GT3 Diaries

May 2019: not so many miles

I have a problem.

I’m the type of person who feels supremely self-conscious public, especially when sat in cars of the conspicuous type. I much rather be driving in something totally non-descript and blend in with the rest of the traffic. Unfortunately that ethos goes completely against the wonts of car enthusiasts, where the automobiles we love and adore are by default atypical to the masses of drab family sedans and sports utility vehicles. The whole point is to stand out, a double-edged sword for me due to my innate introvert tendencies.

The cars I’ve owned previously have certainly not helped the cause.

A Subaru WRX STI immediately assault the senses with its giant wing spoiler planted on the rear trunk. Thanks to the Fast and Furious franchise, the common folks have been conditioned to look at these (some would say) needless appendages with at best, mild scorn, at worst, great disdain. The STI’s giant rear wing is a signaling device, letting others on the road know that the driver of this car have a high chance of being an abrasive asshole. The STI’s exhaust note doesn’t help things, either: the classic boxer rumble may sound sweet to my ears, but it’s loud and obnoxious to others, and coincidently operates at just the correct noise frequency to trip many a car alarm whenever I drove through a parking lot.

Sorry.

Then I went and bought a convertible, which is even worse for my condition: I’m entirely exposed to the elements, and more devastatingly, the prying and judgmental eyes of other drivers. A Mazda MX-5 Miata innately stands out as a tiny sports car in a sea of SUV monstrosities, and with the top down, it really grabs attention. I was so conscious of outside people that I made sure to not play music over a certain volume threshold when the top was down, otherwise risk disturbing their sensibilities, or worse, they might criticize my love for Korean pop music.

My stress had reached an apex where towards the latter half of ownership, I hardly ever went open-air in the MX-5. The convertible top was my shield against the world.

I must be a sick masochist then because now we arrived at my current vehicle, the central topic of this vertical: the Porsche 911 GT3. For someone who very much wishes to escape into the anonymity of traffic, the 991 is just about the closest antithesis, short of buying something exotic from Italy. People are going to notice me in the Porsche, and short of parking it long term and never putting on miles, it’s a challenge I have to deal with.

I’ve read that to conquer your fears you must face them head on; I can’t afford a Lamborghini Huracan, so the GT3 will have to suffice as the medium. So what’s it like driving around in public in a junior supercar?

It’s been said the Porsche 911 is the gentleman’s sports car, the one to buy if standing out in a crowd is not your taste. The iconic shape that’s been with us for nearly six decades have entered into the public’s subconscious, whereby you wouldn’t particularly notice if one drove by. Indeed a wedge-shaped Ferrari more readily stands out, not only because it’s likely to be painted in a shade of rosso (as it should, honestly), but of its relative rarity compared to the legions of similar-looking 911s sold over the years. On every drive I am bound to encounter another 911 on the road; any model of Ferrari? Not so much.

The incognito sports car theory may apply to “regular” variants of the 911, but from my albeit still brief experience, it certainly does not apply to the GT3. Firstly, buying a copy that isn’t painted in a shade of silver, black, or white portends great noticeability when mixed within traffic, and Sapphire Blue Metallic simply gleams in the sunshine after an appropriate detail job. It’s definitely not to the eye-catching (and searing) levels of a Racing Yellow, but because American consumers have no sense of color taste for their cars beyond the fifty shades of grayscale, a shiny blue thing absolutely stands out.

Though even had I bought the car in black, the GT3’s exhaust note gives away any hope of stealth. It’s a very loud car, not in an obnoxious way, mind you, but to the average person there probably isn’t any difference between the sound from one of the best atmospheric engines ever produced and a 90’s era Honda Civic with an extra-large fart can exhaust attached. Loud is loud, and even without the sports setting activated for the exhaust, the GT3 announces its arrival quite succinctly. Sometimes I wish for a more hushed setting for those early morning getaways or late night returns; no need to let the neighbors know of my itinerary.

The car makes other sounds, too, that a normal car wouldn’t. Again, to me they sound delicious in a very motorsport fashion, but to the laymen, utility and reason is utterly lost. The superior brakes are mighty in stopping the GT3, but they squeal with delight as I approach a traffic intersection. The PDK gearbox is ferociously quick in full attack mode, but around town it clunks and chatters as if something is broken internally. Moving from a stop can be quite a noisy event should my right foot be of overly adequate assistance: with a bit too much input the car will lurch and engine revs will spike, as if a beginner is just learning how to drive a manual car.

It may be an iconic silhouette, but from the outside it’s immediately obvious the GT3 is no ordinary 911. The front and rear fascia is wholly different from the standard car, and far more aggressive. Then there’s the rear wing; not nearly as arresting as the unit on the STI, but it’s in-your-face all the same. It certainly gets in my face: as previously written, the GT3’s rear spoiler sits directly in the center of the already tiny aperture out of the rear windscreen, allowing entire cars to hide behind me, unnoticed.

The car’s miniscule ground clearance is also cause for potential embarrassment: look at this idiot weaving on the road (to avoid potholes) and taking slight inclines at an extreme angle and at such a slow pace, too (to avoid scraping the front lip spoiler).

Needless to say, the GT3 is a super obvious car, more so than the STI or the Miata, and it’s something I had to learn to deal with as I immediately become the center of attention everywhere I go.

To my great surprise, other cars on the road are quite friendly towards the Porsche, perhaps an acknowledge of the GT3’s speed potential. On the local mountain roads I’ve driven on for years, never before have the mundane cars in front me be so eager to yield position at the earliest turnout opportunity. The stubborn few who aren’t so nice are quickly dispatched with as soon as we reach a straight bit of road (with suitable passing lines, of course). On local city roads, other drivers give me an equally wide berth, which is lovely, I have to say.

It seems that while the 911 GT3 absolutely stands out in a crowd, the general opinion towards 911 drivers skew very positive. The lack of antagonism from other drivers sure is a nice feeling, and it does alleviate a good deal of my social anxiety. I certainly don’t feel like a jackass driving it, which contrasts with say driving any BMW, or a Nissan Altima. Indeed, the model of car you drive have an influence – good or bad - towards how other drivers on the road perceive you. Fair or unfair, the human mind loves these sort of mental shortcuts to quickly judge a situation. It’s about survival: if I see an Altima coming up rapidly behind in the rear-view mirror, I am for sure moving the heck out of the way.

So I’m happy the GT3 has an overall positive effect on others, and while I didn’t buy the car for that purpose, it’s always nice boost to the ego when I get thumbs-up from others on the road. I’ve also seen pedestrians take out their phones for a quick photograph, and one time returning to the parked car after grocery shopping, I “caught” a middle-aged couple posing in front of the car for pictures.

