That little trip I took to France earlier in the month yielded some great results. I got to take a lot of pictures I liked, lots I didn’t like but that taught me a few things, and also made a pair of great articles out of it.

One of them is a piece for Total 911 magazine on our trip to Classic Le Mans: the driving, the drinking and the atmosphere. I met Jamie down there to shoot the pics and he did a cracking job.

Le Mans atmosphere research is straightforward enough: wander about, see the big guns, find out who’s up to what and make copious notes on everything. As the journo is responsible for setting the tone on a piece like this, it was my challenge to decide on the opener: that full-spread start picture that sets the tone and lures the reader in.

After a few days’ thought, I decided on a gaggle of 911s on classic two-lane blacktop: one of those tree-lined Frenchie boulevards, with stone farmhouses dotted either side of the road and peasants on bikes wobbling up the middle. Onion strings would be a plus.

Just up the road from my rented gite was the perfect location, spotted as I arrived in the Orange from Monaco on Thursday afternoon. One sunny morning, we took 4 of my housemates’ cars down to the perfect spot, briefed them on what was required and Jamie got the shot on the second run. As the car world’s number one snapper said immediately afterward: “if there’s one thing we do to the max, it’s nail a tracking shot!” Here’s a little video of lining the cars up before turning around and doing the business.

The mag may decide to go another way on how to lay it out, but this is how I saw it on location. Check the finished product in an upcoming edition of Total 911 magazine.

Things are absolutely flat out here, as I try to get two US features and a pair of magazine columns done, before readying my Orange 911 Carrera 3.0 for the 2010 RGruppe Bergmeister Tour, and our subsequent trip to Classic Le Mans; back to our beautiful gîte in Dissay-sous-Courcillon.

The Dutch posse leaves Amsterdam at 07:30, heading for Belgium. The original idea was for the latecoming members of UK RGruppe (i.e. me and Hamish) to hook up with the German and Dutch cars (and the US IROC car which has been shipped in especially) somewhere south of Brussels at around 09:30, but that would mean getting an 05:30 train, so my leaving home before 3am.

Little brother gets in to Brum from Dublin at 8pm the previous night so, between getting the car done all day Friday and the Saturday night arrival in Geneva, I was staring down a double-barreled all-nighter. Not impossible with two drivers, but not much fun for either.

I considered missing the convoy and going straight to Geneva from Brittany Ferries’ Portsmouth to Caen route, which is actually quite a bit shorter, but a: it was booked solid and b: it kind of felt like cheating. I also considered an 11pm Chunnel crossing, driving to a hotel south of Brussels and getting 5 hours’ sleep before the Dutchies arrived, but that didn’t feel quite right: the tunnel is quick, but it’s a romance-free zone!

Then the thought occurred: what about sailing to the Netherlands overnight? Take a leisurely drive from Birmingham Airport to Harwich, slip onto Stena Line’s midnight boat to the Hook of Holland, which would get us into Rotterdam at around 08.30 CET as close to the tour start as possible, fully relaxed and rested. I ran the idea past Chaptermeister Stolk and he liked it too.

So that’s the plan. Pick up little bro, head to Harwich, put the Orange in the safe hands of Stena Line while we head upstairs, have a bit of dinner and chill out. We’ll then squeeze in some zeds in comfortable beds, before kicking off the 2010 Bergmeister Tour with enough energy to really get the most from the drive south to Thonon-les-Bains, on the shores of Lake Geneva.

Day two brings us to Briancon. Day three then takes us to Monaco, where Bergmeister Base Camp will be established at the Novotel in the old town. From there, our ten classic Porsches will spend three days running along some classic Monte Carlo routes and also the the famous Mediterranean Corniches: those unbearably photogenic roads, carved into the mountains where they meet the glistening sea. James Bond: eat your heart out! I’m looking forward to more France Porsche pictures like this:

Don’t miss the story of this sure-to-be magnificent event. Follow it here, on The Classic Porsche Blog’s Facebook page and on The Classic Porsche Blog Twitter feed.

911 & Porsche World magazine have used our Steve McQueen 930 shoot at Laguna Seca on both their subscriber cover and UK news stand cover this month: we’ll wait to see if it makes the news stand cover in the US also. You can see the retail cover here, as well as reading our article (also in this month’s Porsche World) about the two almost-identical 911SC coupes, ten grand and 100,000 miles apart: a piece called “Project versus Perfect”.

