{"id":9924,"date":"2014-07-07T18:23:58","date_gmt":"2014-07-07T17:23:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.motorsportmagazine.com\/issue_content\/porsche-911-carrera-rs\/"},"modified":"2020-12-04T10:36:33","modified_gmt":"2020-12-04T10:36:33","slug":"porsche-911-carrera-rs","status":"publish","type":"issue_content","link":"https:\/\/www.motorsportmagazine.com\/archive\/article\/september-2010\/122\/porsche-911-carrera-rs\/","title":{"rendered":"Porsche 911 Carrera RS"},"content":{"rendered":"
It inspired a generation of cars, proved extremely useful on track, road and stage \u2013 and is now worth a fortune<\/strong><\/p>\n What\u2019s in a name? Rather a lot as it happens. Automobile manufacturers blow millions on think tanks brimmed to the top with chin-stroking thesaurus-wielders, but to what end? All they usually do is raid the clich\u00e9 cupboard or invent some spellcheck-bothering, typographically \u2018witty\u2019 name where random capitalisation and the substitution of numerals for letters are deemed perfectly valid. All of which is borderline tolerable on automotive white goods, but sports cars, supercars \u2013 the exalted stuff \u2013 deserve better. Excited about McLaren\u2019s latest road car? Now try saying MP4-12C without nodding off. Having to utter the word \u2018hyphen\u2019 doesn\u2019t help. Hmm, sexy.<\/p>\n But Carrera? Well that\u2019s an entirely different ballgame. Before Porsche began applying the tag indiscriminately, it once served as seven-letter shorthand for \u2018road-going competition tool\u2019. But then \u2018carrera\u2019 is Spanish for \u2018race\u2019 after all, the melli\ufb02uous tag being borrowed from the Mexican Carrera Panamericana endurance thrash in which Porsche proved its mettle before the event was canned in 1954. The marque\u2019s best result was Hans Herrmann\u2019s incredible third overall and class win in the \ufb01fth and \ufb01nal running, the name being applied to the \ufb01rst of its quad-cam 356s a year later.<\/p>\n Fast-forward to the \u201970s and the formula was followed, the recipe replicated and another pokey Porsche came to rede\ufb01ne the sports car ideal. The difference this time was that the 2.7 Carrera RS still stacked up as a toweringly capable point-to-point road car. Obviously it wasn\u2019t the \ufb01rst Porsche 911. It wasn\u2019t even the \ufb01rst competition variant, but this was the \ufb01rst truly great all-round sub-species. The bewildering iterations of GT2s and GT3s that seem to emerge on a weekly basis have umbilical connection with the original Renn Sport Carrera. This template-setting machine may lack for power and absolute grip by comparison, but for sheer poise, dexterity and entertainment value it remains king of the hill by some margin. It might be old, but it still has the moves. <\/p>\n Porsche annexed most of the endurance classics during the early \u201970s, but rule changes effectively dammed the tide with the 917 seeing out its days in Can-Am\/Interserie form. The \ufb01rm needed a new car in its armoury for the World Sportscar Championship, the RS being essentially a lightweight version of the regular 911 2.4S. Head of development Dr Helmuth Bott recognised that the regular car was too heavy for competition use and was being out-muscled in the GT categories by the Ferrari Daytona \u2018Competizione\u2019 and the intermittently reliable De Tomaso Pantera on tracks where power trumped nimbleness. There was also the small matter of aerodynamics. A road-going 911S was \u2013 and remains \u2013 a \ufb01ne car, but even with a small nose-mounted air dam it suffered from excessive lift at high speed. Combine this with the 40:60 front-to-rear weight bias thanks to the air-cooled six being slung way out back and it could be a snappy oversteerer. <\/p>\n Though not exactly a heifer, the 2.4S underwent a dieting regime for the RS makeover, with thinner gauge metal for the doors, roof, front bonnet and wings among other areas. Similarly, skinnier glass was used all round and the hefty sound-deadening material was deleted. As was the under-seal, just to keep welders entertained in the future. Inside it was more of the same. By de\ufb01nition Porsches were always on the stark side, but the Carrera\u2019s cockpit was home to rubber mats, hip-hugging Recaro buckets and not much else, the rear \u2018seats\u2019 being bound for the skip. <\/p>\n And then there was the engine. The proven 2.4S unit now housed new cylinder barrels (15 rather than 11 cooling \ufb01ns), but that wasn\u2019t the big news. The bores received a layer of nickel-silicon carbide, deposited via electrolysis. This process, known as Nickasil, had \ufb01rst been tried out on the 917 and in this instance resulted in an engine displacement spike to 2687cc (from 2341cc) with an unchanged stroke of 70.4mm. These and umpteen detail-driven changes led to a useful 210bhp at 6300rpm and 188lb ft of torque at 5100rpm. Suspension mods amounted to Bilstein front struts in place of Konis, bee\ufb01er anti-roll bars and extra bracing around the rear suspension arms.<\/p>\n Visually, changes were subtle but striking, the most obvious identi\ufb01ers being the fatter rear arches, widened to accommodate 7in rims. Those and the ducktail \u2013 or rather Burzel \u2013 spoiler on the glassfibre engine lid which provided much-needed downforce. And then there was the range of colours. Porsche used to get the visuals oh so right, be it promotional material or its fab race posters. Initially offered only in Grand Prix White, there soon followed all manner of lurid hues (although no metallics) from Viper Green to Gulf Blue with the famous Carrera side-flashes becoming a marque constant in years to come. Ironically, they were once deemed a little too outr\u00e9 in certain circles and some customers in period plumped for the delete option. Try \ufb01nding one now without them.<\/p>\n And this being a homologation special, it wasn\u2019t meant to be a volume seller. Its main purpose was to pave the way for the fabulous RSR and 3.0RS models; returning a profit was secondary. The firm\u2019s sales department certainly wasn\u2019t convinced it could shift the requisite 500 cars that needed to be built for Group 4 (Special Grand Touring Cars) eligibility. So much so, some were given to senior personnel as company cars \u2013 and this wasn\u2019t seen as a perk. However, the hoopla that greeted the Carrera\u2019s launch at the 1972 Paris Motor Show, during which 500 orders were taken in a week, prompted a rethink: some 1580 were built in 1972-73 in batches of around 500 units, which meant it became eligible for Group 3 (Production Grand Touring Cars) competition, too. Double bubble. <\/p>\n Of these, just 111 came to Great Britain in right-hand-drive configuration, with 17 being proper lightweights. Predictably, not everyone wanted austere efficiency, Porsche responding with the Touring version which featured some sound deadening, a rear seat-cum-foldable luggage shelf and lots of other weight- adding stuff. And predictably there were deviations between Tourings, with UK cars tending to have more lavish specifications than their Continental counterparts, many receiving electric windows and a sunroof. In total, some 1308 Tourings emerged from Weissach, the extra heft resulting in a kerb weight of a still not exactly lardy 1075kg compared to 960kg for the stripped edition.<\/p>\n Almost inevitably, a smitten motoring media poured forth a torrent of purple gush, Autocar breathlessly trumpeting the RS Touring as being \u2018sensational even by Porsche standards\u2019. And that was just in the article heading. No stranger to Porsche ownership himself, with many a 356 mile under his tyres, Motor Sport\u2019s own Denis Jenkinson was rather more measured; he found the suspension a bit on the hard side, and the gear change a little notchy, but judged the RS to be \u2018an incredibly honest motor car.\u2019<\/p>\n