In that perspective, the good response from others have certainly helped my stress of being in public and not blending in. The work to lessen that stress continues on, and the GT3 provides a solid training ground. My anxiety gets to its most acute at a busy gas station, with me standing next to the car, waiting for the pump to fill the relatively enormous 23-gallon tank. While plenty of people in my shoe would feel a sense of “look at me” pride, I’m merely counting down the seconds until I can get in the car and disappear again.

Like I said, a work in progress. Do you have similar introversion and public aversion? Buy a junior supercar!

As expected, the amount of mileage this month is down dramatically due some expectedly busy weekends. It’s just as well because California gas prices have gone insane, and not having to fill up too many times with 91-octane at $4.50 is a relief. In fact I only filled up once during May, the fewest in a month since I bought the car.

For one of those busy weekends I flew to Dallas for my good friend’s graduation, and I’d be remised if I didn’t make a comment on how vastly cheaper gasoline is in the great State of Texas, by nearly two dollars compared to communist California. Not to mention the highest octane available in Texas – and most other sane States in America – is 93. Just once I wish I could feed the GT3 the optimal quality of gas and have a go in it with the engine at its best potential. There’s a few stations here in California that sells 100-octane, though if I’m grumbling about gas prices at four dollars, I’m not about to then fill up with super high octane at nearly 10 for a gallon.

With such low miles this month, there wasn’t much new revelation to be had with the GT3. Even on the occasions I took the car out, I only had the time to do a few highway runs. It was more for the purposes of not letting the car sit, rather than going out to enjoy and explore. Which explains why I’ve finally managed to beat the EPA estimate for miles-per-gallon (city) month, a somewhat dubious achievement for the type of car a 911 GT3 is and represents.

In city driving, I have come to really appreciate the abilities of rear-wheel steering. Purist may bemoan a loss of absolute clarity to chassis dynamics with these helper devices, though I lack any point of reference because one I’ve yet to sample a different 911 variant, and two the GT3 is fitted with rear-wheel steer as standard. What I can readily benefit from the system is how it shortens the turning circle of the car; the amount of maneuverability is similar to the far smaller MX-5 I had previously. For the purposes of ease in navigating tight urban spaces, the GT3’s rear-wheel steer is a brilliant feature.

In the same vein of the rear-end doing something counter to the front, on a particular drive on a rainy day I found out the car will allow for quite a bit of slip angle even with the traction and stability systems left on. Coming out of corner I inadvertently got overly familiar with the gas pedal, and the rear-end lit up in response, leading to some rapid counter-steer movements before the car straightened back up again. To my surprise there were no traction lights flashing the dash, it was all just me.

Like a long and engaging novel, it’s going to take some time for me to be completely comfortable in the GT3; I’m still on the first chapter, as it goes.

Lastly I have say the Michelin Pilot Sport Cup 2 tires are fairly decent in the wet, more so than I’d expected when I initially bought the car. The GT3 isn’t nearly the handful I thought it would be in the rain, given that the Cup 2 rubber is as close to a track-focused tire possible without heading into full slicks territory – and not street legal. The immense grip in the dry is well-known, and I’m looking forward to accessing those reserves now that our region is finally heading into the dry months. I reckon I’ll still make the switch over to slightly less extreme Pilot Sport 4 tires when the Cup 2s are worn down, though I can’t be definitive until I cross that bridge.

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Date acquired: January 2019
Total mileage: 26,449
Mileage this month: 288
Costs this month: $371.84
MPG this month: 16.6 mpg

April 2019: unlucky

My first car had a manual gearbox, though that was by accident. Like most of my peers, I learned how to drive in a car with an automatic, because the driving test is difficult enough (relatively speaking) without the additional headache of rowing the gears yourself. Because of this, I didn’t know how to drive a stick at all, and on paper it would seem not so wise to learn it on a brand new car my parents have so painstakingly saved up to buy for me.

That’s not to say I didn’t ever want a manual transmission car; as a car enthusiast I relish at the opportunity. I just figured that it would be best to wait until I’m able to buy a sports car with my own earned money, post college with a proper job. As an everyday runabout that’s sure to get its dings and abuse (an 18-year-old male’s first car, what can possibly not go wrong?), an automatic gearbox is the better choice.

Except there weren’t any on the dealer lot.

With a focus towards minimizing insurance cost, coupled with the purchase propensities of Asian families, I was to either buy a Toyota Corolla or a Honda Civic. Neither had any modicum of sporting intentions, so I chose the Corolla largely due to the influence of my dad’s trusty Toyota Previa van. On the day of purchase, the only ‘S’ trim Corolla available had the five-speed manual instead of the four-speed automatic. Part wanting to get the process over with quickly, and part not knowing a thing about leveraging the Internet to buy a car, the deal was done.

It took a few days to learn the mechanics of changing my own gears, and it wasn’t without a few instances of smelly clutch. I can still remember the anxiety from starting off at a stop in first gear, feeling the immense (self-realized) pressure from the queue of cars behind me to not stall.

Before long however I got the hang of things, and thanks to the manual gearbox, driving the Corolla became much more of a joy that it would been otherwise. My subsequent two cars – WRX STI and MX-5 – were both stick-shift, with the former not even available with an automatic. For a time, I was amongst the camp of petrol heads that would never dream of owning a car without a manual transmission.

What’s so special about the manual gearbox? For some it may be in the perfect execution of the three-pedal dance; for me it’s the total control I have over the engine. How high and how much it revs is entirely up to my hands and feet. I honestly don’t care for operating the clutch pedal - it’s but a necessary component to manual box’s function. What’s most important to me is the ability to select the gears as I desire, without the intrusion of computers.

The dual-clutch PDK gearbox in the 911 GT3 is just about perfect for me.

Indeed I’m not sure I would tick box for the manual if given the option – the PDK is that spectacular. Having driven thousands of laps on the Nurburgring in racing game simulators, I’m decently familiar with operating shift paddles behind the steering wheel and shifting without a clutch pedal. My only concern was whether or not the GT3 – or any automatic gearbox worthy of consideration – can replicate the near instantaneous shift speeds I get in those video games. If an auto box’ isn’t at the very least equal to the traditional manual in that measurement, it’s got no place in a sports car I’m buying.

