GT3 Diaries

June 2019: getting familiar

What are the logistics of owning a junior supercar like in a dense city like San Francisco?

Not terribly good, I have to say.

Mind you, this is from the perspective of someone who does not own a home in the city, and therefore no garage space to house the GT3. I’m sure the experience of a wealthy person with a house in Pacific Heights – the typical 911 owner, honestly – would be vastly different from what I have to deal with in order to enjoy the bliss of Porsche ownership. 

Lacking a garage, the first order of business was to find a place to park the GT3 somewhat permanently. Our townhouse apartment has a secured lot, but parking a six-figure car in there, when most residents are working-class, is not the wisest. Unlike Asian countries where visible wealth is celebrated, here in America it’s antagonized, especially in the Bay Area where the haves – the tech bros – and have nots – the blue-collars – have been at loggerheads since this latest tech-boom began. In a city where private transport buses get attacked as a symbol for wealth-inequality, I reckon it’d be best to not park a Porsche at our apartment complex.

Obviously, street parking then is out of the question as well. I don’t live in a particularly good part of the city, and property crime as a whole in San Francisco have been on the rise. Leaving a GT3 parked on the street for an extended period of time (remember, I commute by bus) is not a good idea. I’d be inundated with stress, of someone backing into it (parking by braille), or worst, vandalizing it because how dare this person own such an expensive car. Also worth mentioning is the utter lack of street parking in my neighborhood, and the weekly street cleaning San Francisco is so well known for. To park the GT3 out there I’d literally have to play music-chairs with other cars, a super annoying task that anyone who lives in the city understands innately.

So where does the 911 get parked? At work. I’m lucky enough that where I work features a secured structure, and parking there costs only 20 dollars a month. Lacking this, I may not have bought the GT3 to begin with because to rent a parking space in the city is on average 300 dollars a month – about the same as a typical car payment, which is insane. As expensive as the Porsche is to buy and own, the additional cost to rent a spot just to store it would have made the entire proposition untenable – I’d have no money left for maintenance and unexpected costs (it’s a German car, after all).

Thanks my place of employment, I am able to tuck the GT3 neatly at the corner of the parking structure, undisturbed from the public, and also from the elements as well – it’s a covered lot. The car definitely keeps cleaner than it would have been had it been parked outside, and it saves me from buying a sunshade or getting the windows tinted.

While it’s great I don’t have to worry about the car during the weekdays, the arrangement of parking the GT3 at work is not without its challenges. It takes about a 20 minute drive or 45 minute bus ride (on a good schedule) to get there from the house, so on weekends when I want to take the car out for a spin, I have to factor in that extra time onto the equation. Car enthusiasts love to wake up super early and take their vehicles out on the local mountain roads just as the sun is rising; a hard thing for me to do because the additional time to get to the GT3 means I have to wake up even earlier. It’s really nothing to complain about, but those are indeed the circumstances. A typical two-hour drive on the weekends usually ends up taking the better part of three.  

Perhaps someday I’ll have the means to have the GT3 at exactly where I’m living; until then, accessing the car is a bit of a pain.  

Equally painful are the typical road conditions of San Francisco. I’m sure other cities and regions may have it worse, but that doesn’t alter the fact our pothole-ridden streets are not kind to track-focused super cars with wide, low-profile tires. Yes, I am that idiot weaving left and right to avoid road imperfections, while you in your cushy sports-utility vehicle can simply drive over them with nary a sensation felt inside. We’ve had quite a significant amount of rain this first quarter of the year, so the roads were even worse than usual. Indeed, there were a few times I questioned the wisdom of owning a car like the GT3 in such unfriendly environment, that it’d be better to park the car until conditions are fixed/improved for the Summer months.

But that’s not how I roll: cars are mean to driven, after all. In any and all situations. 

Maybe I should have bought the wheel and tire warranty when I purchased the GT3 back in January; honestly the extra $2,600 outlay on top of the already hefty six-figure check I was writing to the dealership scared me the heck off of opting for the extra insurance. The car features forged alloy wheels, so I figured they would be far stronger than the typical cast aluminum sets in most other vehicles. For a motorsport-inspired product, it would be kind of sad if a stray pothole – and there are many in the San Francisco area – can so easily damage an alloy.

Tires are a different matter, and remembering that I caught a puncture within the first month of ownership, the warranty would have been ace had I paid for it. Luckily I was able to safely (?) patched the hole, though it was a more laborious affair than typical because again I don’t have a personal garage, so I had to perform the emergency surgery right in the work parking lot. I bet it looked quite peculiar for the few people who drove by, seeing me lying underneath a Porsche, tugging on the nail to force it out of the tire (damn you, centerlock wheels).

