations, meant Porsche’s traditional spaceframe method of chassis construction was out of the question. Monocoque sports cars had been around since the Jaguar D-type in the mid-1950s but Porsche had remained faithful to its ultra-light, but not terribly strong or stiff spaceframes – until now.

“There was a philosophy in Porsche that said a tube frame was the lightest chassis but that didn’t take stiffness into account,” says Norbert Singer, Porsche racing legend and head of the car’s engineering team. “And with high downforce you need very stiff springs and also a very stiff car, which meant we needed a monocoque. On the safety side too, it was clear we had to leave the tube frame.

Rothmans Porsche 962s displayed together

From Left: The works 962 007 carries the names of Mass, Wollek and Schuppan from Le Mans 1987; This 956 was built for Le Mans 1983 and led for the first four hours, with Mass and Bellof on driving duties. It retired with just two hours to go

“We knew nothing about monocoques. We had to go and ask the aircraft industry what rivets to use, which aluminium to use, even which tools to use. We gave ourselves four weeks to figure it out, decided what was the best solution for us and it worked.”

Singer was faced with developing the car from the drawing board to the race track incorporating untested technology and with a massive problem: he had the wrong engine. A flat-six motor may have many qualities, but few more prejudicial to your lap time than its ability to get in the way of the underbody venturi essential for the generation of ground effect. A new ‘V’ formation engine would be ideal but there was neither the time, money nor latitude in the rule book for it to be a feasible proposition. They would have to make do with the flat six from the predecessor 936.

But Singer, veteran of Porsche’s motor sport campaigns from the 917 programme onwards, plays down the disadvantage. “The location of the flat-six engine did cause us some problems but only when we were trying to develop the car later on,” he says. “We ended up making the tyres narrower so the [underfloor] tunnels could be wider because we realised you’d gain more in aerodynamic grip than you lost in mechanical grip.”

To say time was tight is the understatement to end them all: as 1982 dawned, barely six months before Le Mans, not a single 956 had been built. Three months before not one had turned a wheel under its own power. And yet not only did it make Le Mans, the very first car made it to Silverstone, a month ahead of the French classic, with over 4000 miles of testing under its Dunlop tyres.

Rothmans Porsche 962 during a Le Mans race

A 956 pit stop at Le Mans, 1983. The striped helmet is Derek Bell, with Jacky Ickx to his right

The race itself was a bad joke, because the new Group C regs were still ironing themselves out and failed to distinguish in the fuel allocation between a standard 1000km race and the six-hour race at Silverstone where the winning car actually covered 1132km. Jacky Ickx claimed pole with ease but then he and team-mate Derek Bell had to crawl around to eke out their fuel allowance while the Lancia LC1 of Michele Alboreto and Riccardo Patrese – entered under the previous Group 6 regs which had been allowed to carry over in this transitional year – was able to romp away to victory. So Porsche treated it as an economy run and left Northamptonshire armed with very encouraging fuel consumption data and happy in the knowledge that the car had run trouble-free. And despite its drivers short shifting on minimal boost, it had still come second…

Then, at Le Mans, the three 956s came first, second and third, the winner a frankly ridiculous 30 laps ahead of the next car home behind the factory steam-roller. Unsurprisingly, Singer describes it as the “biggest moment, because with a new car you expect a lot of detail problems. We thought we might get one car into the top five. To win after that is nice, but there’s nothing like that first win.”

Derek Bell shared the winning car with Jacky Ickx following their victory together a year earlier in a 936. He says his memories are patchy, but for good reason. “You’d think I’d have great memories of 1982,” he says. “But apart from a problem with fuel mixture early in the race, it was a re-run of the year before. I think we got back into the lead shortly after midnight and that was that: a straight run to the flag followed home by the other two works cars.

Historic Porsche Group C cars gathered together

“We could tell even then that the 956 was going to change the rules of sports car racing. It had full ground effect and was electrifyingly quick on the track.”

The following year was the one that got away for Bell, and the performance he rates as his best at Le Mans. “We so wanted the hat-trick in 1983 and it went wrong on the second lap,” he says. “Jacky was dicing for the lead with Jan Lammers, they touched going into Mulsanne and Jacky had to take to the escape road. By the time he had regained the circuit, almost the entire field had gone through. It took us 14 hours of slog to make up the time we’d lost but on Sunday morning I slipstreamed past the leading 956 of Vern Schuppan and into the lead of the race.

“It lasted just seconds before the engine stopped dead. I’m not mechanically minded but we’d been told that if this happened it would be one of three things. I managed to get the cover off, usually a three-man job, and change all three components. I then hit the button and the engine whooshed back into life. I got the engine cover back on – God knows how – and rejoined. We then got back onto the pace until Jacky brought the car in for the final stint and said the brakes were finished. It would take 10 minutes to change them so I just jumped back in regardless.”

Bell would finish second, 17 seconds behind Al Holbert in another 956.

It’s not the purpose of this article to detail all its subsequent successes, but it is worth mentioning that between them the 956 and 962C won five successive World Sportscar Championships and six back-to-back Le Mans (which would have been almost certainly seven had Klaus Ludwig not run 962-10 out of fuel in 1988). Outside Group C it won five championships in Japan and three IMSA titles in North America, despite not being eligible to enter for the first two years of its working life. In total it chalked up some 232 victories in internationally recognised motor races.

Porsche 956s lead a Group C race

The 956 finished 1-2-3-4-5 at the 200-mile Norisring race in 1983, with Stefan Bellof (9) winning

Mcklein

But the question that needs answering is how it stayed good for so long, even after rivals had clearly got ahead technologically.

The answer appears to come in two parts. First it was even better from the outset than many of the those closest to the project actually realised. Ickx once told me a revealing story about testing the early 956 at Paul Ricard: “There was a kink that was nowhere near flat in the 936, and I didn’t think it would be flat in the 956. But as I tested the car my confidence grew enough to try taking it flat just once. And it was easy. I never lifted again.”

Singer readily recalls the Ricard test Ickx refers to and recounts how quickly the team made progress with its new masterpiece. “To start I did some lap simulations, and when we started testing my simulations were faster than what Jacky or Derek were doing,” he says. “Six months later they were going two or three seconds faster in exactly the same car! It shows the drivers had to really find a way with the downforce. At the fast chicane at Paul Ricard the simulations said it was flat but I could see the brake lights. So I told Jacky, ‘This should be flat,’ and he replied, ‘If Jochen [Mass] goes flat through there, I will on the very next lap. But I will not be the first…’”

“If Jochen goes flat through the chicane, I will on the very next lap. But I won’t be the first…”

These days drivers of even GT3 are very familiar with cars that seem to gain grip as speed increases thanks to downforce, but to sports car drivers in the early 1980s, it was a new development. “It was only when you really started to push it that the ground effect began to work properly,” says Bell. “Only then did we start to get an idea of just what an extraordinary car this was.”

The other explanation for why it took so long for the opposition to beat the Porsche Group C effort was that while the fundamental design never changed (apart from the wheelbase extension required for IMSA that turned the 956 into the ‘American version’ 962), the detail development never stopped. So while Henry Pearman’s earliest 956 and latest 962 both have aluminium tubs, flat-six twin-turbo engines and five-speed synchromesh gearboxes, I doubt that there is a component that was carried over unchanged from first to last.

“When you look at the pictures you might think that not a lot of development took place between 1982 and ’87 but under the skin a lot of work was done,” asserts Singer. “It’s all in the details. We never had the budget to make a completely new car after 1982 and the car was successful enough not to require it. But we still had to increase the downforce but reduce the drag, increase the power but reduce the fuel consumption… That was a lot of work.”

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At the beginning and because time was so short, the motor used in the 1982 956 was essentially the same as that used in 1981 in the 936, which meant a 2.65-litre capacity, an air-cooled block and a maximum output of around 620bhp. Compare that to the 3-litre motor built for the 1988 Le Mans effort, which was fully water cooled and in qualifying trim produced 880bhp.