My worries were utterly alleviated at the first instance I executed a 1 to 2 upshift at redline in the GT3. The gearbox snapped right into the next cog without a hint of hesitation, and the exhaust bellowed a satisfying ‘whomp’ to signal the changeover. With the PDK, there’s no discernible difference compared to the equivalent manual, save for not having to physically move my feet. Should I feel nostalgic about selecting gears with a central lever, there’s provisions for doing so (baffling that Porsche got rid of the PDK lever in the 992), in the correct orientation, too: pull for up, push for down.

Most critically, the PDK will never upshift without my command: the system has no qualms about letting the tach needle hit the rev-limiter continuously - should I so chose.

Downshifts happen at similarly rapid speeds, too, and the PDK has an added bonus of automatic rev-matching. As long as there’s enough RPM headroom, the transmission will answer a downshift request. Each throttle blip is precise and syncs the gearbox to the engine with zero drama. Shifting down for no concrete reason to hear the motor blip its way through the gears is slightly antisocial but extremely cheeky fun.

If there’s one thing I do miss from a true manual gearbox, it’s the ability to perform the rev-matching with the stab of my own right foot. There’s a certain magic to judging the amount of throttle needed correctly, though admittedly it’s not my strong suit, especially on heel-toe maneuvers. Honestly I never did get super proficient in that advance manual driving technique, having not started practicing until I bought the Miata only three years prior. There were many instances of either too many revs, which gets accompanied by a complaintive chirp from the rear tires, or too few revs, where the aural complaints would emanated from the engine instead.

I’m glad there’s now a computer to do it for me.

Sacrilege to say for a “proper” car enthusiast? Perhaps; but times are changing, and technology have surpassed.

The modern automatic gearbox, in the guise of super slick dual-clutch units like the PDK, is truly the best of both worlds. It suits my preference of manual shifting with automatic clutch work superbly, and when I’m stuck in traffic, flicking the selector to ‘D’ and letting the gearbox completely do all the work is quite sublime.

I think the traditional manual still has its place: in a hot hatch, for example, the stick is still the gearbox of choice. However, in a sports car with the stature and spec-sheet of a 911 GT3, dual-clutch transmissions are the best partner. I’m perfectly content to never own another manual gearbox car again, and if that means handing in my car enthusiasts credentials, then so be it.

That said, never again is very far aways yet; it’s difficult to be definite about the future. I’ve only had the GT3 for three months, and the PDK box’ is not without its quirks. In its base automatic mode, Porsche has programmed the transmission logic severely towards economy, which explains how the GT3 manages to garner its 15/20 EPA numbers. The PDK will shift to the highest possible gear as soon as possible; excellent for slow, around town driving, but wholly inadequate for more spirited drives. Push the throttle flat to the floor, and the PDK will hesitate for a noticeable moment, as if questioning whether you’re sure you want all of the available power right now, before then dropping down a few cogs to provide the shove. Even so, the transmission will upshift again way before the redline.

There is a sport button for the PDK, which alters the shift logic to its spiciest. Problem is, PDK Sport swings the pendulum too far towards the other side of the spectrum, and I find it too extreme for public roads. Porsche’s literature states that PDK Sport should really only be used on a racing track. With the mode turned on, the gearbox will hold a lower gear commensurate with vehicle speed, even when the foot is taken off the accelerator, and it refuses to downshift unless in a braking situation; good, useful programming on a track, but for a mountain road its more frustration than thrills.

Obviously, the mode of choice for the PDK is full manual, but often times I do wish there was an automatic mode somewhere in between the save-as-much-fuel-as-possible standard and the bat-shit crazy sport setting.

Lastly, due to innate physical limitations, the PDK can at times be slow to shift. The speed of a dual-clutch system stems from the predictive quality of the secondary clutch: it’s already in the gear the computers thinks you’ll request for next. But, because it’s only capable of choosing one side of the up/down binary, there are times where the car guesses your intentions incorrectly. If I am currently in third gear, and the PDK thinks I want fourth gear next, but instead I flick the down paddle for second: the extra time it takes for the transmission to disengage fourth and jump to second produces a perceivable lag. This limitation is not the greatest of bother, though PDK is so incredibly fast most of the time that when it does arise it can be jarring.

No such limitations in a manual gearbox, of course; it can go up and down and skip cogs whichever way the driver wants, and it’ll shift as fast as the driver can coordinate its hands and feet. The dual-clutch automatic gearbox isn’t everything a manual can be, but for my purposes, Porsche’s PDK is everything I ever need from a transmission.

There isn’t much to report from the third month of GT3 ownership: mileage is down considerably due to other areas of my life encroaching on weekend driving time, even though the seasonal rain has largely subsided, which is a shame. Nevertheless, I’m simply happy there wasn’t any unforeseen incidents with the car – like the nail in the tire from last month – to divert my focus from simply driving.

The month wasn’t without drama, unluckily: on a rainy Sunday drive with some fellow enthusiasts out in the East Bay, the largest (relative) rock I’ve ever seen flicked off from a car in front right onto the upper portion of the GT3’s bonnet. A damper on what was otherwise fantastic proceedings, the errand debris left two unsightly gashes. Had I’ve been traveling a few miles per hour faster, the rock would’ve hit the windshield instead, which while not entirely ideal, would’ve been far easier and less expensive to repair than a painted body panel (GEICO insurance offers free glass replacement).

Such is the consequences of actually putting miles on a car, rather than parking it semi permanently in storage.

I understand this fully well, of course, but man does something like that still hurts. Fortunately, the GT3 came with paint protection film on the entire front end (thank you, first owner), and to my utter surprise, the film took the entire brunt of the impact. After cutting off the scorched portions, the paint underneath remains intact. It didn’t prevent the rock from leaving two tiny dents on the panel, though, but the damage is practically unnoticeable unless the location is indicated and you look super closely.

The vastly obsessive compulsive younger version of myself would pay to get that fixed for sure; current me is happy to let the slight blemish stay as is. Paint protection film is a sort of double-edged sword: while it can prevent a surprising amount of carnage, if you ever need to do a repair, the film has to be replaced as well, adding to the total cost.

Anyways, other than the relative calamity of that stray piece of rock, the day of driving in the East Bay was the first time I attempted in earnest to explore the GT3’s limits, and great those limits are indeed. The long and winding Mines Road in Livermore served as the proving ground for car exploitation, and after two hours of heavy concentration – and sweat - hustling the car through the numerous twists and elevations, I can only report back there’s still much to learn.

The GT3’s capabilities are well known, but after having driven it in spirited fashion, I found it not to be the most inviting machine. It doesn’t cut the driver any slack: I never achieved complete confidence in understanding exactly what the car is going to do in a particular situation. Knowing the GT3 requires a prolonged exercise of teasing out its capabilities, little by little. There’s zero predictive feedback on whether an extra increment is possible: the car is either able to make that corner at that speed, or it can’t; finding out requires a slight leap of faith.