It’s always a buzz to get a Porsche World cover, and a special buzz to get both retail and subscriber editions. Great photography as always by the marvellous Jamie Lipman, but a very special car too. The 930 was McQueen’s last 911 and now belongs to Mike Regalia, who bought and restored Steve’s famous Ferrari 250 GT Lusso, which sold at auction for a cool $2.31 million a few years back.

We shot the McQueen car during an SCCA meet at Laguna Seca. Organising the shoot is a long story – one for a book more than a blog – but it ended up with smiles all around. The moral is: if you ever go looking for Laguna Seca, you won’t find it unless you know the secret. Quite a shock how well hidden it is if you have been a lifelong fan of the place and just want to get in to have a look! There were some lovely people organising that event too: go SCCA!

I gotta give a special mention to my great buddy John Gray for keeping my positivity going on the last US trip. When three cars cancelled the week before we flew, we were all set to pull the plug until Gray gave me the news that the 930 had surfaced. Big thumbs up JG as, without your encouragement, we might have stayed home.

Sometimes I can’t believe we find such great cars to shoot – I dunno how it happens but that’s all part of the fun! Roll on the next trip.

From a very early age, I was a bookworm, reading voraciously on almost every subject. Nothing could keep me away from those precious words, and the worlds that existed within them.

As my friends discovered their boy bits, I was discovering great periodicals. For my 12th birthday, I got my first subscription: to Truck magazine.

Contributor Phil Llewellin (RIP Phil) was my hero. Phil’s Long Distance Diaries were road trip tales covering everything from glass hauliers bringing 12-metre panes to the UK from rural France, to Trans International Routiers running across the no-mans-land between London and Moscow, to million-mile Peterbilts hauling classic cars all across the USA. No matter what the journey, Phil was there, recounting every event with genuine enthusiasm and making gods of everyday blokes.

As Clarkson says in his foreword to Phil’s great book, The Road to Muckle Flugga: “Phil realised, even back then, that cars were dull. It was what you did with them that mattered.”

Because of Phil, I couldn’t wait to drive a truck. My schoolbooks were strewn with drawings of Kenworth K100 Aerodynes and Volvo Globetrotters. I’ve previously written about having one of the only bits of English homework I ever did in senior school read out in front of the class: the story of a Foden snowplough driver who rescues a couple trapped in a drift with the help of his trusty machine. The muse came straight from a feature I had read in Truck.

In 1986, I came to London for the summer, working for an organic ice cream company in Fulham. We made and sold our own ice cream, frozen yoghurt and brownies. For £123 a week, I delivered products to our shop in Harrods, and all over London, in my trusty 1-ton Bedford CF fridge van.

One day, our proper truck driver was ill, so I did his round in our Bedford TK. I ventured off-piste many times, eventually arriving back at base in receipt of record sales. The boss was over the moon, and immediately started talking about buying another truck, for me to use. It was then I realised: I wanted to be Phil, not the truck driver!

I harboured that desire for a long time: to write for a living, entertain readers like Phil did and get paid for it. Fear of flying always held me back: the notion that it won’t come together, or that I’m not as good as those already at it. There’s really only one way to find out, so I have resigned from my 10-year job with Glass’s Guide and am finally going to chase my dream.

As one of my American cousins said last night: “you’ve proved your talent, now show us your ambition.” It’s my new company motto!

Here’s a piece Jamie and I shot in California last year. We sold it to Retro Cars magazine: it went down a treat.

Concealed Weapon

This pretty little Porsche might look like a factory hot rod, but it hides a guilty secret behind the seats. John Glynn went to California to find out more.

Engine transplants have been the backbone of hot rodding since Moses was a boy. Nothing is more renegade than running an excessive engine in a chassis that was never designed to handle tons of torque. Overdosing on power-to-weight, and then making that package work is what custom car construction is all about.

When Bob Marx took the temporary motor from his 454 Chevrolet Chevelle SS, to refit the rebuilt original powerplant, he was gifted a great-running V8 with nowhere to go. Later that week, while cruising a friend’s E36 BMW M3 Cabriolet down to a Silicon Valley car show, the thought occurred that building an open-topped European vehicle with all-American power might be kind of fun.