But probably the most significant engine modification was the most subtle. It was the adoption of Bosch Motronic MP1.2 engine management for the 1983 works cars (made available to customers in 1984 in a car designated 956/84 but more commonly if unofficially referred to as the 956B), in place of the original Kugelfischer mechanical fuel injection. By using a computer to control both injection and ignition, the system provided a dramatic improvement in fuel consumption which meant the cars could run higher boost for longer durations for the same fuel amount of fuel burned. As the regulations evolved reducing both the amount of fuel available and its maximum permissible octane, the system was replaced in 1988 with the more efficient Motronic 1.7 system, utilising electronic wastegates.

Aerodynamically the cars changed all the time, with not just sprint and low-downforce bodywork being available depending on where the cars were racing, but also in every detail over the years as Porsche sought to optimise the car’s drag-to-downforce ratio, with a team that was learning the rules of ground-effect aerodynamics on the job. “In the wind tunnel we tried copying F1 and discovered that didn’t work, so we had to find our own way,” says Singer. “We did it all ourselves because if you hired people, in a couple of years they might leave and take their knowledge elsewhere. So we kept it in-house. It didn’t always work, but more often than not it did.”

“When you race for Porsche, you’re not just driving a car, you’re buying into the whole Porsche package – the history, the attention to detail, the Porsche way of doing things,” concurs John Watson, who raced Rothmans Porsches in 1984 and at Le Mans in 1985, then later joined the rival Tom Walkinshaw Racing Jaguar squad. “Those cars had serious ground effect and with the level of downforce we were getting by the late ’80s, you needed the most rigid construction there was, which meant the Jaguar was always going to have an advantage over the Porsche, particularly in high-downforce sprint configuration.”

“Few of the changes were giant leaps, but with a car that good from the outset they didn’t need to be,” says Bell. “It progressed, step by step through its career, its chassis, aero and engines always evolving, never sitting still. At the end it was still the same concept of car as it had been at the start, just better in every measurable way.”

With thanks to Henry Pearman and the staff of the Historic Porsche Group C Collection for all their help making this feature possible.

Works Porsche 956 history books

The best book

The definitive history of the factory Porsche 956, Works Porsche 956 by Serge Vanbockryck, was published in 2019. Across two volumes and 800 pages, it includes every car, every development, every race and every driver in extraordinary detail, and is available from Porter Press for £450. Vanbockryck’s book about factory 962s is also available.

Porsche 962 cockpit and engine details

1. 1983 Porsche 956-008

Built for Le Mans 1983 for the all-German squad of Jochen Mass and hotshot Stefan Bellof. Retired after 22 hours having been timed on the Mulsanne at 218mph. Used by Bellof to win the ‘Money Race’ at Norisring a week later. Loaned to Richard Lloyd Racing for Le Mans in 1984 and raced by, among others, Nick Mason before retiring. It was then used as the works camera car, with a podium finish in its final race, in 1985.

2. 1987 Porsche 962-007

One of the two lightweight 962s intended for Le Mans in 1987, raced that season until it was damaged during a shakedown at Weissach by Stuck who would go on to win Le Mans in the spare car (962-006, still owned by Porsche). Qualified in second for Le Mans in 1988 and led the race for many hours before retiring. Sold to Joest and raced during ’88 and ’89. Now restored with Sprint bodywork and Rothmans livery.

3. 1987 Porsche ‘962-087’

Perhaps the most intriguing car here; while believed to be an ex-works, lightweight development car, it is yet to be confirmed as such. It is referred to as ‘087’ because all works cars had ‘0’ numbers and it is a period-correct tub. The problem is that no 962 tubs had chassis numbers, so identification is hard. It does have the qualifying engine from the 1987 Le Mans winner, an ex-works gearbox and the Sprint tail from 008.

4. 1985 Porsche 962-004

One of the first three factory 962Cs, and the first 962 used for IMSA testing. Made its debut at Le Mans in 1985 but retired after 21 hours. Used by Mass and Ickx for the season until damaged by Ickx at Spa in the accident that took Stefan Bellof’s life. Raced by Mass and Wollek in 1986, including pole at Le Mans before retiring. Sold to Joest and used in Rothmans colours. Finished Le Mans 1988 in fifth as a Blaupunkt entry.

5. 1989 Porsche 962-011

Porsche did not race as a factory team in 1989 but instead supported Joest Racing. Bob Wollek and Frank Jelinski won at the Nürburgring, Silverstone and Dijon, the last of these being the final Group C race to be won by a Porsche. It was used by Joest as a privateer car from 1991-93 mostly in FATurbo Express livery when Porsche helped develop high-downforce bodywork. It is the ultimate factory developed 962.

6. 1987 Porsche 962-008

Derek Bell and Hans Stuck’s car for the early part of 1987, achieving three consecutive poles and finishing on the podium in every race until Le Mans where it secured pole and led the race before it holed a piston. The following year, it was the car in which Mario, Michael and Jeff Andretti tried to become the first family to win Le Mans but only came sixth. This is also one of few 962s to run with a pioneering PDK gearbox.

7. 1988 Porsche 962-010

The ultimate works 962C, built to win Le Mans in 1988 in the hands of Derek Bell, Hans-Joachim Stuck and Klaus Ludwig. Took pole, but came second after it ran out of fuel with Ludwig driving and had to return to the pits on the starter motor. Equipped with high-boost qualifying engine offering 880bhp, the most power ever generated by a factory Group C Porsche. It’s one of the least raced, most original 962s in the world.

Porsche engineers examine a Group C race car

How the 956 transformed into the 962

IMSA regulations called for a few design tweaks

The Porsche 962 was not initially designed as a Group C car. It was a response to IMSA refusing to allow the 956 to race, thanks to rules mandating that the driver’s feet be behind the front axle centre line. IMSA didn’t like the look of the 956’s multi-valve, twin-turbo, water-cooled motor either. For years IMSA had been dominated by private Porsches, or Porsche-powered prototypes and they all had good ole-fashioned air-cooled, single-turbo, single-cam flat sixes.

But Porsche rarely lets details like regulations get in its way. “We knew they wouldn’t let the 956 race in IMSA, but that was fine because we designed it for Group C,” says Norbert Singer. “It was easy to make the changes needed. We had some aero issues with the shorter nose but we overcame those and the longer wheelbase actually helped.”

Porsche had an entirely eligible single-cam, single-turbo 12-valve air-cooled version of the flat-six engine already dominating IMSA in the 935. The driver’s feet issue was solved by extending the wheelbase by 121mm and lopping a commensurate amount off the nose to keep the car within permitted length, which is why, to many, the 956 is a far better looking car than the 962. The new car made its IMSA debut in 1984 and dominated the category for the next four years.

Rothmans Porsche 956 racing on track

James Lipman

Driving the ultimate factory Porsche 962C

The superlatives flow from Andrew Frankel as he recalls his trackday at a chilly Silverstone in the racer that finished second in the 1988 Le Mans 24 Hours. And what a car it is…

I have been lucky enough to track test a couple of Porsche 962s. The one you see pictured was Porsche’s own, a Le Mans winner and was driven at Weissach, the home of Porsche motor sport, under grey skies. That’s about as good as it gets. But despite this, the one I recall most vividly was Henry Pearman’s 962-010 that I drove at Silverstone a few years ago.

This was the factory’s last laugh, a one-off car built to win Le Mans in 1988 –and it almost did. Even without qualifying boost, so probably with ‘only’ around 750bhp under my right foot, it was a revealing experience.

“There was no single reason for the 962’s huge success”

The interior still looked primitive, far closer to that of a 1960s racer than a modern sports racing car. And for all the progress made under the engine cover, there was still significant turbo lag. It needed more than 3000rpm on the clock before it would show any interest at all, and then you had to watch out because when the power did turn up, it wasn’t shy about announcing its arrival.

On a dry but cold track and probably old slicks there was no point in putting your foot down in second. But in third the thrust was simply extraordinary to behold.

Driver seated inside a Porsche 962 cockpit

James Lipman

It felt a little cumbersome in slow corners, thanks no doubt to its locked differential and the kind of spring rate required to support a body capable of generating so much downforce, and as we were using the National Circuit it was only through Copse that I felt it starting to work. And it was incredible: fast, but also inspiring complete confidence. All I didn’t much like about it was the slow, ponderous gearchange.

Having driven it, the thought occurred to me there was one more reason the 956 and 962C did so well and survived for so long: these were easy cars to drive, pretty straightforward in operation, forgiving by nature with reliability built into their DNA. In long-distance racing such qualities are as important as pure power. There was no single reason for the success of the 956 and 962, but all these factors combined.