It’s all a bit cold and clinical, fitting of the car’s German roots. The steering is sharp and precise, the suspension soaks up bumps with ease, and the mechanical grip is tremendous; the GT3 is supremely effective, if just lacking in that additional feel of reassurance transmitted to the hands and posterior. Part of this is no doubt due to the tremendously high ceiling of the GT3’s limits, and my utter unfamiliarity with piloting a car of its caliber. Accessing those limits is proving to be more challenging that I had expected. Turns out not any idiot can get in a GT3 and within a few hours able to extract close to its maximum.

Not this idiot, anyways.

Driving the GT3 in anger and getting the systems up to commensurate temperatures reveals an issue of sorts that’s rather unique to the 911’s rear-engine layout: the front trunk gets mighty toasty. In a “normal” car, the trunk is located at the rear, far away from the heat of the engine compartment. The 911 reverses this configuration, except for one key component: the radiators. In order to feed them the freshest and coldest of air possible, the heat exchangers of a 911 remains nestled behind the front bumper – directly forward of the front trunk. The stagnant heat gets radiated into that cavity, and whatever items you’ve got in there will receive a decent roasting. It’s not severe enough to damage my camera gear, though I wouldn’t want to transport ice cream in the front trunk after a run to the store.

Put it behind the front seats; there’s a considerable amount of space back there where in a regular 911 would be rear seats. What’s left behind in a GT3 are the platforms that serve fantastically as parcel shelves.

Expenses in April got ballooned by the payment for the annual vehicle registration. Sadly (for my bank account) though not unexpectedly, the GT3’s fees are quite substantial. Registration cost decreases with each successive year of ownership, but when the starting point is the ~$144,000 purchase price of the car when new, five years on the DMV fees are still into the four figures. Needless to say, as with any monetary concerns with this car (just wait until I take the car in for servicing!), it’s the highest I’ve ever had to pay by a good margin.

Fuel costs were largely the same this month even with the fewer miles thanks to the substantial increase in petrol prices in California. 91 octane has been hovering in the mid 4 dollars in the past few weeks, and filling up the GT3’s extended-range tank (23 gallons) in one go is getting dangerously close to the century mark.

The month of May is looking to be difficult for putting on miles: I have social functions to attend to the next three weekends, the third of which I’m skipping town entirely. I’m beginning to understand how people with weekend-only cars struggle to accumulate miles on them, as increasingly my other areas of life knocks off some of the precedence away from driving the GT3. It’s natural, isn’t it? The newness and excitement have certainly worn off since January, and these days it’s simply living with the car as it is.

Is the infatuation over? Hardly: getting back into the cockpit every time is still super special, and after parking, I continue to take an inordinate amount of time staring at the car before moving on.

Until next time.

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Date acquired: January 2019
Total mileage: 26,161
Mileage this month: 601
Costs this month: $1608.18
MPG this month: 14.76 mpg

March 2019: box box box

Let’s talk about the wonderful and beguiling atmospheric engine.

The unit hanging behind the rear-axle of my 991 GT3 is undoubtedly one of the best naturally-aspirated motors ever produced, and one of the very last few, too. As the automotive industry barrels towards turbocharged engines, hybridization, and full electrification (shudders), the atmospheric engine is facing an imminent extinction.

It’s probably the biggest reason I bought the GT3: to savor the final rendition of the sweet NA song.

I’ve had cars with turbo engines before, and admittedly they can be interesting in their own right. The voluminous torque kick when a turbo comes on boil is equally addictive, but in a different sort of way. I’ve yet to drive a fully electric car, though from the numerous Youtube videos of ‘ludicrous mode’ on the Tesla Model S, I can presume a reasonable conclusion: it’s stupid fast. Indeed, if unadulterated power and the rate at which the speedometer needle climbs is what you’re after, the direction the industry is heading towards is heavily in your favor.

For me, driving was and is never about straight line speed; on public roads there’s a certain horsepower threshold (I would say around 400hp is the upper limit) that anything beyond is utterly useless. The GT3’s 475hp is certainly more than I could ever ask for and need. In less than five seconds of acceleration, I’m already in lock-me-jail territory. Fun for the first few times, but that novelty wears off.

Driving is an experience, in how a car invades and pervades the senses. The weight of the steering through the fingers; the harmonic mechanical sound as the throttle is pushed; the sweet scent of leather, alloy, and gasoline. Those parts make up the complete thrill of driving, hashtag soul.

More so than the linearity of power delivery, the most rewarding aspect of a naturally-aspirated engine is the sound. A turbocharged unit physically cannot match it, and the electric motor doesn’t make a sound at all. I’d thought an unencumbered exhaust tract is what makes the noise from an atmospheric engine so magical; having driven the GT3 for two months, I realized it’s rather the induction sound that’s the secret recipe.

The 3.8-liter flat-six in the GT3 has an absolutely intoxicating induction noise, accentuated by the position of the engine being behind the ears. You’d want to keep the windows down to hear the signature Porsche howl as the engine increases in revs. Listen more intently, and you can actually hear the throttle plate reacting to the prodding of the right foot, the rush of outside air gushing in to fill the vacuum, creating a subtle ‘whomp’. Chasing that euphoric sound makes me do silly things like accelerating and decelerating back and forth for the heck of it. Yes, I am not that idiot on the road.

Because there’s no turbo plumbing to introduce lag, the GT3’s throttle response is super sharp; I’d say it’s even sharper than the ND MX-5, which itself is no slouch in that criteria. There’s zero pauses before the engine reacts, an almost miraculous sensation when you consider it’s all done by computers - there is no direct linkage from the pedal to the throttle like cars of old.

Comparatively, when I climb into my brother’s Golf GTI, it’s as if someone had put a filter between my inputs and the car’s reflexes. The turbo lag is nearly dangerous, because the power comes on so schizophrenically and very unpredictable.

The melodious soundtrack aside, another party piece to the GT3’s flat-six is the sheer amount of revs. I’ve had dreams of driving cars with a high-revving engines ever since I started watching Formula One, which featured cars fitted with engines that revved beyond 20K, and made just the most beautiful high-pitched wail. The GT3 hasn’t got half the revs of an F1 car, but 9K is still immensely special. There’s only been a handful of series production sports cars with a redline that high: Ferrari 458 Italia (and its derivatives), Lexus LF-A, and Honda S2000 (AP1).