Spotting a Porsche 914 at the show, Marx took a closer look at the engine bay. He was convinced that the spare V8 would fit in the mid-engined location. The hunt began, almost immediately uncovering this car just a few miles from Bob’s home in Pleasant Hill, on the outskirts of San Francisco.

Marx’s machine began life as a 1700cc 1972 914, or ‘Teener’.“A rust-free California car was what I was looking for,” recalls Bob, “and the owner assured me it was exactly that, so I went and had a quick look. I noticed a few things I didn’t like, but we agreed a deal and I brought it home to get to work. As I began stripping back to the bare tub, I uncovered more and more rust, along with some shocking hack jobs on things like the wiring. It was not the best of starts.”

Although classic Teener rot spots, such as the hell hole (the area under the battery tray), front floorpan and rear luggage space needed nothing bar a quick wire brushing, extensive corrosion was uncovered in the sills, floorpans and battery tray. Bob cut out the rust and welded in new repair panels, before taking the exterior down to bare metal and welding on the steel GT arch pack, key to the look of this car.

Sold new with mid-mounted 1.7 or 2.0 litre engines, cooking versions of the 914 were never intended to take the power of a small-block Chevy motor. Strengthening the chassis was essential to deliver a safe, confident drive. To achieve this, Bob welded in the longitudinal and rear arch stiffening kits, to minimise rear flex under power, which would ultimately have cracked the back end. He also ensured that the factory stiffening was still working as it should.

Porsche had only ever fitted air-cooled engines, so work was needed to house the water cooling required by the incoming Chevy. A custom rad was fitted in the nose, with homemade ducting to direct cold air through it. Lightweight Gates hoses carry coolant back and forth. The front valance was modified to let the air in and then painted satin black. At the back, a bi-folding engine grille was built, again for better airflow. Both look great. The reflection of the grille in the rear glass, set between the side buttresses, is a really sweet aspect.

With the chassis work now just about complete, Bob sent his wide-arched shell off to be blasted with baking soda. Once this was done, the attractive bare-metal bodywork was returned to Bob’s workshop, for final parts fit before the whole thing was painted in Porsche Guards Red. The colour looks perfect in this California light: not too brash and not too boring.

The engine is a 1968 327 cubic inch V8, built in Detroit and originally fitted to a Corvette. 327 cubic inches is 5.4 litres: over three times the size of the original. Prior to installation, Bob rebuilt the motor with some trick parts. The block received a light hone before Keith Black 10:1 pistons were slid into the bores. An Edelbrock intake manifold, topped with a 610 cfm carburettor from the same manufacturer was securely fastened to the top end.  Stock Chevy headers flow into sexy, GT40-style exhaust pipes. Power is an (under)estimated 345 bhp.

The 901 gearbox is a Porsche classic. Though never built with 350 bhp in mind, it’s a strong, reliable unit which, driven considerately, is nicely suited to the lazy torque of a big V8. The 901 is often seen in historic 911 rally cars, and normally requires no more than a strengthened sideplate and new crown wheel and pinion to make it bulletproof. But that’s with a hundred fewer horses stampeding their way through the transmission. Though this application is more car show and less Tour de Corse, it’s still a big ask.

The 901’s weak point is the dog-leg first gear, located left and back on the shifter. Too much power can twist the separate first gear shaft away from the rest of the internals, so Bob uses the engine’s humungous torque to pull away in second. I do the same in my 911s – it’s no big deal. Thanks to a parts wait, the tail shift mechanism is still fitted to the transmission. Meanwhile, Bob has switched to the slicker side-shift setup, to get the best out of swapping ratios. Future plans feature a more robust 911 Turbo transmission install.

Stance is everything on a hot rod and this one hits the spot. Sports cars sold in the USA have long suffered from vertigo, induced by the towering statutory ride heights that resulted from Ralph Nader’s safety campaigns of the 1960s. Returning the car to European ride height is a popular mod amongst US Porschers.

Tuning the suspension of a chassis that’s had its power tripled overnight is a tricky business, but Bob reckons he’s got things under control. Considering the stock front anti roll bar is thinner than an anorexic stick insect, and there’s no bar fitted to the rear, this sounds hard to believe, but it all looks flat as we follow the car to our photo location. The front is held up by torsion bars and controlled by Bilstein Sport dampers, with Bilstein coilovers and 200 lb springs at the rear.