As for racing longevity that’s simple: as has been said before, nothing succeeds like success.

Special Issue Contents Archive - Motor Sport Magazine

Porsche’s winning formula: lightness, reliability and relentless development

Richard Attwood strides into the pub, dapper as ever just days after his 85th birthday, and greets me with an enormous grin. The pub is significant, not for what, but where it is. When we were arranging our meeting he insisted on knowing the precise route I’d be taking from my home in the Wye Valley to his in the Midlands because he wanted to make sure it was as convenient for me as possible. If you know Richard, this will surprise you not in the very least.

There’s so much we could be talking about. There is his unexplained escape from death towards the start of his top-level career, when during the 1965 Belgian Grand Prix he wrapped his Lotus 25 around a telegraph pole at the exit of the Masta Kink leaving him unharmed but entirely unable to extricate himself from the now banana-shaped Lotus until, that is, the whole thing went up in flames. “So I got out of the car,” he says, still entirely unable to say where the superhuman forces required to do so came from, other than his mortally threatened instinct to survive. Or his one-off return to Le Mans in 1984, 13 years after retirement, to race an Aston Martin Nimrod with John Sheldon and Mike Salmon which ended in another fire, this time putting the former in hospital with serious burns.

Richard Attwood with a Porsche 917 racing car

Attwood today, now aged 85, with Andrew Frankel

DPPI

But while today’s subject is indeed Le Mans, we’re going to keep it to just three of his nine participations, when he was racing for the Porsche factory between 1969-71. Even so, I’m a touch concerned about the premise for this story, because if Richard doesn’t agree with it, we’re in trouble. So I think we’d better get it out the way nice and early.

“Would it be fair to say you should have won two of those races but didn’t, and should not have won one, but did?” I ventured…

Attwood thinks for a moment during which time I convince myself he’s composing the words with which to let me down gently before he says, “Yes, I think that is absolutely fair to say.”

After a sigh of relief, I ask him how he even found himself as a works Porsche driver. “It started when I was asked to do a race at Watkins Glen in 1968, in a 908, because Porsche wanted to be represented by drivers from around the world. I was originally meant to share with Tetsu Ikuzawa but it didn’t work out like that. But even though we retired, it must have gone quite well because I was then asked to do the 1969 season for Porsche.”

“I knew the car was going to be a problem the moment I saw it”

He nearly didn’t accept because John Wyer wanted him in a GT40, but he figured it was already an ageing car and Porsche was always pushing the limits. He did not at the time perhaps appreciate just how far those limits would be pushed by a handy device the factory was working on called the 917…

But with the 917 not yet ready, Richard started his 1969 season at Daytona in what turned out to be three different 908s as he was shuttled from car to car as, one by one, they all broke. Sebring was a little better as sharing with Vic Elford they at least finished, albeit down in seventh place, delayed by a leaking oil tank, but second at Brands Hatch was much more like it and at Monza they were third in a train of works 908s when a puncture sent Vic into the barriers and out of the race. The 917 made its debut at Spa but even the absurdly brave Jo Siffert refused to race it, leaving it to Gerhard Mitter who lasted precisely one lap before the engine blew, possibly much to his relief.

Porsche 917 races along the Le Mans circuit

Porsche’s Attwood and Vic Elford were leading in the 1969 Le Mans 24 Hours until a gearbox issue in the 22nd hour

DPPI

And so to Le Mans. Its stability problems still unresolved, despite its race-winning potential, the 917 was not exactly first choice among the factory drivers.

“No one wanted to drive it. I thought it was probably my turn so accepted it when Porsche said I was to drive with Vic, and it was years later at Goodwood before Vic told me he’d asked if he could drive it with me. If I’d known I’d have backed out of it straight away. I only did it because it seemed to come straight from Porsche. I knew the car was going to be a problem the moment I saw it on a stand because its profile was almost identical to a long-tail 908, and that was absolutely on the limit of acceptable aerodynamic stability, and here was a car whose engine was half as large again. Flat out at Monza the 908 did 195mph. At Le Mans we were doing 235mph…

“I’d never driven anything like it, with that level of performance. The exhausts exited under my seat so I was deafened after two hours, my neck had gone and the bloody thing lasted for 21 hours. It was only meant to do six [that’s how long Porsche expected it would last]. An example. The Mulsanne kink was flat out. Not just flat, but easy flat. In anything. Not the 917. We were nowhere near flat in that. You had to ease off, get a bit of attitude on the car before you turned in, or else you get what happened to Digby.”

Richard Attwood beside Porsche 917 number 12

Elford, left, and Attwood, seated, at La Sarthe in 1969; afterwards a shattered Attwood felt glad to have survived his hours with the 917

Getty Images

He’s referring to ace Chevron racer Digby Martland, who was invited to share the first privateer 917, owned by John Woolfe. In practice he duly spun it at vast speed, somehow managed not to hit anything, drove slowly back to the pits and walked away not only from the car, but the race. He was replaced by the vastly experienced factory test driver Herbert Linge, who begged Woolfe to let him take the start. Woolfe insisted on doing it himself and was killed before the first lap was completed. “Digby going home was one of the bravest decisions I ever saw a driver make,” Richard recalls.

“I’d had a good run so 1971 was really about winding down”

Yet despite having to manage the car the entire time, it was so fast that with just two and a half hours to go it was four laps clear of the next quickest car when something in the transmission, the bellhousing or clutch, started to pack up. “You couldn’t get a gear so we had to call it a day.”

But far from feeling desolate at being so cruelly robbed of such a hard-fought result, Richard felt only relief.

Porsche 917 No. 23 races through rain at Le Mans

In atrocious conditions at Le Mans in 1970, Porsche reigned, winning all classes – including the overall race with this 917K, driven by Attwood and Herrmann

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“By that stage I couldn’t have cared less about the win. All I knew was that it had been a nightmare, and now it was over.”

What he couldn’t have known at the time is that failure at Le Mans actually sowed the seed for his (and Porsche’s first) victory the following year.

“They [the factory] knew I’d given everything I had to give in that race. When it was over, I was finished. Spent. Total mental and physical exhaustion. I must have looked like death. But they thought I looked that way because I was so disappointed not to win the race, when in fact I was delighted. So that’s why I was told I could choose both the car and my team-mate for the following year. I don’t know that they’d ever done that.”

“In a car like that you just don’t want to be out in the wet”

I wonder how many drivers of that era would have just said, “Put me in your fastest car and give me your fastest co-driver”? Probably most, but not Richard. With both 4.9-litre and 4.5-litre engine capacities available he chose the smaller motor. When the choice came to a four or five-speed transmission, he chose four. Offered short or long-tail bodywork, he chose short. And of all the drivers on Porsche’s books, he opted for the 42-year-old Hans Herrmann, not because he was Porsche’s fastest driver – with the best will in the world he was in the twilight of his career and nowhere near the level of a Jo Siffert or Pedro Rodríguez – but because Richard reckoned he’d likely be the most reliable. “I thought it might be quite nice to actually finish the race.”

Richard Attwood smiling in his racing suit

Attwood, Le Mans, ’70

Getty Images

But these were decisions made in February when he still considered the 4.9-litre engine in particular far from proven. Come June he realised he’d made a horrible mistake.

“I remember saying to [his wife] Veronica, ‘We have not got a chance in this race.’ After qualifying there were 14 cars in front of us. Our best lap was a dozen seconds off pole. You cannot tell me that they’re all going to fail. One of them, probably more, will get through for sure. I thought I’d made the biggest error of my life. It was a disaster.” He didn’t even consider the appallingly wet conditions that characterised much of the race gave them an advantage.

“It was Pedro’s race. I just minded the shop while he took a break”

“It was just an added complication. And in a car like that you just don’t want to be out in the wet, and it was really, really wet. Besides, I think we were already leading when the worst of it came, so I can’t say we were relying on it.”

The race turned into a war of attrition of a kind that has rarely, if ever, visited the race before or since. Of the 51 cars that set off on Saturday afternoon, just seven had completed sufficient distance 24 hours later to be classified as finishers. But at their head, five laps clear of the field, came the Attwood/Herrmann, Salzburg-liveried 917.