Unlike a Honda S2000 where you really need to reach the far ends of the rev-counter to extract the horsepower, the 911 GT3 has got enough grunt in the middle to make me forget there’s more revs to be had. Often times I would upshift to the next gear only to realize the engine’s “only” at around 7K revs – a point where most cars have already ran out of breath, and there’s 2,000 more to go until the limiter. I can’t help but chuckle every time at this delightful absurdity, and concurrently marvel at the fact I own such a spectacular machine.

The atmospheric engine is an endangered species in the car world, and I hope to keep this particular one running as long as possible.

Anyways, month two of GT3 ownership remains marred by seasonal inclement weather. Damp roads have continued to hinder my ability to explore the limits of the car, made worse by road debris doing a number to the front windshield. It seems roadway repair always follow me wherever I go, resulting in quite a significant amount of new pockmarks on the front glass - I’m very glad GEICO offers free glass replacement. Sadly the rain is looking like it’ll extend into April, and that means the GT3 won’t be going anywhere quickly, if at all.

Road debris claimed an additional victim: the rear passenger side tire. March saw the GT3 get its first tire puncture under my stewardship, which I have to say I’m slightly indignant about because I’ve gone nearly six years of driving without such misfortune. Perhaps the foot-wide Pilot Sport Cup 2 rear tires are indeed super sticky, but relatively fragile in equal measure. I may have had pangs of regret in not opting for the 7 years wheel and tire warranty at the time of purchase, but then I realize I’d also be out $2,600.

Adamant in spending as little as possible (how you think I’ve come to afford a GT3?), I chose to not follow Porsche’s directive of replacing a tire under any puncture circumstances (a single rear tire costs at least $500), and instead performed a traditional plug job. Thankfully, the errant nail was in the meat of the tread so efficacy and safety wasn’t an issue. Due to the inability to remove the wheel from the car thanks to the center lock hubs, plugging the tire proved to be slightly more difficult than the typical car, about which you can read further in the dedicated post.

The puncture was fortuitous because in fixing it, I’m now fully prepared for future instances (fingers crossed). The tire plug kit and the emergency scissor jack I bought used off a 996 Cabriolet fit nicely inside the front trunk, taking up a nominal amount of space.

I think I’ve gotten too familiar to the fast steering rack of the ND MX-5, because I keep wishing for a quicker ratio in the GT3. On super tight onramps where in the Miata I could make the turn without having to do a crossover of the hands, in the GT3 I’d be off the road if I’d lock my hands at 9 and 3. Not frustrating per se, more of an annoyance. I’m sure with increasing mileage I will become acclimatized to the GT3’s tendencies.

Such as its propensity to scrape the front lip spoiler on driveways and road surfaces. Shortly after buying the car I replaced the plastic piece with a new one, and shortly after that it’s already been scratched and scored at the bottom. The front-axle lift system offers considerable prevention, but even when activated, the GT3 remains a car with miniscule ground clearance. There are some obstacles that can’t be cleared without contact - even with the front-end raised, and other times I simply neglect to push the button because the driveway didn’t seem too steep to warrant any special maneuvers. Obviously, I’ve been wrong quite a few times.

Again, kudos to Porsche for having the foresight to make the front lip spoiler of the GT3 an unpainted plastic piece, one that can be replaced easily with minimal cost. It seems other GT car owners are correct in saying the spoiler is a yearly maintenance item: it will get scraped.

Maintaining the cleanliness of the GT3’s 20-inch wheels is a futile exercise. My car is fitted with the standard steel brakes, and the amount of dust from the massive 380mm rotors is drastically more than what I had expected. A short drive around the block after a fresh detail is enough to coat the wheel surfaces with a new layer of brown. My old WRX STI was afflicted with the same issue, but it wasn’t nearly as severe as the GT3. Now I understand why people pay (a lot) extra for the carbon ceramic brakes: those don’t dust whatsoever.

If only the calipers on the carbon ceramics weren’t an ugly yellow.

Gas mileage continues to be horrible this month, but that’s expected in a car like this. What’s especially funny in a masochistic way is being stuck in heavy traffic, barely at a crawling pace: I can literally see the needle on the fuel gauge moving towards E as the minutes tick by. The 3.8-liter isn’t a paragon of efficiency on a good day, but when it’s just idling way it’s liable for protest by environmentalists. I’m hoping the proliferation of electric cars will offset my own impropriety.

I keep repeating this, but I really hope April will finally bring some dry weather. As of this writing the radar doesn’t show that to be the case, but perhaps the latter half of the month will bring some needed sunshine. I’m intensely eager to explore the GT3’s limits, to finally put those Cup 2 tires to good use. The regular work-week is but a long agonizing grind until the weekend, when I am happily reunited with the GT3 again.

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Date acquired: January 2019
Total mileage: 25,557
Mileage this month: 872
Costs this month: $593.72
MPG this month: 15.07 mpg

The GT3's first tire puncture

It was just last week I wrote about buying a 996 scissor jack to have in my emergency tire repair kit, in preparation for any puncture issues during long road trips.

And apparently on short ones, too.

In what is likely one of those ‘speak of the devil’ turn of events, I got my first tire puncture in the GT3. I was heading off to my usual Friday evening drive – after four solid weekdays of simply parking the car due to not using it for commuting – when I noticed the TPMS screen indicating the right passenger tire was down 3 PSI from the normal 33. Losing nearly 1 PSI per day is a textbook example of a simple puncture, probably a nail or screw.

The inability to remove the wheels due to the center locking hubs meant a tire repair job on the GT3 is immensely more difficult than the typical car on the road. Having to look for the offending item, remove said item, and then patch the hole while the wheel remains on the car is not the best experience, especially considering the utter lack of clearance around the tire:

Have fun sticking any size of hand in through there.

Surely this is where the aforementioned 996 scissor jack comes in, but even with the assist, the GT3’s lack of suspension travel means there’s barely any droop to the wheel:

It gets worse: the 911 features an electronic parking brake, one that cannot be disabled without being in the car, door closed, engine running, and foot on the brakes. As soon as you open the door to exit, the parking brake applies automatically. Why is this important? In searching for the puncture-causing object, it’d be great if I can freely spin the wheel to easily inspect the whole surface of the tire; sadly an impossible task on the rear tire of a GT3.

Therefore if the culprit can’t be found on the first instance I jacked up the car, I have to lower the car back down, get in and drive forwards so what was previously pointed towards the ground is now at the opposite, visible end.