Hiding behind those 7 and 8” replica Fuchs rims, wrapped in 225 and 245 Fusion ZR1 rubber, are front brakes from a 911 SC, and stock rears. Doesn’t sound like much with the power that’s on tap, but then this car is light, and the brakes have been fully refurbished with a new master cylinder, flexible hoses, caliper seals and the rest. The suspension has also been overhauled, with new bushes and joints all round.

Inside, the classic Porsche-designed cockpit has been left alone, with a three-spoke steering wheel and supplementary gauges the only new additions. Sitting into the car for the first time, I strap the harness tight and brace myself for action; this could be quite a ride.

Turning the key is cause for celebration. The Chevy cranks quickly into life and settles into that classic V8 fast/slow/fast tickover rhythm, which adds a dash of urgency to the low-slung seats and go-faster view along the sleek bonnet. I’m properly excited and we haven’t moved yet. Slipping the lever forward into second, I add a drop of gas and let out the clutch. The car slips from the kerb in a civilised fashion, encouraging me to try another gear.

Rolling on an ocean of torque, the Teener pulls effortlessly; normal speeds in third are a whole heap of fun. As we hit a stretch of smooth dual carriageway, I throw open the throttle and let the V8 sing. The Fabulous Fourteen unleashes like a cartoon Roadrunner, pouring hyperspace between us and the cars behind. This thing is more addictive than chocolate-covered coffee beans.

The direct gearshift and dependable brakes work well together. Thanks to the wider track, the steering feels fantastic. Although the front end ride is perhaps a little stiffer than I would prefer over rough roads, it’s early days for this car’s development: Bob’s only recently got it fully on the road. At the minute, he is concentrating on maximising the miles and just driving. Can’t say I blame him; it’s a wicked little grin machine.

A few days after we arrive back in the UK, I get an email from Bob about the car’s first show appearance. It’s gone down well, with lots of positive comments and face-wide smiles from those who don’t initially spot the V8 in the back. It’s all the validation needed to justify the blood, sweat and tears that went into making it.

My hat comes off to guys like Bob, who can take a concept, add weeks of work and almost single-handedly see it through to completion. This sweet little missile strikes a direct hit for men in sheds everywhere.

Jamie and I shot this piece while in California in September and October of 2009. The day was fraught, with huge traffic on the way to our rendezvous on Mulholland Drive, then the car had a few running problems and stopped on the bottom of a bumpy and incredibly busy Friday afternoon rush hour Mulholland where it was found we needed a new battery. While locating a new one, night fell. It was a DISASTER.

The schedule was tight for the remaining days, but we had flown 8,000 miles mainly to cover this car, so no way were we leaving empty handed. Jamie produced a miracle, managing to pull some of the best statics of his career out of the bag in a pitch dark car park overlooking Burbank and the valley below. We eventually finished shooting at 10.30PM, Rob having bribed security to give us some extra time.

Next day, we headed up to the hills above Malibu to shoot Bata Mataja’s 356, afterwards shooting the Singer tracking shots on the Pacific Coast Highway as the sun went down. It couldn’t have worked out better – the pic above is one of Jamie’s best-ever shots. The car made the cover of the mag for both UK and US editions. Development since then has gone really well, and we’re back to drive the car properly in April 2010. Anyway, here’s the piece:

John Glynn meets the Singer 911 prototype and its English designer, to find out whether the car is the ultimate 911, or the ultimate ego trip.

I remember the summer of 1993. My then girlfriend was a promotions manager for a record label, while I played in a band that was doing OK. Travelling to and from gigs, we’d listen to her label’s recent releases. One night, the selection was ‘Chrome’, by Catherine Wheel. The album’s intense opening track: ‘Kill Rhythm’ is still one of my favourite driving songs. It was a pleasant surprise to learn that songwriter Rob Dickinson was a fellow petrolhead, with a passion for early 911s.

Seeing Dickinson’s ‘69 911E for the first time was a real eye-opener. The car featured sports purpose references alongside original design ideas, such as a drilled plexiglass engine grille, a sweet mix of tan body, yellow stripes and green graphics, and orange surrounds to 911R rear lights. Throaty tailpipes hung beneath the 69 POR licence plate and screamed rock and roll. Its owner had once again struck exactly the right chord.