Indeed, simple maintenance items like plugging a tire or washing the car has to be done inside the parking structure. “Detailing? Where’d you get the hose and water?” Well, there obviously isn’t any of those things in the lot: in order to hose the GT3 down I have to drive it to a coin-op car wash facility in South San Francisco. I go to this particular establishment because it features a foam cannon, which is great for getting cleansing soap into spots otherwise unreachable.

I don’t then use the brush to scrub the body though, because we all know that’s terrible for the paint. It’s only a quick foam and rinse; I then drive the car back to the lot at work, where I then essentially wipe down the car with microfiber towels using Optimum No Rinse solution and the Garry Dean method. It’s highly effective, if a bit cumbersome in execution.

Wouldn’t it be nice: to be able to do all of this right there at the place I live in. Hashtag goals, as the kids say.

Since purchase, I’ve put about 3,000 miles on the GT3, signaling the halfway point in terms of mileage before the next oil change service. It’ll be a race to see if I hit the mileage marker or the date (December) first. I really hope it’s the former.  

For service I will have to take the car to the dealership of course, because again, no garage, and therefore, no tools of any kind. It’s a complicated procedure anyways, one where I’m happy to pay the few hundred (yup, for an oil change) and let the dealer techs deal with it. The GT3 has dry-sump oiling with a separate reservoir and two drain plugs, so it’s far different from the standard road car. The 9A1 flat-six is highly sensitive to oil levels, therefore incredibly important to replace the fluid precisely. Since the car is still under the CPO warranty, it’s also better to have maintenance documentation from a dealership.

Too bad it’s all the way over across the bay in Fremont, some 50 miles from San Francisco. I could patronize dealerships more local, but because I bought the car from Fremont Porsche, I get a 10% discount on service, which when dealing with numbers in the hundreds and thousands, is not an insignificant sum.  

During the month of June I went on a drive with a few car enthusiast friends up over at the mountains in Livermore. As one does in these morning gatherings, we hit the local Starbucks for a splash of caffeine fuel before heading off to the driving festivities. Being that I had to trek all the way there from San Francisco, I was quite a bit later than the rest to arrive, and I was unable to finish my coffee before setting off. No problem, I figured: that’s what cup holders are for.

My assumption was massively incorrect.

The GT3 does have cupholders, but in typical German fashion, it appears they’ve been designed as an afterthought, only to please those pesky Americans who adore their enormous, sugar-filled drinks. The mechanism in the 911 is intricate enough: the two lone cupholders in the entire car swings outwards just above the glovebox via a push on the panel, and the cradles simply hang in the air. From a beauty standpoint I think it looks rather good, but from a utility perspective, as a I found out, it’s utterly useless for any container that isn’t closed.  

This is due to the fact the GT3 is a decidedly stiff car, and road imperfections filter into the cabin in a satisfactory, motorsport-inspired fashion. Great for the seat-of-the-pants feel, not so good for my cup of coffee sitting on the cupholder cradle. The incline out of the Starbucks parking lot alone was enough of a jolt to cause the liquid to splash out of the mouthpiece and right onto the center console. I immediately grab the cup off the cradle and rapidly drank more of the coffee to a level adequate to prevent any further spillage, no matter how intense it’s rocked.  

Sadly it was a decent amount of coffee, and as someone who likes to sip slowly, it was not a pleasant to have to essentially chug it down. Damn you Germans and your eternal disdain for vehicular conveniences in sports cars.

It wasn’t all bad: on the same cruise on the Livermore mountains, I by chance was able to meet the very first owner (of which I’m the third) of the GT3. He had the car for a year, and traded it in for a McLaren 570S (as one does). These days he’s rolling around in a lime green 991.2 GT3 RS, which of course I was instantly admiring and jealous of. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t have imagined I’d be able to meet the previous owners of my car, much less the very person who put in the actual order and specified it to his liking.

So it was an interesting fact-finding chat; the guy explaining to me how he came to choose the color (the typical white or silver is too common to be special), and showing me pictures of the car receiving its paint-protection film. The key thing I found out about the GT3 is that it has had ceramic coating done to the entire exterior – including the wheels. I’d been marveling at how the prodigious brake dust from the Brembos doesn’t seem to be sticking at all to the wheels, and now I know why. This revelation means I don’t have to apply wax for the foreseeable future, and I can do periodic rinses in between detailing jobs to prolong the interval. 

Personally, I wouldn’t have paid for ceramic coating (it’s nearly a thousand dollars for a competent job), so I’m glad the first owner chose to do so.