Porsche 917 races through heavy rain at Le Mans

Today we know that Porsche has won here at La Sarthe more than any other maker, but Attwood and Herrmann gave it its first win in 1970

Getty Images

“Honestly, I thought it was ridiculous. There were so many great drivers in cars far faster than ours. If any of them had just stroked it along, they’d have won easily. They could have gone fast when it was dry and just back right off when it was wet.” That said, Richard does admit to finding himself unexpectedly busy in the Esses, with the 917 at a distinctly unorthodox angle of attack. “Could have ended it right there and then,” he muses. Still I think over a largely wet day and night in a 917, he can be forgiven one slip.

But as if winning Le Mans in a Porsche 917 in the wet were not enough of an achievement, Attwood did the entire race on a diet of milk.

‘I knew I was unwell because I couldn’t swallow. At the victory dinner I couldn’t stay awake and had to leave after 20 minutes.” Though he didn’t know it at the time, he was then and will almost certainly always remain the only driver to win the Le Mans 24 Hours while suffering from mumps.

By the end of the season Richard already knew the next would be his last. “The time was right. I’d lost so many friends, I got married and I had responsibilities towards the family business. I’d had a good run, so 1971 was really about winding down for me.”

Gulf-liveried Porsche 917 No. 19 at Le Mans

Attwood was back at Le Mans in 1971, alongside Herbert Müller in a John Wyer/Gulf 917K; they’d finish second… but Attwood would return – in 1984

LAT Images

A good run indeed. While his Formula 1 career had never quite taken off, there were moments of brilliance, none more so than at Monaco in 1968 where he’d been drafted in to the BRM team to replace Mike Spence who’d tragically lost his life earlier in the month at Indianapolis. Driving a car he’d never raced before, having done a grand total of one world championship race since the end of 1965 (a one-off drive in a Cooper–Maserati at the 1967 Canadian Grand Prix) and in only his second race in a 3-litre Formula 1 car, Richard came second to Monaco master Graham Hill (racking up his fourth win), by just over 2sec with the next fastest car four laps down. And broke the outright lap record in the process. He’d won Le Mans and never seriously been hurt in what was surely motor-racing’s most dangerous era.

Which is why Le Mans was the first of just three races he’d do for Porsche in his valedictory year. Now racing for John Wyer’s factory team, this time there was no choosing car or co-driver: it was the full fat 4.9-litre, five-speed 917, with highly evolved, finned short-tail bodywork and the Swiss driver Herbie Müller to hand over to. Müller had by then already done Le Mans seven times but to date had only seen the flag once, driving for Scuderia Filipinetti back in 1964. Then again, it was also the only time to date he’d driven a Porsche there…

“It was a last-minute thing with John Wyer, because I think he was only going to run his two long-tail cars, then decided to make a third entry. Herbie had a reputation for being a bit of a wild child, so I sat him down before the race and told him we had to be sensible, that we were the third car but you never know how things will work out at Le Mans. I gave him a proper lecture and actually he drove perfectly.

“And we should have won that race too because we had the gearbox jam in a gear. So I brought it in and they went to work. We couldn’t change the gearbox so they had to completely strip it down, find out what was wrong and repair it. And of course it was all red hot. It took around 40 minutes.

“Then the winning car had the same problem, but by now they knew what to do. They did it in something like half the time. We lost the race by five minutes…”

The next quickest car was 29 laps down. It was the fastest Le Mans in history by a distance, the winning Martini 917 of Gijs van Lennep and Helmut Marko averaging over 138mph for the duration and thanks to the 3-litre formula introduced in 1972 and circuit changes, it was a record that was to stand for 39 years.

Richard did just two more races, winning the Österreichring 1000Kms, sharing with Pedro Rodríguez, though he is the first to say the victory belonged to his team-mate.

“Honestly, it was Pedro’s race. There had to be two drivers so I just minded the shop while he took a break. That was all I did.”

Richard Attwood wearing his racing helmet and suit

Bernard Cahier/Getty Images

That race has gone down rivalling the Brands Hatch 1000Kms race the previous year as perhaps Rodríguez’s finest drive. Two weeks later he was dead. I remember Tony Southgate telling me, “We had this BRM sports car which we were going to race in the Interserie event at the Norisring. But we only had one engine and we blew it up on the dyno. I had to ring Pedro and say, ‘Very sorry, but we haven’t got a car for you to race.’ He replied, ‘Don’t worry, I’ve been offered £1500 to drive this Ferrari.’ Had that engine held, we might have had him for a little longer.”

In the event, driving Herbie Müller’s Ferrari 512 M, he crashed, the car caught fire and that was that. Not that this in any way cemented Attwood’s decision to retire. He’d already made his mind up. He did the final race at Watkins Glen, the last time a factory 917 would contest a round of the World Sportscar Championship, and came third sharing with Derek Bell despite the latter having to jury rig a broken throttle cable at the side of the track. He was out. He had survived and never regretted his decision.

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Today, Richard Attwood is as he has always been for all the years I’ve known him: thoughtful, considerate, kind, articulate and modest in a way you do not expect from pro racing drivers who’ve reached the top of their sport and, above all, bloody funny.

As we’re preparing to leave he suddenly stops and says, “Hang on, I’ve got something to show you…” He then produces an envelope and removes a sheet of headed paper, the name on the top familiar. It’s a handwritten letter of birthday wishes from Wolfgang Porsche, chairman of the Porsche supervisory board, son of Ferry Porsche and cousin of Ferdinand Piëch, who designed the 917. I can tell by how carefully he is handling it how much it means to him that, 55 years after he helped deliver Porsche’s first win at Le Mans, it still matters enough to the company for him to be recognised in this way.

Given what he went through in that race, and the same one the year before, it is absolutely appropriate that it should.

richard-attwood-porsche-917-silverstone-1999.jpg

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‘I couldn’t believe what I’d just got to do’

Andrew Frankel recalls his 1999 test of a Porsche 917

The success of a track test depends on the car, the environment and its owner. The car was Porsche 917 chassis 22, painted to look like its Le Mans-winning sister chassis 23. Its greatest claim to fame was to be camera car for the Steve McQueen Le Mans movie. The environment was a dry and deserted Silverstone, the owner you know.

Just like the winner, chassis 22 had a 4.5-litre engine and short tail – even so I thought 580bhp in a car weighing little more than 800kg enough to be getting on with. Richard Attwood took it out to shake it down, brought it back in and proclaimed it to be running perfectly. My turn.

I went out and did a couple of laps to get a feel for it. I was struck not just by the sound of the flat 12, but the lightness of the steering and the slow, methodical nature of the all-synchro gearbox.

Richard was waiting for me, looking impatient. He opened the door and said words to the effect of, “That won’t do at all. Get out there and have a proper go.”

So I did. I drove a 917 as fast as I could make it go. It has sprint gearing so I saw maximum revs in top gear – around 170mph – at least three times every lap. Once, getting greedy with the throttle at corner exit, I felt the tail start to slide wide. One instinctive corrective flick later we were back on course. Richard always said that over the winter of 1969/70 they turned the worst car he’d ever driven into the best; I could see why.

I returned to the pits to find Richard now grinning. “Quite something, isn’t it?” I wasn’t able to speak; I couldn’t believe what I’d just got to do. Over a quarter of a century later, part of me still can’t.

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Porsche’s winning formula: lightness, reliability and relentless development

Almost by tradition, Porsche’s sports racing cars were built with tubular frames. Hermann Ramelow designed the original tubular frame Porsche, the type 550, which first raced in 1953, as a complete departure from the type 356 production cars which were far too compromised to remain at the forefront in racing, especially with their overhung rear engines.

In 1964, though, Porsche made a surprising conversion back to a platform chassis construction for the type 904, the sports Grand Touring model which achieved a great many successes in racing, and even in rallying, in various parts of the world.

Porsche’s Formula 1 programme was brought to a close at the end of 1962 with a single success for Dan Gurney in the French Grand Prix at Rouen, and since the company was in one of its periodic downturns chairman Dr Ferry Porsche decided to concentrate on production-based cars for competitions instead.

