The security guard steps into the pool
of light outside his cabin. He raises the barrier and
waves the cars to follow him as he walks forward to open
the perimeter steel gates. Behind him, the 911 trundles
slowly along. It feels like driving a racing car into
a holding area. The clutch is sharp and the engine rattles
at idle like a broken toy. Even at crawling speeds you're
jiggled and bounced around inside the cabin.
Porsche has a theory that no matter how bad things get,
it's the specialist sports car car makers who will survive,
not the manufacturers who turn out drab little boxes for
something as mundane as personal transport. The German company
believes that even if one day all cars are banned from the
road, people will buy sports cars and drive them simply
for pure pleasure.
And the GT3 is halfway
down that road already, even more so with the Club Sport
package that comes with Recaro racing seats, a roll-cage
and an interior battery cut-off switch. But despite its
racetrack set-up, this 911 is still free to travel the
Queen's Highway. And we know where there are some cracking
bits of it that have yet to fall under the Gatso's shadow.
As the last car rolls out, the security guard shuts the
gates and leaves us outside in the dark, with four cars quick
enough to outrun the devil himself. The Porsche feels keen
to be off, to the point of nervous agitation, its rattly idling
engine making the seats and steering wheel vibrate. Inside
the BMW
business-class cabin, all feels calm until you squeeze the
accelerator pedal and flick the rev-counter up to 3,000rpm
- it's then the V8 signals its intention with a great growl
of power, strong enough to shake the left-hand side of the
bonnet. The Skyline
feels alive inside too, but not in a raw animal way. It idles
quietly, but all the time its multi-mode dash-top computer
flickers away, showing seven different readings
simultaneously, from boost pressure to exhaust temperature.
As it checks and rechecks ist data in preparation for the
charge to come, you get the unsettling feeling that it has
almost enough technology to run itself and dis-pense with
the driver completely.
Little happens inside the
Evo's cabin to hint at the immense performance
about to be unleashed. But give it the full rally start
- it'll take 6,000rpm before the clutch is dropped - and
it launches itself through the air with a viciousness
of an assassin's switchblade. Through first, second and
third gears, which come up so quickly in the close-ratio
gearbox, the acceleration is lethal. It's almost Porsche-shaming
and with a few spits of rain on the ground there would
be no question - the Evo's four-wheel-drive system would
see to that.
But the night is dry and the Porsche has power and,
weighing just 1,350kg, lightness is on its side. There is
no traction control, though, so it can't be lobbed off the
line like the Evo. Steady the revs out just above 2,000rpm,
drop the clutch
and - if you use the throttle just right to balance the
engine's power against the tyre's traction - the 911 will
rocket forward into the darkness and nothing else will live
with it.
The Evo runs it close, and up to 60mph
it's just one tenth of a second behind the GT3. Most of
the time the Mitsubishi's hard-stressed engine is surprisingly
quiet inside the cabin, and it certainly can't compete
with 911's guttural wail. By the time 120mph comes up
on the speedo, though, the Evo is starting to feel like
a spent force, while the GT3 is still a howling, screaming
streak of acceleration.
Compared with the manic approach of Porsche's straight-six,
the BMW's
V8 is a deep well of tranquility. Unlike the 911, it comes
with traction control, but when it's switched off the M5
requires the same delicate throttle balance for quick getaways.
Up to 4,000rpm it's very refined, but above that the thunder
starts with a deep-throated growl. The M5's V8 serves up
a never-ending supply of torque. It's not the quickest-revving
engine, but while the rev-counter needle may not slice rapidly
round, the speedometer needle does, sweeping into treble
figures with effortless ease.
This
1,795kg saloon may post the slowest 0-60 time, but do not
mistake it for a slow car. Study the spec table for a while
and you'll see it matches the Evo from 30-70mph through
the gears, gives the best in-gear acceleration and is second
fastest to 140mph.
The M5 is not just phenomenally
quick for a big four-door saloon, it's simply phenomenally
quick - full stop.
So too, of course, is the beast from Nissan
which, keen students of the apocalypse may wish to note,
weighs in at 1,666kg. As with the Evo, the best technique
is tons of revs and off the clutch as quickly as possible.
The Skyline's continuously variable
four-wheel-drive system ensures that all the power is
normally delivered to the rear wheels and only transferred
forwards when needed, so it takes off from the line feeling
more like a rear-wheel-drive car. Up to 4,000rpm the engine
feels disappointingly flat and lifeless, but above that,
when both turbos cut in, it truly comes alive. It sounds
good too - not as snarly as the Porsche, but equally addictive
in its own way.
The performance of all four is little short of electrifying.
Sure, if we were driving on German autobahns the 911 would
simply run away with it, but on British roads these cars
are all staggeringly good - all wheat and no chaff. And
how fast they feel. It really seems that since we left the
proving ground they have all doubled their horsepower. A
sharp burst of the throttle in any of them sets the black
hedgerows rushing by, and it feels so much more invigorating
than running the
near-flat-out on the two-mile-long Bruntingthorpe straight.
It's the narrow-ness of the roads, the corners and the trees
that give the reference points and make the performance
such a buzz.
We're not talking about going mental here,
just cracking along at a crisp pace on uncluttered roads.
The commuters have long since gone to bed, the tractors
are tucked away and won't be doing any more work until tomorrow
morning's sun has burned the dew off. But the going is just
fine for us.