He also told me he took the car often to the track, and from circumstantial evidence (in one of the dealership pictures the car still had a tow-hook inserted up front) it seems the second owner did as well. This gives me reassurance, rather than the fraught that some second-hand buyers of these cars feel when they find out a particular GT3 has been used as intended. I’m buying a car to drive, not to sit pristine and pretty inside a heated garage, so a well-used sample doesn’t bother me at all. As it’s often the case, cars like the GT3 are worse off when its oily bits doesn’t get to operating temperate regularly. Designed for intense track-use, the first two owners actually did me a favor in ensuring my 911 is properly exercised

If anything, I actually came away from talking to the first owner with more confidence and adoration for the my GT3.

The seasonal rain finally ended in June, and we actually had a few days of unseasonably warm weather. It was perfect opportunity then to fully explore what the Michelin Pilot Sport Cup 2 tires can do. In a word: grip. A tremendous amount of grip. Restricted by the confines of mountain roads and my admittedly poor driving ability, I was unable to get the Cup 2s to invoke even a hint of protest squeal, much less going over its edge for various slip angles. The grip on offer is simply astounding, and crucially it can be felt over the steering wheel, giving me confidence and egging me on to push that much faster.

As maligned for the transition to electric assist as it was back when it first launched, I have to say the GT3’s steering is sublime, and up to the expectations from having read about the famed Porsche steering. Yes, it doesn’t wriggle and dance like a good hydraulic rack, but it’s as communicative as I’d ever need it to be. I can instinctively feel how much turn-in the front-axle can offer - whether or not those Cup 2s are up to proper temperature - through my hands on the wheel.

As sticky as those Michelins are, I think I’m still going to switch to a set of Pilot Sport 4S tires when the Cup 2s are worn out. Living here in San Francisco there just aren’t enough hot weather days to fully lit them up; the less aggressive PS4S rubber offers a larger operating window to access maximum grip, not to mention it fares better in the wet as well. A soft goal is to wear the Cup 2s out during this Summer; let’s see if that will be achieved.

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Date acquired: January 2019
Total mileage: 27,036
Mileage this month: 587
Costs this month: $449.47
MPG this month: 15.53 mpg

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:

No bubbles!

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.

Front plate or no front plate? That is the question

This has never been an issue for me, until now.

I’m not the type of car enthusiast who frets over having holes in the front bumpers of his cars. Obviously I concur with the viewpoint the styling of the front end gets absolutely ruined by having to fit a license plate, and drilling holes into a pristine bumper is a complete antithesis to my obsession with vehicular perfection, however Sisyphean that may be. But rules are rules, and California is a state that requires a front plate. I much rather follow the law, suffer that slight bit of blemish to the front end of my cars, and lessen the probability of getting pull over by highway patrol.  

In my two previous cars, the decision to run front plates was made for me: both the WRX STI and the MX-5 Miata was purchased new, and the dealership have already drilled holes onto the bumper before delivery. With the deed having been done, using a front plate was the only option, because otherwise having two holes out front where the plate should be is even more unsightly. 

The GT3 presents a conundrum: I bought it used, and the previous owners have elected to not run a front plate. Therefore there aren’t holes in the front bumper, no provisions at all for me to affix a plate. The selling dealership didn’t even have the original plate holder that screws into the bumper, figuring buyers of 911s and its ilk aren’t wont to run front plates anyways. They would be correct, but I guess I’m not the typical 911 owner.

My full intention was to put the front plate on the GT3, to avoid as much extra attention as possible in a car that innately grabs attention. However, for the first time ever I have a vehicle with an unmolested front bumper, and I wasn’t exactly keen to drill fresh holes into it; another solution was required. After some research, I decided the best non-destructive method to run a front plate was via the tow-hook, in the form of a specialized mount. $100 dollars later, I had a CravenSpeed Platypus mount ready for the actual plates to arrive.

Well, it’s been three solid weeks since the plates came in the mail, and yet I’ve only had the rear license plate mounted to the GT3. When it came time to actually put on the front plate, I can’t seem to be bring myself to do it, and there are reasons. Primarily it’s because I don’t commute in the car, only pleasure driving on the weekends, so the chances of running into cops hunting for plate offenders are very slim. No meter-maid is ever going to ticket me because I hardly ever park the GT3 in a metered spot.

Praying on the fact there are fewer cops on the weekends, and those who are out there aren’t bothered enough to stop cars for lowly plate violations, I am willing to risk not having a front license plate. Indeed, the GT3 looks immensely better without it, the purity of the iconic styling preserved.

I’ll put on the front plate when I go on road trips, but for now, I shall live on the edge…

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.