It’s been five years since I first saw that E online. Today I’m standing next to it, in a car park off Mulholland Drive: home of the infamous LA street races of the late ‘70s and early ‘80s. It’s just before sunset, and Rob and I are waiting for his latest project to arrive. The Singer Vehicle Design 911 is almost an hour late, but it’s hard to be upset when our Hollywood Hills location offers such an unbeatable view of the city below.

“You have to love this place,” declares Dickinson. “It’s all about positivity and making things happen.” Born in England, Rob came to America in 2000 to make his way in sunnier climes. Though he claims to miss “pubs and cynicism”, it’s clear that California car culture has had a major effect on his mindset. When the trailer bearing Rob’s pride and joy suddenly bursts into view, there is a tiny explosion of joy in our midst.

The Singer incorporates influences from almost every era of air-cooled 911 history: from the earliest factory prototypes through to the most contemporary R Gruppe hot rods: cars such as the trailblazing 3.6-engined early 911s built by Jeff Gamroth at Roth Sport, and Steven Harris’s sublime ‘SHtang’, built by Hayden Burvill at Wevo.

As Singer technician John Bowman prepares the car for unloading, my eyes gorge themselves on this shape, subtly different from the original in so many places. The custom front bumper and valance are first to catch my eye; deeper and more purposeful than the original, with an additional air dam under the wide central oil cooler intake signifying serious intent.

My eyes skate along the bodywork. Gone are the horn grills and old-style headlamps, replaced by bespoke front light bodies with integrated front fog lights, and clear polycarbonate headlamp lenses over brand new bi-xenon lamp units. The central fuel filler cap is functional sculpture, floating in a pool of liquid bonnet.

The scuttle panel features the 993 wiper arrangement, while inside the ‘screen sits a ‘65 rear view mirror. The parts work well together. The driver’s mirror is a Singer design, mounted through the quarterlight. The custom housing hovers zen-like in its transparent surround, simultaneously suggesting lightness and technical prowess. One look at this car tells you it was not built by an amateur.

Before leaving to become a rock star, Rob spent two years studying vehicle design at the renowned Coventry University. He then worked for a short time at Lotus Cars in his native Norfolk, before emigrating to the USA. Here’s a guy with an eye for detail and an irresistible urge to create.

After such exciting initial impressions, it’s disappointing to discover that the Singer is not yet ready to be driven in anger. As a prototype display model, built to a tight schedule for California’s summer car show season, it’s still very much in development. This is the car’s first trip on a public highway. The engine bay is stunning – tea strainers on Jenvey throttle bodies look superb – so it’s frustrating that we can’t jump in and try the 3.8 Jerry Woods/Colin “Ninemeister” Belton motor, as further fettling is required.

The front compartment is also unfinished, hence the lack of pictures, and there are many other areas still to be sorted, but none of it seems a big deal right now. As every 911 guy knows, you can forgive this shape just about anything. Good job too, as minor mechanical hiccups cause our already late photoshoot to go from bad to worse. In the end, photographic genius, stunning views and this gorgeous car come together to carry the day.

We arrive in California a week before we see the Singer, and our upcoming shoot is a hot topic amongst Porsche guys. One thing many ask is: why? What purpose does this car serve? Do Singer seriously believe they can do a better job than Porsche did over 30-plus years of development? I put the question to Rob.

“This is not about us outdoing the original. Air-cooled cars were perfect for their time, and still work well; I use my ’69 every day and love it. But in today’s environment, they’re a sizeable compromise. There are no creature comforts, and the minimal technology is old hat. There’s a hefty power deficit versus modern sports cars and, even if you freshen the look by adding ST arches and wider Fuchs, it’s still an old car that can be challenging to drive daily.

Our car comes from a different set of wants and needs. It retains that iconic profile, but the rest of the car is painted with modern-day tools; contemporary design containing an elevated degree of sophistication. Every Singer is bespoke, as every owner is unique.”

One thing is likely to be common to most prospective Singer owners: rich in money, poor in time. They will have the financial wherewithal that renders compromise unacceptable, but with a schedule prohibiting the intense process of building the ultimate daily-driving early 911 via a bodyshop or Porsche specialist. They will appreciate the ability to turn up, tick the options boxes and come back to the finished product a few months later, without having to take on a car that will still need development, months after it has been delivered.