As my (horrible) luck would have it, I had to do exactly that. My first attempt poking my way through the wheel-well with a flashlight was unsuccessful; armed with a spray bottle of soapy water, there were no bubble spots to be found. After much grumbling and work to reposition the car, I successfully found the stubborn son-of-a-bitch in the second attempt:

Right in the meat on the inside of the two center treads, a fortunately turn of events as this meant I can repair it using the traditional rubber plug. I am not dumb enough to do the same had the puncture been on the shoulder blocks or the sidewall. I am also not rich enough to follow Porsche’s guideline of replacing the tire not matter where the hole is; spending $300-$500 (front - rear) every single time I get a nail in a tire - even if the tire is brand new - is not my idea of wise spending.

I of course declined the $2,600, 7-year wheel and tire warranty when I bought the car.

As said before, I’ve been using tire plugs since I starting driving, and not a single one have failed. For repairing holes squarely on the tread-block, I have full confidence.

In this particular instance, the cause of the puncture is a metal screw, which proved quite tricky to remove. First I had to reposition the car again: I found the screw while it was facing the front, which offers no room for me to work due to the low-hanging side-skirt and the scissor jack itself. So for a third time I wound down the jack, got in the car and did the forward and reverse dance to place the screw facing towards the rear bumper:

Yes, that on the left is indeed a very hot exhaust manifold. Don’t ask me how I found out what temperature it was.

Already cramped for space and armed with only a flat-head screwdriver and a pair of needle-nose pliers, merely extricating the screw was a half-hour ordeal of pulling and tugging (that’s what she said). Lacking in any sort of leverage whilst lying on the ground, I was finally able to free the screw by slowly turning it, a quarter turn at a time.

The plugging procedure was super easy in comparison: I enlarged the hole with the included auger tool, and then shoved the rubber plug in. A healthy dab of rubber cement to seal it up, and we had a result:

I then buttoned it all up by snipping off the excess and inflating the tire back to factory specs. The final test would be returning to the car the next day and verifying the pressure hasn’t gone down, which I am happy to report this morning the plug is holding superbly.

After this hopefully the tire puncture gods will spare me from another one for at least the rest of this year. Fingers crossed.

Emergency jack for the GT3? Get it from a 996

In buying the 911 GT3, I had only one intention: to drive it as much as possible. My car won’t be one of those parked long term and only serves to look pretty, even though the GT3 can fulfill that roll extremely well, too. Rather I subscribe to the mantra of cars being meant to be driven, and a big reason why I specced for the extended-range fuel tank was so I can go longer between fill-ups on road trips.

Still have yet to do one of those in the GT3, but it’s barely Spring yet.

A potential problem on any road trip is tire punctures. Just about the worst case scenario is to be stranded somewhere with no recourse to at least get to the next nearest town. Automobiles have for decades been fitted with spare tires to avoid such situation, and the system have worked really well: you get a flat tire, pull over to the side, put on the spare, and onwards you go.

The modern car, especially sports cars, have been inexplicably doing away with the spare tire. The reasons are many; most manufacturers will say it’s for economy reasons: less weight to carry equals better fuel mileage. I’m skeptical about that explanation because a spare tire kit can’t possibly be more than 60 pounds altogether. Eliminating that in a sports car I can understand - every less gram counts – but in a 5,000 pound German saloon, the weight savings amount to nil.

My guess is drivers these days are too inept and lazy to physically change a tire; add to the fact tire technology have rendered punctures much less frequent, manufacturers must have crunched the numbers and decided the usage of a spare tire is too minuscule to warrant fitting it to each and every car. A can of fit-a-flat is far less expensive comparatively, because of course it’s about the bottom line for automakers.

Indeed, the GT3 comes equipped with only an emergency tire repair kit: a can of fix-a-flat, a 12V-powered tire inflator, and nothing else. There isn’t even an emergency jack; not that one would do any good because the GT3 is equipped with center lock wheels, and the typical breaker bar is powerless against the 440 foot pounds of torque securing the single “lug” nut.

Porsche’s directive in the event of a tire puncture: use the can of tire goo and the electric tire pump to secure and re-inflate the offending tire, then drive the car to the nearest Porsche dealer for proper repair. In the situation when the puncture is too big for the fix-a-flat, the owner is advised to call Porsche roadside assistance for a tow to the nearest dealership – because regular tire shops don’t have the requisite knowledge and tools to handle center lock wheels.

I am to do follow the procedure even if it’s just the typical errant nail on the tread block, causing a relatively slow leak. Basically, if I suffer any sort of tire damage on a road trip in the GT3, the trip is effectively over.

That sounds like a massive hassle: a small nail in the tire that can otherwise be plugged shouldn’t mean the end of a trip, and from perusing online forums, other 911 owners agree. Those guys instead have put together their own emergency tire repair kit, all to avoid having to use the dreaded fix-a-flat or call roadside for the smallest of incidents. Their kit is simple: a set of tire plugs/tools, and a compact scissor jack.

The first item easy: any auto-parts store will have tire plugs readily available. I’ve been using them ever since I started driving, and not one have failed (knocks tremendously on wood).

The emergency scissor jack however is slightly trickier to acquire. As mentioned, the GT3 isn’t fitted with one from the factory, and due to its extremely low ride height, I can’t simply buy any random unit from other brands, because most likely it won’t fit underneath the car. The jack will have to be a Porsche part from similar model.

It turns out the 911 – of any trim – hasn’t been fitted with an emergency jack since the 996 generation - nearly 20 years ago. The can of tire goo or call roadside assistance have been the standard procedure for that long a time. Nevertheless, later generation 911 owners looking for a scissor jack, one that will work perfectly with the jacking points and lowness of the vehicle, can buy the one from a 996’s emergency kit.

Thankfully, the 996 scissor jack seems to be one Porsche part that isn’t subjected to the infamous Porsche tax – provided you buy it used from a dismantler. I did just that via eBay, and four short days after paying 100 dollars, this superbly sturdy box showed up:

Purchased from qualityporscheparts, this particular spare jack is from a 2002 911 Cabriolet that’s being parted out. Porsche claims 70% of all its cars ever made are still on the road; this 996 convertible must be the other 30%.

I really appreciate how well the item was packaged. It makes sense: car parts can often times be heavy, so dismantlers have to be extra attentive to ensure things arrive to the customer intact. Being made almost entirely of aluminum, the 996 jack is the lightest spare jack I’ve handled out of all the cars I’ve owned. Fitting, for a Porsche.

