Drive Test: Chasing Thunder with the 2018 Porsche GT2 RS
First thing; ignore that price at the end of this feature. Even if you had the necessary R5.5 million from that recent entrepreneurial gambit with Bitcoin you can’t buy a GT2 RS. If only it was that easy – and no this isn’t like the 911R where really limited versions scrupulously met demand by appearing as GT3 Tourings. There will never be a re-developed, re-honed or less rare GT2 RS. This is it, the final boss. Miss this and miss out.
And so deserved, preserving the honour of being the pinnacle of the 991.2 dynasty in more ways than one. Every one of them sold, without inspection. Even 6 47 3 GP, which makes this drive not only exclusive, but a nerve-racking, high stakes next 400 kilometres. For us, and new owner.
Adding to the drama, as if a GT2 RS ever commands anything less, is the weather. Bittersweet rain in Cape Town is (drop by drop), slowing down the inexorable advances of Day Zero. Dark sinister clouds swollen with expectation sink, then cling to the earth, trying to revive life from the crumbling soil but the strong winds and a big goon of a pressure system are stubbornly holding the rain back in the atmosphere. You’d be reluctant to drive a Carrera 4S GTS in this weather, especially around the gnarly route we have planned in a thoughtful enactment of the ‘Ring’s tighter rougher sections.
A GT2 RS, faced with conditions totally unsuited to Michelin’s semi slicks…we better be on our A game because after this, it’s likely to be a life of hermetic storage, broken only for the occasional breakfast run.
One last look at the car since Desmond has already shortened the route that’ll see us head straight for the first mountain pass – Franschhoek – as the light diffuses through the layers of cloud. To a 991.2 Turbo’s iconic surfacing this transfers all the GT3 RS addenda, then pumps that up with some hormones to achieve signature magnum opus. It’s all very thoughtful with the technical credentials up stream to everything except maybe a 918, but Porsche always lets the engineering of its cars do the talking. With this Porsche has gone DEFCON 1 with the styling.
Some of the custom-made black plastic attached around the base…it would be prettier in traditional design parlance without these contrasting surfaces but these, rest assured, form part of a solution to a set of unapologetic extremes that our drive – most drives – won’t even scratch the surface of. So it is to Porsche, zero defect.
Pull the door via a red canvas loop as one of the many acknowledgements to motorsport and no further than two kilometres from Porsche’s showroom, we slow and merge with flashing brake lights and flickering indicators. And no, this isn’t where I tell you I’d rather be in a 991.2 GTS. The noise behind is unfiltered with little mechanical clinks and rear visibility, that even without the roll cage would be difficult enough to see past the wing but it manages this slow crawl with dignity. Always held much professional admiration for a man who volunteers to potter to the shops in his GT3 RS, giving him a knowing nod of his passionately-flawed choice and all the while heaping it with praise so in this I’m living the holy grail of motoring’s joyous contradictions.
The PDK gearbox disarms all 590kW here, cabin trim includes a radio and full climate plus the touchscreen. Steering controls come in the form of two levers, mounted at the back for up- and downshifts. Around these parts it moves about like a GT3 RS. Tyre noise et al.
Then minutes later, the blaring red interior pierces through the darkness of the skies above. The A-pillars, the steering wheel, the floor around the roll cage. In pictures, I admit I wasn’t a fan, but now I’m here, ensconced in the jaws of noise and vibration, the moment for subjective complaints about its appearance have passed. Here is a place that has little time for things unimportant to a supercar. Surely being the fastest car around the Nurburgring, beating the Huracan Performante is far more poignant, so I pin the throttle for my first real sensation of its blistering speed.
Satisfied with the resulting chasm in our schedule, we stop for coffee in Franschhoek and a chance to test the GT2 RS on a few Instagram followers who have risen up early, knowing they would likely miss the first two periods at school.
A 911 is usually invisible around these fertile supercar testing grounds but one mutilated for lap records raises the alarm. Ours has the optional Weissach Pack which includes PORSCHE splayed out over the wing, magnesium alloys that aren’t shared with any other Porsche, carbon roof versus magnesium, roll cage and seats with provision for a 6-point harness. Total the pack saves 30kgs – to my knowledge no buyer has bought his GT2 RS without it. Soon, there’s a crowd; everyone’s asking about the power (515kW), the 0-100kph (2.8secs) and top speed (340kph) or 400 indicated. Strong raw stats to return the balance initially titled in the favour of the verbose exterior.