This is why some early 911 enthusiasts will view the Singer and its raison d’être as despicable. What is an early 911 without pain? Where are the trials, the hardships, the blood, sweat and tears involved in creating a special early car? You mean they can just turn up and drive it away? That is so not right – all the fun is in making the car happen in the first place!

But should we all find it fun, trawling the forums for factory information, endless early-morning swap meets to find the right mirrors and multiple attempts at remapping new-build engines before the car begins to run right? Why not just bypass all that and jump into the perfect daily-driving early 911, with power and presence right from the word go? I can see where Rob is coming from.

The Singer is not just one man’s work. To realise his dream, Rob assembled a team focussed on delivering a credible, compromise-free classic. Starting with the bodywork, Dickinson spent 9 months at Singer’s Sun Valley HQ with Tesla car designer (and fellow 911 guy) Radu Muntean, developing a fresh, heritage-inspired exterior.

Once the look was set, the car was taken to Aria, a protoyping and design facility in Irvine, where expert clay modeller, David Harris, perfected and balanced the bodywork, and prepared it to take moulds for the production car’s carbon fibre body panels. The Singer retains only the steel doors from the original car; all other body panels are composite.

“Most car manufacturers and vehicle designers have studios in California,” notes Rob, “so the automotive community is well versed in prototyping concept car parts. This vehicle could never have been built in the UK.”

Knowing that the car would run 17” Zuffenhaus forged alloy Fuchs (9” front and 11” rear) and Michelin tyres, most of the work went into perfecting the line of the arches over the wheel and tyre combination, whilst retaining the ideal stance. Singer also experimented with a variety of wheel offsets, courtesy of California Fuchs-meister, Harvey Weidman.

The Pilot Sport Cup rubber currently fitted to the car has a very wide tread, resulting in a sidewall that protrudes well beyond the wheel rim. This is an R-compound rubber cheat, to get the widest contact patch possible on a given rim width. The pro is exceptional mechanical grip, the con is a slightly cartoonish look to the rear end from some angles. This effect will be tempered when the car is fitted with standard Pilot road tyres.

The finished wheel arches are quite different to Porsche’s own. The furthest reaches up front have a distinct flat edge, which runs down through a similar edge on the front bumper and into the ‘chops’: the vertical outer edges of the air dam. Similar treatment occurs at the the rear.

The familiar rear lights are a new part, harking back to the short wheelbase cars, where a plain lens sits in a chrome surround, moulded as part of the light body. The number plate panel is bookended by wider, chrome-plated composite bumper guards. I flick between the Singer and an iPhone picture of the rear of a ‘73 RSR in Signal Orange, with the one-piece rear bumper and black-rimmed light lenses. The Singer rear end treatment seems slightly tidier to my heretical retinas.

The race-inspired side oil filler location has been optimised to suit the aesthetic. The sills are deepened, with an almost imperceptible black strip along the bottom edge, which carries through to and around the rear bumper, invisibly rounding off the rump. Looking closely, I notice that the silencer is the same width as the space between the back lights. Excited, I check the RSR picture. Porsche did it the same. Admiration swings back in favour of the original.

Opening the door, the dark green chosen for the retro trim couldn’t be more perfect. Leather weave covers the door panels, seat and dash centres. The seats are built from 3.2 sports seats (the best chairs Porsche ever put in a car), with low backs and ‘peanut’-style headrests. The interior also features a classic-style roll hoop and, though I like the look, the thought occurs that a Ruf-like cage, tightly fitted and then trimmed over, might have been worth considering.

The rear seat treatment shows real design flair. Leather covers the seat wells, and there’s a pull-down compartment on the firewall housing rolled-up harness straps fixed to the chassis, leaving space for a fire extinguisher and other touring equipment. If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, this area should prepared to get extremely flattered.

Slipping into the comfortable seats, the dash is an old friend, with the all-important air conditioning controls disguised amidst factory switches. Face vents seem missing, but clicking down on the dashtop speaker grille causes a centre vent from a late 3.2 Carrera to lift into place. If they can get this working in production, I’ll be seriously impressed. A Sirius radio and GPS unit are part of the interior package, as is the delicate three-register clock.