Porsche 904 competing on a winding road

The 904 proved adept on road races as well as circuit ones. This is Colin Davis and Antonio Pucci on their way to victory in the 1964 Targa Florio

He intended the new six-cylinder engine, designated 901, to power the type 904 racing car when it was launched for the 1964 season. This was almost a year before the new production model, the 911, went into production, and it was eventually decided to stay with the Fuhrmann designed four-cylinder, quad-cam engine.

“The lucky customers loved the 904 to death”

Both engines developed approximately 180 horsepower, but there were plenty of four-cylinder units in service around the world and a great many potential customers – at least 100 of them since that many cars had to be produced for GT homologation – had plenty of experience of them.

Expensive as they were, and a nightmare to rebuild (it required 100 hours of labour to take a Fuhrmann engine apart and put it together again), the four-cylinder engine was a well-proven component.

Porsche 904 Carrera GTS showing its distinctive rear bodywork

The new ’six’ was just too new to release on a worldwide basis, especially in tuned-up form with 180bhp, the same level as the previous year’s 1.5-litre eight-cylinder F1 engine. There was ample space in the engine bay for the four-cylinder unit, enough for the six-cylinder, and for Porsche’s eight-cylinder racing engine. The intention was to build 100 examples with the four-cylinder engine and homologate these as GT cars, and to make a small series for Porsche’s own team with both six- and eight-cylinder engines.

Then, a second series of 100 would be made for the 1965 season entirely with six-cylinder engines, with an evolution certificate for GT competitions.

The 904 was never developed as planned, though, and the second series was never made. Records show that 104 cars were made and sold with four-cylinder engines and of the remaining 16 retained by the factory, 10 had six-cylinder engines and six had eight-cylinder two-litre engines derived from the 1.5-litre Formula 1 unit.

Porsche 904 Carrera GTS in silver racing trim

The 904 Carrera GTS was only produced from 1963-65 but used a range of engines from flat fours to flat eights

The suspension components were similar to those on the previous year’s 804 F1 car, though productionised, with a double wishbone front suspension and a complicated four-link rear suspension.

Telescopic shock absorbers and coil springs were featured, with no sight of Porsche’s more familiar torsion bar system.

Ing Hans Tomala, who developed the 901 power unit, was appointed to supervise the design of the 904. Ing Schroeder designed the simple boxframe steel chassis, which had little torsional strength without the rollover bar and glass-fibre body, and the 904 was styled by Ferdinand ‘Butzi’ Porsche, who had only just signed-off the 911’s timeless bodystyle.

Porsche 904 prepared for the Monte Carlo Rally

Engineer and navigator Rolf Wütherich (left) and driver Peter Falk on the Monte Carlo Rally in 1965

In Porsche’s parlance Tomala was the ‘father’ of the design, an excellent system whereby one man is responsible for the quality and integrity of the design, the costing, the ordering of special parts, and the timetable.

The price quoted by the 904 Carrera GT was very attractive at DM 27,900 (about £2800 at the prevailing rate of exchange). In standard form the 904 GT had 51×15 pressed steel wheels and a proper exhaust system which reduced the power to 155bhp at 6400rpm, ample for a car that weighed only 650kg.

The 904 never went near a wind tunnel but it looked very slippery, with its headlamps recessed far back behind perspex shields. It proved to be a versatile machine which was far from ideal for road use (“normal conversation is utterly impossible at 100mph,” remarked Car & Driver. “The owner/driver would have to be slightly out of his mind to use it on the highway.”), but it was loved to death by the lucky customers.

The road version had a top speed of 160mph, accelerated to 60mph in 5.3sec and to 100 in 12.2.

“The 904 was without doubt one of the world’s fastest GT cars”

The 904 was without doubt one of the world’s fastest GT cars, never mind that it had a small, Weber carburated engine with none of the glamour of a Ferrari V6 or V12.

No figures were recorded for the competition model, the GTS, which made 180bhp at 7200rpm, but they put the 904 GTS at the top of the two-litre division. Apart from the many racing successes, the most amazing exploit was Eugen Böhringer’s second place overall in the Monte Carlo Rally in 1965, the snowbound event won by Timo Mäkinen in a works Mini Cooper S.

So unsuitable was the 904 for this type of event that Böhringer’s second place must rank alongside Juan Manuel Fangio’s victory in the 1957 German Grand Prix. And three places behind, to Porsche’s great delight, was the new 911 making its competition debut in the hands of Weissach engineers Herbert Linge and Peter Falk.

But I have jumped a year! The 904 model may not have had the new six-cylinder engine as yet, but it did incorporate its five-speed gearbox, its ZF rack and pinion steering, its Dunlop-ATE four-wheel disc brake system and many more items, all pre-production parts which saved money and accelerated the durability trials.

Early photos showed clean bodywork behind the doors, but the rear brakes were soon found to overheat. The 904 GT soon featured an air inlet grille, while the GTS had prominent air scoops forcing cold air to the brakes.

Development of the 904 was completed in the space of six months, confined mostly to the Nürburgring and the skid pan at Weissach, the site of Porsche’s new research and development centre.

Two 904s made their debut at Sebring in March 1964, running as prototypes since the run of 100 hadn’t been completed. Herbert Linge and Edgar Barth encountered clutch problems and finished 20th, while Briggs Cunningham and Lake Underwood had a clear run and finished ninth, winning the two-litre division.

A month later, and duly homologated, Porsche 904s were the surprising claimants to first and second places overall in the Targa Florio. As faster cars broke or crashed, Colin Davis and Antonio Pucci drove for a win followed by Herbert Linge and Gianni Balzarini.

The 904 had not been considered as an outright winner, certainly not in GT form with the four-cylinder engine, but it was a supremely reliable machine which fairly dominated the two-litre GT category.

All five cars entered at Le Mans in 1964 finished safely, that of Guy Ligier and Robert Buchet finishing seventh overall, and at Reims all eight Porsche 904s reached the finish. Later in the season Barth and Davis drove an eight-cylinder, 235bhp Porsche 904 to third place in the Paris 1000km behind a pair of 3.3-litre Ferraris, and this set the tone for 1965.

Ing Tomala left the company and was replaced by Ing Ferdinand Piëch, Ferry’s nephew. Piëch had considerable flair and forced the pace of development. One of his first decisions was to produce a new racing car, reverting to a tubular frame, for the 1966 season. This would be called the 906, and in the meantime the 904 came to be regarded as a stopgap model which competed in a variety of forms.

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The Porsche 904 GTS with Hollywood history
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The Porsche 904 GTS with Hollywood history

Porsche owned by Robert Redford, Steve Earle and Jim Tidwell to be auctioned by Bonhams Images courtesy of Bonhams Once owned by Hollywood A-lister Robert Redford, this 1964 Porsche 904 GTS…

By Graham Keilloh

At the 1965 Targa Florio, for instance, four different types of 904 pursued the winning Ferrari. Colin Davis and Gerhard Mitter finished second in a unique 904 Spyder powered by the eight-cylinder engine (it had been rejected by Jo Bonnier as being insufficiently rigid, which was undoubtedly true).

They were followed by Herbert Linge and Umberto Maglioli in the 210bhp, six-cylinder 904 and by Bonnier and Graham Hill in the eight-cylinder 904 coupé. Fifth overall, and winners of the GT category were Günther Klass and Antonio Pucci in a 185bhp 904 GTS.

The 904’s durability proved itself again at Le Mans where Linge and Peter Nocker took fourth place overall in a six-cylinder 904, behind three Ferraris. Linge, the factory’s test driver, had a special 901 engine made of magnesium instead of aluminium alloy, saving valuable weight, and this became the basis of the 911’s engine in 1969.

Everything that came out of Weissach had a purpose, and this is as true today as it was then.

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Porsche’s winning formula: lightness, reliability and relentless development

In 1943 a father escorted his 15-year-old son to a factory gate in Stuttgart. It was the first day of the boy’s apprenticeship as a mechanic. The lad had only the most basic education but was obviously very skilled with his hands because 100 people had applied for only eight apprenticeships. The company was Porsche and the boy was Herbert Linge. Over the next 45 years this boy would help shape Porsche’s road and racing cars, and make his own mark on racing’s pages.