Nose-lift function for the last speed bump, turn left to start the pass, heed to experience that says PDK Sport on these greased surfaces. You need to hold it for TC OFF and the length of time is usually enough to reconsider your mortality. Take a short, sharp intake of breath. Can say with 100 per cent certainty that PDK Sport is more than OK for everything. Damper control starts off very firm, so leave that alone and instead press the exhaust button below.
I find a smooth rhythm up the pass, keeping the revs in the thick of 3.8-litres – it revs to just over 7000rpm, but indolent with anything less than 2000rpm, where the larger turbos leave a small vacuum in their response. But in mitigation, each mode packs enough differentiation to laser focus the throttle, gearbox and TC setting until it’s absolutely stripped and lit.
But the brakes are cold so the pedal feel doesn’t offer that quantity of initial bite. The tyres are numb. It’s a little anaesthetised, nothing’s really clicking at this tentative rate. So I poke the sulky thing with a stick. Big mistake, on the next burst of acceleration we’re sideways at the hairpin in what feels like five seconds of heroic opposite lock but in reality would have been cut short by the vestiges of traction control. Desmond flashes me a look, complements ‘nicely done’ with ‘let’s stop here for photos.’ Better get some in the bag, he reckons, lifting his head to the large splodges of rain falling the short distance from the clouds encircling the pass.
Another few clicks of the shutter permits a few extra runs. Give the tyres and brakes a proper chance of deploying, then erasing power. Mentally psyched up for the first late brake, ready to finesse the power. Listen to what each fragment of dialogue is saying, then learn from it. There’s a clarity to an ‘uncomplicated’ rear-wheel drive supercar, once you tap into its central nervous system, which in this case comes across as devout consciousness of those faintly-grooved Michelins. Worship all the tools available, like the accurate snaps from the PDK gearbox trimming the power with gear-up security. It’s not overtly armoured with tech so it doesn’t suffer fools gladly. Man and machine.
Controls are meaty, rather than nervously fast. Loads build fluidly, the nose poured into each corner setting off an intuitive chain reaction with steering, damping, roll. In fact, I’m aware of the nuanced control of the lightened carbon anti-roll bars, how the wings and splitters freakishly spring to life when spaghetti roads try to unbalance the aero. But they all react spontaneously to the power, a chemistry delivered from the rear axle with its own small directional steering. A foot away from the apex closes to within an inch under hard acceleration.
And like all great Porsche engines, there’s a point where the maelstrom of clanks, thunks and whistles reach a stage where the industrial coarseness harmonise to an operatic mechanical ballet. The throttle bristles with a scalpel’s edge, like it’s working in the eye of a storm, totally liberated from inertia. So pure, so distinctly Porsche – lots of muscular engine noise reinforced with boost. Cool fact; valves are implanted right at the end of the pipes, visible if you bend down as they open and shut on little actuator arms.
During that relentless speed, the effortlessness with which it climbs from low into three figures, some of that earlier suppleness in the corners is now vehemently slammed into the ground. It impacts with the road without apology, the body bounces when the dampers run out of travel – which is often – but I have to compliment the comfort with which the seats cradle you. It’s not a car for crushing distance because many of the precision instruments are rendered null and void without a force to counteract. But that slight left hander up ahead…the first input into the steering wheel and it transforms. Ohmygosh, does it ever!
That really is the point of a GT2 RS. Speed generally comes easily, but you have an underlying duty to drive it well. It’s got more than just an ounce of usability on the road but its heart is married to the track. Not big losses where you’d expect, big grins and gains everywhere else. As a swansong to the 991.2 moniker, with a higher-tech 911 likely to fall within Porsche’s 70th anniversary this year, the GT2 RS candle burns brightest. One for the record books. ANDREW LEOPOLD
- Porsche GT2 RS
- Price: R5 511 000
- Engine: 3800cc, flat-six twin-turbo, RWD, 515kW, 750Nm
- Transmission: 7spd PDK, RWD
- Performance: 0–100km/h in 2.8secs, 340km/h
- Economy: 11.8l/100km, 269g/km CO2
- Weight: 1470kg