Notice the part number starting with ‘996’, indicating the jack indeed belongs to a 996 era 911. Porsche uses the numerical generation code of its cars to begin the part number sequence of its associated components. For example, parts specific to my GT3 will have ‘991’ as the beginning identifier. A uniquely special and brilliant system.

Upon closer examination, the jack looks brand-new. The hook part of the handle and the oblong nub on the jack-head don’t show any sign of abrasion from use. For 100 dollars, this turned out to be quite the steal. I guess the owner of the 996 Cabriolet couldn’t be bothered to use it ever.

Here’s the jack in its extended position, likely for the very first time since it was made.

And here it is back into its protective foam holder. It’s fortuitous the foam piece came packaged with the jack; the GT3 obviously doesn’t have a cavity for this, but because the jack and handle fits so snugly in there, I can simply turn the entire kit upside down on its flat side into the trunk. It won’t slide around all over the place during hard cornering.

Of course, my hope is to never have to use this jack and the tire plugs, but seeing the GT3 is my ‘forever car’, the likelihood of that happening is incredibly slim. Better to be prepared than having to call roadside assistance, or worst, use the can of tire goo.

February 2019: full wets required

My first month of GT3 ownership can be best summed up with one word: rain. California has been seasonably (or unseasonably, considering the drought conditions of the past few years) wet during February, and it has really put a damper on my ability put miles on the 911.

No, I’m not one of those sports car owners who can’t bear the thought of heading outside when there’s even a hint of precipitation. I bought the GT3 to drive the heck out of it, with absolutely zero concerns for resale-value or keeping things pristine. So then why did the seasonal rain restrain that progress?

It’s the tires.

Produced with an ethos of a track-focused sports car, the GT3 comes fitted from the factory with super sticky Michelin Pilot Sport Cup 2 tires. These particular rubbers may be spectacular on a hot piece of tarmac, but they are hilariously inadequate in the wet, especially when the mercury dips below 50 degrees Fahrenheit. Practically a semi-slick tire, the Cup 2s lack the typical sipes that wick away water from the tread surface, therefore driving on them during proper downpours is best avoided.

Unfortunately, four of the five weekends since I bought the car in January have seen proper downpours. While I can simply swap out the Cup 2s out for a set Pilot Sport 4S tires, having just dropped over six-figures for the GT3 itself, not wearing down the Cup 2s completely before replacement probably isn’t financially wise (as if buying the car, is).

Sadly, not nearly as many miles as I had hoped for in the first month of ownership.

Moving on to the unpleasant matter of insurance. At about $300 a month, I have to say the GT3 is surprisingly less costly to insure than I had expected. Obviously it is still fabulously expensive, rightly so given the price of the vehicle, and the fact I am a single male in my early 30s living in San Francisco – the congestion capital of America. Far too many inattentive drivers, and far too much property crime on parked cars around these parts.

The insurance premium includes the stipulation that I don’t commute with GT3 on weekdays (I take public transit) – it’s strictly a weekend pleasure vehicle. So for the privilege of piloting a 911 for only the eight weekend days out of a typical month, it costs three times more than a brand new, daily-driven Mazda MX-5 to insure. Lovely.

I mean, none of this was ever going to be inexpensive.

And that includes the cost of fuel. Before purchasing the GT3 I went nine months without owning a car, so it was jarring to have to pay attention to gas prices again whenever I pass by a station. As expected, the car returned horrendous mileage numbers: in February I averaged 14.9 miles-per-gallon. The GT3 is rated at 15 mpg city and 20 mpg highway, which relatively speaking isn’t that bad for a 475 horsepower, non-turbo sports car. Obviously I didn’t buy such a machine to be obsessed with excellent gas mileage; it’s simply something fun to keep track of.

The GT3 feels special to drive at all speeds, whether stuck in San Francisco’s inexplicable weekend traffic, or bombing it down my preferred local mountain road (Highway 35). The car offers an incredible sense of occasion, the sort of vibe and fizzy feeling that only the most special of cars provide. I don’t suppose it’ll ever get old and stale: every time I slide into the driver seat, I fight bouts of disbelief that I actually own this effervescent machine.

And that specialness seeps outwards from the GT3, affecting other drivers and pedestrians around. A normal 911 is an incognito sports car, but the GT3 is an absolute extrovert, even when cloaked in subtler hues like my Sapphire Blue sample. The loud, motorsport rumble of the flat-six engine, the roar from the sports exhaust, and the unapologetic mechanicalness of the PDK gearbox; all announcing to the outside world that this is not a typical car. The GT3 does do blending in with traffic well, unless there’s also a Lamborghini.

As mentioned, much of February was a rained-out, and in conjunction with the cold weather, opportunities to the exploit the GT3’s renowned capabilities were severely blunted. Getting the Michelin Cup 2s up to operating temperature was near impossible, and any sort of standing water leftover from the rain caused the car to hydroplane unresponsively. There was nary a chance to explore the limits of the car.

Even so, I can sense the GT3’s limits will take quite some time and courage to fully suss out. The car’s front-end grip seems endless, and because it stays supremely flat when cornering, it’s up to me to gather enough confidence to push increasingly harder into a turn. The steering response is phenomenal, changing direction with an immediacy and accuracy that’s close to telepathic. Steering feel is superb; the wheel dancing delightfully in my hands to the undulations and imperfections of the road surface. It can’t match the last bit of tactile sensation with the hydraulic unit on my old WRX STI, but for an electrically assisted system, it’s darn close to faultless.

With the rear tires constantly struggling for traction on damp roads, the only proper exercise I gave to the GT3 is with the sublime engine. The atmospheric 3.8-liter flat-six indeed lives up to all hype and expectations; if the GT3 were only its engine, and all its handling prowess was for naught, it would still be worth every penny of the admission price. The achingly wondrous howl as the tach needle races towards the 9,000rpm limiter is an experience I wish I can savor forever. The GT3’s engine is the soul of the car, the party trick that makes me giggle foolishly every single time.

True agony is the waiting period before the engine oil is up to temperature, blocking me from pushing the needle towards the fun portions of the tachometer. The beautiful joy of punching it out of a corner, listening to the motor’s sweet upward crescendo, and then looking down at the instruments to see the engine is only at 6,000 rpm, with 3,000 more revs to go. If turbochargers and electric power are the future of automobiles, this motor in the GT3 is one heck of a send-off for atmospheric induction.

Then there’s the automatic gearbox. I’ve always been a manual transmission zealot, but the dual-clutch PDK in the GT3 have turned me to the dark side; it is so good. The shift speed is sensational, impossibly immediate and free of mechanical drama. Downshifts are crisp and rev-matched to perfection. It can all be manually controlled by the driver, using either the PDK lever or the steering wheel paddles. For all intents and purposes the PDK is a manual gearbox with the computer operating the clutch. It retains a few true manual attributes. too: the car doesn’t move unless you give it throttle, and it rolls backwards on inclines.