Linge proved to be the most talented of his peers and was awarded a scholarship to the local engineering school, which he attended three afternoons a week. They were tough times. The RAF was pounding German industry and there were many shortages as the war in the East started to go badly wrong. The bus that used to take young Linge from his home to Zuffenhausen stopped running and Linge had to make the 25km journey by bicycle.

Herbert Linge wearing helmet before a Porsche race

Linge in Porsche’s 718/2 Formula 2 car at the Nürburgring in 1959

Almost 20 years later Porsche was planning to build a test track near the factory so that its racing team could test its cars without having to go to the Nürburgring or to Hockenheim – or test racing cars on the autobahn with dodgy number plates, as Linge had done many times. A site was found near the Stuttgart factory that seemed ideal. Unfortunately, Ferry Porsche was not happy at the thought of tearing up good farmland. Linge, however, knew of an ideal site near his home (where he had lived his whole life) in Weissach. The test track was built and, later in the 1960s, the entire racing shop was moved to the site. So, nearly 30 years after a teenage Linge had to cycle to work, work came to him.

The biography of Herbert Linge is the history of Porsche. From 1946 to 1948 in the turmoil that was postwar Germany, Linge worked in Baden Baden repairing Volkswagens for the French army. In Gmünd, Austria, Porsche built its first car and then in November 1949 moved back to Stuttgart. The first employee taken on by the company was Linge.

The Porsche cars built in Gmünd were alloy-bodied – the perfect material for very low volumes, but for larger scale production steel would be far cheaper. Porsche chose coachbuilder Reutter, which among other work looked after Stuttgart’s trams, to build the 356.

“We were working in a corner of Reutter’s factory,” recalls Linge. “Porsche didn’t even have tools so I used my own and borrowed what I didn’t have from people at Reutter. Every day Ferdinand Porsche would come around and see how we were doing. To me he was like a god. But not only was he an idol, he was also an extremely pleasant man.”

Young Herbert Linge shows Ferdinand Porsche a cylinder head

With Ferdinand Porsche, who Lang considered a god. Lang holds Porsche’s first production cylinder head

In 1948 American entrepreneur Max Hoffman signed up as Porsche’s North American agent. Hoffman loved the cars and within a couple of years had established the US as the source of 30 per cent of Porsche’s sales. There were, however, a couple of problems. First off, the fuel quality in the US was higher than in Europe and that made the cars run poorly. Second, American customers weren’t used to shifting gears so there were problems with clutches and gearboxes. In 1952 Linge was sent to America to sort the problems. “Customers couldn’t believe it when a mechanic from the factory arrived to sort out their car,” says Linge, “and the factory couldn’t believe it when I told them about the adjustments that were needed to make the engines run properly. Traffic jams were unheard of in Europe in the early ’50s, but in New York they were an everyday experience and the cars had to deal with them.”

In November 1952 Linge was asked to go down to Mexico to help a couple of Porsche customers competing in the Carrera Panamericana. Linge was to act as a riding mechanic for Konstantin Berckheim in his 356. “I just turned up with a small toolbox, which was a bit of a contrast to the Mercedes set-up. Alfred Neubauer was there with 25 mechanics and three trucks,” remembers Linge.

“Neubauer saw me underneath one of the cars adjusting the valve clearances at the end of a day’s driving. I had it up on the simple jack supplied with the car. Neubauer said ‘You can’t work on your car in the dust’ and turned to his chief mechanic and told him to find me a space in their garage. Later I had the engine out of the car and, when it was ready to go back in, Neubauer told his drivers Karl Kling and Hermann Lang to roll up their sleeves and help me refit the engine. Which they did!” Neubauer was so impressed by Linge’s determination that he offered him a job. Which, fortunately for Porsche, Linge turned down.

Herbert Linge driving the Porsche 804 at Nürburgring

Porsche mechanics give Lang a push-start aboard the 718/2 at the Nürburgring in 1959

Although based in the US until 1956, Linge made frequent trips back to Europe, including one in 1954 to co-drive with Hans Hermann in the Mille Miglia. “I’d done a lot of test driving around Stuttgart in the Spyder, so knew the car pretty well.” Linge is modest to say the least, but his ability behind the wheel must have already been noticed. In the end Hermann did all the driving, but the plan was for Linge to take a turn at the wheel if the main driver needed a break. What Linge did do was spend a week reconnoitring the course. “I made up a road book that featured only the sections that were blind – I figured I wasn’t going to be of much help to a driver of Hermann’s ability by telling him what he could see for himself. Denis Jenkinson saw it and copied it for the next year with Moss – but he had the idea of saving space by putting it on a roll of paper.

“Anyway, by Rome we were 25sec ahead. Hans was quite careful for the first few hours, but once he gained some confidence in my notes he put his foot down.”

“Neubauer told Kling and Lang to help me refit the engine. Which they did!”

Before Rome, however, came a famous Mille Miglia anecdote. The pair arrived at a rail crossing just as the Rome express was approaching. The barriers came down but Hermann judged that the 550 Spyder would just slip underneath and, with his right hand pushed down on Linge’s head, they just cleared the barrier.

“We had a bit of a problem later when the car came to a halt. Hans was ready to pack up but I quickly realised that the rain had got to the distributor so I dried it out and wrapped it in tape.”

Herbert Linge with Porsche racing drivers at the circuit

During production of the 1970 movie Le Mans. 4th from left Gérard Larrousse, 5th from left David Piper, 7th from left Steve McQueen, 8th from left Derek Bell, 2nd from right Linge

Hermann and Linge won their class. Linge’s contribution hadn’t gone unnoticed, and was he asked to co-drive for rally ace Helmut Polensky in that year’s Liège-Rome-Liège rally in a four-cam-engined Gmünd coupé with a lowered roof. “It was called a rally,” says Linge, “but the organisers set stage times so tight that it was essentially a race.” To give the driver a break on the 3100-mile event, the co-driver would share the driving. Polensky and Linge won it outright.

That Linge’s working life involved driving and testing all Porsche’s cars – including the competition models – doesn’t entirely explain his ability behind the wheel. He must also have had a large chunk of natural talent. “I used to race motorbikes, which was a big help,” explains Linge. “In fact, I remember Wolfgang Von Trips showing me a photograph of a motorcycle sprint in Weissach in the mid 1940s that he had competed in. I said I was riding at that meeting but didn’t remember seeing his name. ‘You wouldn’t have done,’ said Trips. ‘I was riding under another name so that my parents wouldn’t find out.’”

In 1955 Linge’s career as a driver took off with a class win at the Nürburgring 500Km in an experimental Spyder. The next year he partnered Huschke von Hanstein in a 550 Spyder at the Sebring 12 hours. “We actually borrowed the car from Briggs Cunningham,” says Linge. “It was brand new and hadn’t even been delivered. Imagine that, borrowing someone’s new car and then doing a 12-hour endurance race and handing it back afterwards.”

In 1958 Linge entered his first Le Mans driving with Carel de Beaufort in a 1.5-litre 550 Spyder. “It rained, which was a big help because we had very narrow tyres on the car because of its swing axles. We finished second in class and fifth overall.”

The next year was even more successful, with a second place at the Targa Florio. “I had to be pretty careful about the racing because I didn’t want my colleagues to say ‘Oh, Linge just wants to go racing and not work’ so the racing very much took second place. Often von Hanstein [who was in charge of the racing department as well as PR] would say, if he was short of a driver, ‘Linge has always got his helmet with him, go and find him.’”

He might not have raced every Porsche, but Linge certainly drove them all: “I didn’t like single-seaters. Watching the front wheels wobbling about really put me off. People would say ‘But Linge, they do the same on the sports cars that you are happy to drive’, but in a sports car they were hidden and I couldn’t see them doing it.”

Linge was at the Nürburgring in early 1962 when Joakim Bonnier was testing the new eight-cylinder 804 F1 car. The Swede hadn’t managed to get it around any quicker than the previous year’s four-cylinder 718, which he wanted to retain. Linge had a go and went substantially quicker, which was a choker for Bonnier. Then Dan Gurney had a go and did a blindingly fast lap. Gurney is Linge’s favourite driver (alongside his friend Hans Hermann).

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“Years later I saw Dan at some event and he said, ‘Herbert, do you know why I was so quick at the ’Ring in the F1 car that day? Because I was scared stiff that you would do to me what you did to Bonnier.’”