While studying the modified Momo steering wheel, I spy a bit of cheeky English humour. In true Spinal Tap style, the tachometer goes to 11, and there’s a certain singer’s face emblazoned across the dial. I understand the reference, but to me it upsets the authenticity. A self-effacing grin from the designer confirms that the options here are entirely up to the client.

In our two Singer photo sessions, up on Mulholland and on the Malibu stretch of Pacific Coast Highway the following day, countless people stop to take pictures for their loved ones, or to see it for themselves in the heavenly California light. This car has had huge online exposure, and enjoyed an extremely positive reception. I hope the target audience take to it with the same enthusiasm as Joe Public. This will probably depend on the price.

As the Singer is still a prototype in the process of development, official retail prices have not been set, as full build costs are not yet known. Singer expect to start at around $240,000 for the entry-level 300 bhp car, rising up through the 360 bhp model and rounding off with the ‘ultimate’ 425 bhp version at circa $300,000.

The price point is certainly rarified, but the extensive development going into this car is not cheap. The forthcoming power steering, handling and ride quality development programme, to be conducted with with the suspension experts at Smart Racing, is expected to cost over $100,000. Rob believes the prices reflect the work involved.

“One look at the specification shows this is an expensive car to construct. The final price will attempt to strike a balance between making the car attainable and allowing us to recoup some of the enormous development costs.

It became clear very early on that, were we serious about producing our vision of an ultimate 911, price could not be an obstacle. The mantra was, if any car on the planet deserved the highest standards of design, componentry and development, it was the air-cooled Porsche 911. So unfortunately, it’s going to be expensive and not for all.”

As someone who believes everyone should turn their car into whatever they feel is right for them, I find it impossible to bear a grudge against the Singer, the vision that created it, or those who aspire to ownership. That said, were I ever in a position to afford one, I’m not entirely sure I’d write the cheque, as I enjoy the compromises that early 911s force a man to make. This may all change when we return to drive and review the car in more technical detail early next year.

While I sympathise with those who feel Singer money would be better spent on an original early car or two, I believe that, rather than substituting for early 911 ownership, the Singer is likely to complement it. Singer say that most people who have so far expressed an interest in the finished product already own a number of classic 911s. You could say that this car is preaching to the converted.

The development team’s next challenge is to ensure that the driving experience does not fall short of expectations created by the appearance. Knowing the people and the parts involved, I have little doubt that they will succeed in delivering a very special vehicle for those who can afford it.

Thanks to:

John Bowman and Tim Gregorio

Singer Vehicle Design: www.singervehicledesign.com

This month’s 911 and Porsche World magazine features another Glynn/Lipman UK classic: a piece on Derek Bell and his 928 Club Sport. Thanks to Derek’s hectic so-called retirement, the job took me a few months to set up, but it was well worth the wait: the experience was 100% fantastic from start to finish.

At the time of shooting, the car was owned by Justin Pressland, but it has since sold to a Belgian enthusiast. Partly a shame as Justin was the perfect owner: an outright aficionado of the model, who regularly used and enjoyed the car. The 928 has gone to good hands, however, and I expect to see it out and about on the European classic Porsche scene in 2010.

Jamie came up with the idea for the feature’s opening layout, and I love it. It’s a low shot of Derek looking wistfully at the car – the perfect look, captured in one take. The picture is spread over two pages and brings car and driver together perfectly. This is the beauty of working with a photo genius: get there, have some fun, the trained eye sees the BIG picture and the results are magic. Jamie also took some great panning shots though the trees around our location, but the mag didn’t run them. I think they deserve to be seen so I’ll blog a few here later.

As for Derek: what hasn’t already been said? Being a rally fan, I was never that aware of circuit racing as a kid, although I did watch a lot of the Le Mans round ups over the years. As a five-time Le Mans winner, Derek is obviously a driver par excellence, but also a very entertaining guy to spend time with, and certainly deserving of his revered status within the Porsche community.

Here’s a brilliant bit of video illustrating the genetic connection between man and machine. Ignore the 917 in the title: this is DB in the 956 at Le Mans in 1983. Observe and absorb the awesomeness of that speed along the Mulsanne Straight: a big part of why I found it such a privilege to work with Derek. We had lots of fun with the great man, and are aiming to do more with DB later this year.

“SC versus 3.2 – which is best?” A question often asked and always pointless.