I was irreparably hooked from the first time I performed a wide-open throttle gear change at redline. The shift was astonishingly quick, yet my foot remained flat to the pedal, and the exhaust bellowed a quick satisfying ‘whomp’ to signal the changeover. It’s an event a manual transmission can’t hope to replicate. Also cannot be beat is the PDK’s ability to equally function like a true automatic. Manual purists can call me all the names they want: it’s super nice and comfortable to have the GT3 do all the shifting for me when I’m sat in traffic.

Enough with waxing positive - it’s a 911 GT3: It had better be good, right? Let’s nitpick about some of the negatives I have found. No car is perfect, and as you live with one for extended periods, annoyances and quirks that weren’t noticeable during the test drive will certainly crop up.

The GT3’s extremely low ride height is just on the margins of useable. On only the second day of ownership, I’ve already crushed the front lip spoiler on a concrete parking curb (read the story here). Any driveway or speed-bumps have the potential to ruin my afternoon, so apologies to the cars following behind me, because really, I do need to slow down this much.

I’m sure the fixed rear wing does superb aerodynamic alchemy to keep the tail-end of the car planted, but it’s located at a rather awkward spot. Looking at it from the rear-view mirror, the spoiler is right in the middle of the rear window. Cars behind me at a certain distance is completely blocked from my view. It’s no wonder the wing got raised to a higher position on the 991.2 GT3s.

Relating to the wing obstructing the view out back, it’s baffling that a car with an original MSRP of nearly $145,000 does not come with a backup camera. It’s not even an available option, because the GT3 is considered a track car, and fitting cameras and sensors for superfluous stuff like parking needlessly adds weight as is therefore sacrilege. I am only sort of joking: Porsche is a company that famously uses a sticker instead of a badge on their RS cars to save those last extra few grams.

Reversing the car during parking maneuvers is interesting to say the least.

For whatever reason, the back portion of the rear wheel-well is completely open; there are no inner fender covers. I thought the piece was missing when I looked through it the first time and saw the exhaust system instead of a typical liner. A quick online search informed me that’s how it is from the factory. Aesthetically it doesn’t bother me, but the GT3’s rear tires are a foot wide, and when rocks and gravel inevitably get kicked up onto the exhaust tin-work, the responding noise is not pleasant at all.

I’ve only had the GT3 for a little over a month, so it’s still very much the honey moon phase. That said, I’ve no doubts the decision to purchase this car was the correct one. The 991 GT3 is a stunningly special, once in a generation sports car, and I’m too fortunate to get own one

As we head towards Spring and warmer weather, I look forward to truly testing the capabilities of this car. 2nd gear pulls in a straight line are extremely fun, but the GT3 is made to tackle corners. Let’s get this rain over with, please.

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Date acquired: January 2019
Total mileage: 24,685
Mileage this month: 910
Costs this month: $763.39
MPG this month: 14.9 mpg

Replacing the GT3's front lip

One of the inconveniences you put up with driving a desperately low car is that normal road objects become obstacles to be avoided - or else. An errant traffic cone on the road no challenge for an SUV with proper ground clearance, but for a 911 GT3, it’s a lane change or I’m coming to a stop. You know those curbstones in parking lots that notify a driver the car has reach a certain depth? Those are silent killers to a GT3’s front bumper, a thing I was to personally experience on only my second day of ownership.

It’s been over six years since I’ve owned a really low car, a Toyota Corolla that was unceremoniously slammed to the ground when I was in my Fast and Furious phase of car life. In the lowered Corolla I became a master of attacking driveway entrances at fantastic angles, all to avoid scraping the front-end. My subsequent two cars were the opposite in temperament: the WRX STI, with its rally racing roots, ate road obstacles for breakfast, while the MX-5 had more ground clearance than it really ought to. In the six years of owning them, my curbstone avoidance muscle have greatly atrophied.

Which explains how I drove the GT3 into one as I pulled into a Target parking lot (dangerous places, those). I had the presence of mind to turn on the front-axle lift to raise the car, yet absentmindedly ran right into the curb. Thankfully it was at crawling speed, so the damage wasn’t too terrible:

The plastic lip proved surprisingly robust against my abuse, though on aesthetics it’s not looking that great. I’m okay with “regular” wear and tear from road debris, but my latent OCD tendencies cannot stand to look at such eyesore. A replacement piece was needed immediately.

Porsche knew the GT3’s front lip will get annihilated from use - low ride height, remember - so in their infinite brilliance, they designed the plastic piece to be easily replaceable. It snaps into the bumper like a jigsaw puzzle, secured with only two screws at each end. A replacement lip is quite economical too, costing around $250 shipped to my door. Most Porsche GT car owners consider it, like tires, a wear item and a thing to be changed out regularly.

A week after ordering from Suncoast Porsche, this giant box showed up:

You know the Germans always make good stuff.

Obviously the lip itself is quite thin, but due to the boomerang-like shape it really needed such a large box for shipping protection.

I’d plan to reuse the two retaining side screws, but Suncoast Porsche made that null by including new screws along with the front-lip. That’s attention to detail I can appreciate. Note the teethes on the inner lip that clip into the bumper skin.

With a fresh new lip ready for install, the first step is to remove the old tattered unit, starting with the two screws on the side - the easy part. After that, it’s all brute force and some ingenuity. Some of the clips gave way without much of a fight, and others held onto the bumper for dear life. I was literally tearing the plastic apart, yet the few teethes at the center valiantly refuse to let go. Not wanting to harm the inner bumper structure, I needed some backup.

Out came a bag of tools that every car guy should have: interior trim-piece removers. These small, non-scratching plastic pry-bars proved to be the trick to dislodge the last few stubborn clips. The resulting bumper, sans front lip, is quite interesting looking:

It turns out the reason for the front lip’s robustness is a skeleton frame underneath. You can clearly see the holes where the teethes are inserted into, and the areas the prop up the lip structure. It may appear fragile, being that it’s a section of the bumper, but the skeleton is super strong, and felt in my hands solid and unmovable. Porsche have engineered this perfectly.

Installing the replacement lip, in comparison to the agony of removing the old unit, was a complete non-event. The teethes slotted right in, and it with a few light smacks it was aligned and beautiful:

Now the question becomes: how long will this fresh new front lip last? The mean streets of San Francisco will have the final say.