By the early 1960s Porsche’s racing workshop had a staff of 200, led by Linge. It was the beginning of the end of the era of Porsche the minnow and the start of another: the Piëch era. “Ferdinand Piëch was a hard taskmaster but once you had his respect he was fine to work with,” remembers Linge. “There was no going home early with him. He’d come around and say, ‘What are you going to do all evening if you go home early? You might as well stay at work.’”

With such a large staff, Linge’s racing activities had to be cut back. Not so much, however, that his name doesn’t pepper results sheets from the golden years of sports car racing, with a second place at the 1964 Targa Florio and a consistent record at Le Mans, usually well up the field.

In 1969 Linge got the chance to drive a 917 at Le Mans. Private entrant John Woolfe had bought the first customer 917, which he was going to drive in the race with fellow Brit Digby Martland. Martland, who was successful in Chevron sports cars, wisely backed away, recognising that the mighty Porsche would be a bit too much to handle.

“I didn’t want my colleagues saying ‘Oh, Linge just wants to go racing and not work.’”

“Woolfe’s car was hardly running at the start of practice,” says Linge. “It had no performance at all yet you couldn’t hear it misfiring. In the garage that evening, when we had the engine running, we saw sparks arcing around the distributor cap. We put a new cap on and the engine ran on full power. That just left us the worry about Woolfe’s ability to drive such a fast car. I’d replaced Martland and Piëch tried very hard to persuade Woolfe to not drive. The aerodynamics were so wrong that on the Mulsanne Straight you could hear the rear tyres spinning in fifth gear. Woolfe was determined to drive and unfortunately was killed at White House.”

Piëch finally gave Linge an ultimatum: driving seat or workshop. “Not a difficult decision,” says Linge. “I was already in my forties so my career as a driver was coming to a close anyway.” Linge did drive one more big race, however. At Le Mans in 1970 he shared a Porsche 908 with Jonathan Williams. That the pair finished ninth was quite an achievement, because the 908 was the camera car entered by Steve McQueen’s Solar Productions for filming footage of the race. “We had to stop many more times than other cars to have the film changed in the cameras,” says Linge.

Herbert Linge pictured during his long Porsche racing career

Clockwise from top left: Targa Florio 1963, Linge in a 356 B Carrera GS. He and Edgar Barth would finish third and win the GT class; Linge enjoyed a long and prosperous career with Porsche before retiring in 1988. He died in January 2024 at the age of 95; Linge with his safety car innovation, which is now a sporting essential; with a 1973 911 Carrera RSR 2.8

Porsche’s racing department continued to grow in the 1970s and ’80s until eventually Linge had 800 employees under him. He retired in 1988, but was asked back to start the Carrera Cup series. After which he retired for good.

An incredible career. From working on Panzers in the Second World War to a class win in the Mille Miglia. And, of course, overseeing the building of dozens of incredible Porsche racing cars.

But there is one other achievement which has nothing to do with Porsche and for which the name Herbert Linge should never be forgotten. Like many, Linge was horrified by the regular loss of life in racing and how, especially at places like Le Mans, the field might pass the site of an accident once or twice before help arrived.

Linge’s solution was a ’safety car’ equipped with fire equipment, a doctor and a quick driver to reach the scene of the accident rapidly. In 1972 Linge got Porsche to supply a 914/6 for the job – which was then equipped with a foam sprayer and tools – and he drove it. Almost immediately the idea was justified when at an Interserie race Herbie Müller’s Porsche tangled with a McLaren. Linge and a doctor were on the scene promptly to attend to the drivers.

Linge also took the nascent safety car to an F2 race at Hockenheim, where it was seen by Bernie Ecclestone. “Bernie immediately wanted a safety car for F1 and for two years paid for one out of his own pocket. For three years I drove the safety car with Professor Sid Watkins beside me.”

Porsche is a funny company. My local Porsche ‘centre’ will sell you a teddy bear wearing a racing suit, but you can’t buy Linge’s biography, which was independently published and only available in German. Porsche should release it in the language of every country in which its cars are sold.

The book contains a picture of a young Herbert showing Ferdinand Porsche a cylinder head (previous spread). It is the first Porsche cylinder head ever made – the perfect illustration of Linge’s incalculable contribution to the Porsche legend.

Special Issue Contents Archive - Motor Sport Magazine

Porsche’s winning formula: lightness, reliability and relentless development

If these two could talk…

Most classic cars have a brilliant tale or two to go with them, but the provenance of the duo sat glinting under a silver-grey sky in the Essex countryside would be matched by very, very few.

We’re gazing in awe at two Porsche 356 with histories like no other. These beautifully restored Stuttgart machines once belonged respectively to Jim Clark, arguably the greatest racing driver of all time, and Denis Jenkinson, arguably the greatest motor sport journalist of all time.

Rear details of two Porsche 356s

The 356s today

Klemantaski Collection/Getty Images

The pair rubbed shoulders regularly as they traversed Europe in the late 1950s during racing’s golden era, Clark taking his early steps on the international scene and ‘Jenks’ being there to report on it in his own inimitable style as Motor Sport’s continental correspondent. On one occasion they even pitted Porsche against Porsche by both entering the 1958 Silverstone 6 Hours Relay.

Our scribbler’s ice blue 356 was his ‘man-on-the-move’ calling card, and Clark’s former car was advertised in the pages of this very magazine as his “old friend” passed from one owner to another. Thus, the two cars are indelibly linked with Motor Sport’s story too.

Clark’s ivory white Porsche has probably the greatest sporting provenance of any 356: he took his first official race victory in it, and from there just couldn’t stop winning. It was the pliable racing tool the F1 legend used to announce himself to the world.

Jim Clark standing beside a Porsche 356

Graham Hill with pal Jenks and his Porsche

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The two cars are now owned by enthusiast Tom Pead, who has lovingly restored them to pristine racing condition. Both recently competed at Goodwood.

“I felt the Jim Clark car was the important 356, certainly in Europe, and the Jenks car was almost equal to that – so I thought I’d be greedy and have both!” he jokes, before adding, “And to keep them both here in the UK, which was equally as important.”

The Scot’s 356A (rather than a later B or C series) was placed on order in December 21, 1956 and left Stuttgart on April 2, 1957. Chassis 100017, with registration UUL 442, was first purchased from London Porsche dealer AFN by the famous 1950s band leader Billy Cotton of Red Red Robin fame for £2019.

Group gathered beside a Porsche 356 at a race meeting

Patricia Burke (Denis Jenkinson’s then girlfriend), Jim Clark, Ian Scott Watson, Eddie Portman, Jack Burke and Jenks, 1958 Silverstone 6 Hours Relay Race – note Clark and Jenks’ Porsche 356s.

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Ever one to keep busy, Cotton was a keen amateur racer who finished fourth at the 1949 British Grand Prix in between his musical engagements, as well as turning out for Brentford Football Club.

Not being a small man, Cotton had a 75bhp Super engine installed into his 356 (therefore making it a 1600cc ‘Super’) to help get his considerable weight from racing’s A to B quicker. Its next owner found that the shocks had been worn down on the passenger side…

“Clark and Jenks rubbed shoulders regularly as they traversed Europe in racing’s golden era”

That person was Ian Scott Watson, who bought the 356 second-hand (again from AFN) in May 1957 so it could be raced by his friend and racing protégé Jim Clark – then aged 21.

In June the previous year at Aberdeenshire’s Crimond circuit, the young sheep farmer had immediately impressed in Scott Watson’s DKW Sonderklasse, lapping 3sec quicker than its owner.

Denis Jenkinson beside a Porsche 356

Grabbing some z’s: Motor Sport’s DSJ drove his 356 – and pen – hard as he crossed Europe

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Upon purchasing the 356, Scott Watson was first entered into the Border Motor Racing Club’s first ever meeting at Charterhall in Berwickshire. At the three races held during that event on October 5, 1957, all behind the wheel of the Porsche, Clark finished third, second and then claimed his first ever race win in the ‘big one’, the BMRC Trophy.

“The Porsche was fabulous in the wet, enabling me to beat the Healey 100S-types which I would not have expected to,” Clark humbly commented later.

