When it comes to 911s, there can sometimes be a big difference between perception and reality. John Glynn examines common knowledge through a psychic microscope.

It happened five years ago, almost to the day. My brother in law had recently passed away, and my company was in the midst of a management buy out, so I was surrounded by some big changes. I have no idea how or why I noticed it, as I never read the local paper, but my gaze fell upon an ad for a clairvoyant medium. 

Many of us swing between the romance of believing in everything and the reality of believing in very little - an incessant head-versus-heart melodrama, often instilled by a religious upbringing. One thing I do believe is that new experiences are good, whatever your faith. Curiosity had the better of me, so I dialled the number. A woman answered immediately, as if she knew the phone was about to ring. Good start.

We had exchanged some simple pleasantries, when the voice at the other end suddenly said “she is putting the pen in your hand”. My mind was clear on wanting to do more writing, so I asked who this pen-thrusting “she” was. I was given a compelling and clearly identifiable response; it was not the anticipated “grey-haired woman who used to be alive”.

Expectations were firmly in check when I met the seer two weeks later. An evenly-matched sense of humour and Irish roots on both sides of the table meant conversation came easy, but the ten pages of A4 notes I made recording the main points of our three-hour encounter tell a more serious tale. There were things that no way could this woman have known about, yet the feedback was right on the money, every time. It was truly a remarkable evening.

I like to imagine myself as one of those sophisticated sceptics, but such a person would probably have spent the evening looking for ways to rationalise the experience. I ignored the temptation to overanalyse things, thoroughly enjoyed myself, and left with a kind of enhanced confidence that has served me well. I have not been back since.

Those who scoff at such stories will advance myriad arguments to support their ‘stuff and nonsense’ attitude: I was overemotional following bereavement, I was told what I wanted to hear or, on the basis of a few fluke guesses, I was taken in by someone gifted in the art of “cold reading”. The critical flaw in this approach is that the debunkers weren’t there, so they wrap themselves up in the blinkered safety net of point-blank dismissal, supported by what they claim as ‘common knowledge’. But without offering considered opinion based on direct experience, who’s the charlatan?

Common knowledge is pervasive in nine-elevendom. Common 911 knowledge contends that Turbos are terrifying, Tiptronics are for wimps and Targas are the softest things since soggy sliced bread. This may be true for some people, but our inherent preferences are bespoke, and one man’s pariah is another man’s paladin.

All 911s are different, appealing to individual buyers on individual levels. I believe that the 911 reveals its essential character over time, and it is only through personal experience that we can truly come to quantify the qualities our ideal 911 would possess. To me, they are not cars that everyone can jump into and instantly appreciate, particularly where those new to 911s are concerned.

Subjective opinion should be valued first and foremost on the experience of those giving it. If a writer sees all 911s as style-conscious sports cars that must be capable of matching the latest Italy has to offer, then everything they consider to dilute ultimate performance will be condemned as anathema. Should the tester view 911s as cars to suit a variety of roles and purposes, the review will read entirely differently.

I have driven more than a few Turbos and much of what was written about these cars differs wildly from my own experience. The iconic 930 is enormous fun, and the onset of boost is utterly predictable, so the scenery is only in danger of being punctured by the car’s posterior if one drives like a lobotomised lager lout.

Similarly the Targa: a Porsche original, giving open-air motoring in unique style. The anti-Targa argument - that they are not as pretty or as rigid as Coupes - is completely irrelevant to those who have wholeheartedly embraced the recipe. Targa buyers buy because of the roof, not in spite of it. To them, the specific silhouette of the early cars is an attraction, not a deterrent.

Claims that Targas are lesser cars because they are ultimately not as stiff as tin tops should never had found their way into the vernacular. What Porsche giveth with one hand, they taketh away with the other. Targas might not have fixed lids, but when they play their trump cards, the sky truly becomes the limit. The same is true of a Tiptronic used daily in traffic. Tiptronic Targas? To some they’re terrific!

By all means, read and enjoy road tests from when the cars were new, but steer well clear of converting subjective opinion into common knowledge. If you’re reading this and in the Porsche market, don’t undervalue personal experience. Embrace the variety of the 911 and, as the telly chef is always telling us, try something new today. You could be in for a very pleasant surprise.