With encouragement and help from its original founder Jock McBain, Scott Watson revived the Border Reivers team name as a platform for the prodigious Clark, after it had initially shuttered in 1956. Border reivers (or raiders) were the medieval bandits who plundered and pillaged along the Anglo-Scottish borders.

Classic Porsche 356 dashboard with period Telefunken radio

Would Jenks have tuned in to the radio as he whipped across European borders?

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Clark, Scott Watson, McBain and fellow driver Jimmy Somervail were hoping to channel that marauding spirit through campaigning the 356A and a Jaguar D-type they also bought.

Clark and Scott Watson would usually travel in the Porsche itself, driving from one event to the other as the young prodigy then used the car to rack up club race wins. No special race tyres, rollcage or seatbelts were involved. It was just the 356 as it was.

In May 1958, the Borders ace became the first sports car driver in Britain to lap a circuit at over 100mph, doing so en route to victory in the D-type at Full Sutton, a former RAF airbase in East Yorkshire.

Classic Porsche 356 dashboard with period Telefunken radio

The blazing trail continued a few weeks later, as the future F1 legend then took part in his first international races at the 1958 Spa-Francorchamps Grand Prix. He finished fifth in a support race in the 356 and eighth overall in the main event.

Towards the end of 1958 Clark then bought the 356 from Scott Watson, so the latter could afford to buy the former a Lotus Elite to compete in also.

The young Reiver would continue to both race and drive the 356 as his international career took off, with Stirling Moss and other famous colleagues of the day often enjoying hair-raising passenger rides.

Porsche 356 engine, interior and driver name details

Both cars, now fully restored, have appeared on track at Goodwood

Such were Clark’s and Borders Reivers’ on-track exploits in the 356 that the marque’s racing boss Huschke von Hanstein invited Scott Watson to the Stuttgart factory. There he presented him with a silver model of a 356 on a banked circuit.

“The young Reiver would race the 356 as his career took off”

As ‘run-what-you-brung’ entries go, surely Clark’s 356 has the ultimate provenance. After chalking up 80,000 miles in UUL 442, he would sell the car for £500 in November 1960. It’s thought his by-then Lotus boss Colin Chapman wasn’t massively keen on his burgeoning F1 star driving an off-brand motor, and asked him to move it on.

Historic race documents and Porsche 356 competition photographs

From left: Jenks’ 356 was bought along with a treasure trove of photographs and paperwork; UYY 34 and UUL 442 were often seen together

The future grand prix champ first deemed his rapid 356 “a big lethal motor car”, but ultimately described selling the Porsche thus: “I parted with an old friend.” After changing hands a number of times, the car would reappear for sale again in the May 1969 edition of Motor Sport, before ending up in a Birkenhead scrapyard. It was rescued in 1979 by enthusiast Nick Mayman who was looking for 356 spares until he realised what he had found (and bought for £30!), before Tom Pead and his friend Mike Smith took it on with the intention of a restoration to its Clark-era glory.

While Clark was cutting his teeth on the racing scene, Motor Sport’s Denis Jenkinson was forging his own path in his 356 Super – and competing in it too. Criss-crossing Europe at speed to cover the continent’s greatest races, the cars he took on his adventures became stars in their own right too. They were something Jenks couldn’t do without.

Classic Porsche interior with red seats and vintage dashboard

Brake efficiency indicator in Jenks’ 356

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In the UK he nipped around in his self-christened ‘Crondall Flyer’ Morris Minor – named after the Hampshire village in which Jenks resided – and on European trips he became synonymous with his Jaguar E-type in the ’60s. Before that though, the much-travelled reporter was indelibly linked with his ice blue Porsche 356. “I find it hard to extract pleasure from other forms of motoring to the same degree,” he wrote of the Stuttgart pocket rocket.

Jenks bought his 356 in 1955, the year of his Mille Miglia triumph with Stirling Moss. He requested it in absolute base specification – apart from a sunroof for the transcontinental blasts – but immediately upgraded the 1500cc engine to a ‘Super’ 1600 version (like Clark’s) and altered the front suspension too.

“Jenks did away with the bumpers and added aluminium pieces,” says Pead, who purchased the car in 2015. “He had an aero screen added to it, so you can still see marks in the bonnet from the holes. When it left the factory it had spotlights, and they disappeared too – Jenks put it on a weight-loss programme when he was doing hillclimbs and sprints.

Jim Clark’s Porsche 356 shown racing and with its restored interior

From left: ‘Continental’, as befits our continental correspondent; Jenks on track; Clark’s Porsche with British Racing Green interior.

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“He actually changed the gear lever and accelerator pedal because he was only 5ft tall – but I had to put those back to the original specification as I’m 6ft!”

Jenks wasn’t afraid to rough-up his 356 at the time, but Pead has made sure that’s all been (largely) smoothed out.

“In period Jenks was hard on the car,” he says. “Pretty much every panel was bashed in. So we found all the original bits that he wrote about. I didn’t want to start losing all the history [so as a result] you can still see some of the marks on it.”

In fact, Jenks lists so many issues with the car in his Porsche 356 book from 1980 – as a result of running it so hard – it’s a wonder it’s still around today.

“After using the car for some 30,000 miles of European touring I began to use it for competition purposes, in club events at sprints and hillclimbs, with the 6-Hour Relay Race and a 500-kilometre rally on the Nürburgring thrown in for good measure,” the writer recalled. “It is difficult to say whether the car was driven harder in competitions than it was on the roads of France, Italy and Sicily. Certainly I reached the limit of its road-holding (i.e. spinning gracefully) in the mountains of Calabria as well as at Silverstone.”

Jenks’ most notorious appearance in the 356 came at that above-mentioned 6-Hour Silverstone Relay in 1958, in which Clark raced also. It was won by the Speedwell team’s Austin A35 – when Graham Hill was driving.

“Jenkinson, this year with 1600 Super engine in his Porsche, had hit a drum, done some ploughing and spun at Woodcote in upholding Porsche honour,” commented editor Bill Boddy on the mid-race progress.

Jenks would trade in the 356 for an E-type in 1962, the Porsche changing hands several times before finding its way to Pead. Both cars really have been a labour of love for someone passionate about Clark and Jenks. Smith and Pead acquired the Clark car in November 1999. They were suddenly in a rush to get the restoration underway when invited to run the car for a Clark memorial at the 2000 Goodwood Revival, and managed to complete it in under eight months.

“Jenks bought his 356 in 1955, the year of his Mille Miglia triumph”

They appealed via Porsche enthusiast clubs and networks for unused (or at least little-used) components which could replace those beyond the pale on Clark’s car. The bodyshell was sent to Sportwagen in Southend, where a painstaking process was undertaken to get it back into shape. The 1.5-litre engine was rehabilitated by specialist Barry Curtis in Watford. The Clark 356 also has its Border Reivers stickers on either side – the sort of touch that shows the passion of its custodian. Meanwhile, the Jenks Porsche went on a similarly chequered journey after the journalist traded it in.

“The guy I bought it off had started trying to restore it,” Pead says. “He was a welder by trade, he made metal gates, and it showed in the work! The car was a mess. It was complete and driveable, but appalling. On the plus side, it had the original engine and gearbox, apart from some rusty bits of bodywork the previous owner had tried to weld on. It took 18 months to restore. Apart from the bodywork, I did everything. Every part cleaned, polished, sanded, and I tried not to replace anything I didn’t need to. All the paintwork on the dashboard, the steering wheel… all original.”

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The Jenks 356 made its racing return at the 2023 Goodwood Members’ Meeting, an experience Pead describes as “worrying”, but it held together. The Clark Porsche was a key part of a recent Goodwood parade which marked his incredible 1965 racing season.

Catching the sharp light of the sky, there’s an aura about these 356s which sets them apart. Historic racing veteran Robert Barrie, who has competed in the Jenks car at Goodwood on behalf of Pead, articulates just what it is that gives these 356s personality: “There’s something about those cars: it’s the aesthetic, it’s the engineering, even down to the noises they make, the driving position, just the small details. They are great examples of engineering. It’s a fabulous shape, unthreatening. It almost looks like a UFO.

“It’s not the fastest thing on four wheels. But if you did want, as Jenks and Clark did, to criss-cross Europe for miles and miles, that thing stands a very good chance of getting you to where you’re going.”