When it comes to SC versus Carrera, apart from minor differences in ventilation, slightly different seats and the change to the G50 transmission, the difference is 95% engine. If you are buying, take time to try a few and decide which engine’s character you like the most. Then find the best example of your choice and keep it for life.

Rather than this year/this model/this trim/this gearbox, a good example of what YOU  like is what you should be looking for. Don’t let others make the decision as to which is best suited to you. Ignore half-baked magazine articles, making statements such as “the G50 cars are the best” – run a mile from any so-called expert who tells you this.

These cars are all minimum 20 years old now, so “this is the one to have”-type comments should be disregarded. Buy firstly on your gut feelings towards the ‘native instincts’ of the model, secondly by ensuring it is in good condition and then by ensuring it is priced accordingly.

Here is an SC/Carrera comparison article I wrote for Total 911 magazine a few years ago. The magazine billed it as a “which is best” type thing, but that is not the piece I wrote as I don’t think the question is answerable beyond a personal level. That said, my piece didn’t hold back on bigging-up the SC’s contribution to the survival of the 911, which might have underlined where my heart lay then and still does today.

This a 3,000 word feature, 500 words more than the snappier 2500 word-length employed by 911 & Porsche World magazine, so apologies for going on a bit. Think of it as the journalistic equivalent of a 3k-word 3.2 engine versus a 2500-word 3.0: ultimately not 500 words more rewarding (in my opinion).

SC/Carrera Comparison – Total 911 magazine

“You told me that your SC being stolen was the chance of your life”. I remind Raphael Caille of a previous conversation, as photographer Cusick gives Raphael’s unmarked Carrera the Total 911 photoshoot treatment. “Yes” he agrees, “but I love Franck’s SC, it’s like new!”

Behind the Marine Blue 3.2 sits Franck Marie’s superb SC Coupe, the car’s blazing Arrow Blue paint contrasting wildly with the autumnal carpet, and the shimmering dark metallic of its younger sibling. Apart from their fabulous colours, the cars are almost identical. Ferry Porsche believed continuity ensured lasting appeal, and nowhere is his philosophy more evident than at the point where SC and Carrera meet.

Standing here with these two French friends and their spotless 911s, fellow Frenchman Alphonse Karr’s famous epigram comes to mind: “Plus c’est la meme chose, plus ça change”, which translates as: “the more it changes, the more it’s the same thing”. Karr could easily have been talking about these two cars when he came up with that one.

Introduced for the 1978 model year, the arrival of the 911SC was met with moans from some enthusiasts who did not appreciate the loss of ten percent of engine power; now a purported 180bhp, as opposed to the 200bhp of the previous Carrera 3.0. A slight increase in torque, thanks to revised valve timing, did little to improve the car’s reception among diehards. The lower-power three litre 930/03 engine, the air pump now fitted to all 911s to comply with tougher European emission regulations, and the softer pedal feel of the new servo-assisted brakes, left 911 fans feeling that the development curve had just been arrested under false pretences.

Aficionados pointed their fingers at the pro-928 management, claiming the potent flat six had been cut off in its prime to give the front-engined flagship the performance advantage, at least on paper. Others gave the changes a warmer reception, welcoming the return of the classic eleven-blade engine fan for example. Less performance-driven customers, new to 911s and looking for a practical four-seater sports coupe, appreciated the certainty of the assisted brakes from cold, and the improved equipment packages available.

Broadening the 911’s appeal was never part of Porsche’s plan. The board, then led by Prof Dr Peter Fuhrmann, had decided for reasons of time and cost to retire the 911, and replace it with the 928, but strong sales figures for the SC were a spanner in the works. Demand for Butzi’s pugnacious progeny remained healthy, and by 1980, the threat of retirement had evaporated. Ferry’s autobiography, Cars are my Life, explains the situation in plain terms. “The management had no relationship with the 911: it was not their car” says Dr. Porsche. “Only later did it emerge that the 928 was not the right car to succeed the 911”.

We can maybe imagine the boardroom scenes that led to the early departure of Dr Furhmann at the end of 1980, but once new boy Peter Schutz had the helm, the change in tack was immediate. Engineers were let off the leash to catch up on the 911 and some long-overdue developments began to materialise.

The 180 bhp engine was widely reported as being more powerful than the manufacturer claimed. For 1980, the SC received a minor increase in compression, the cooling fan was changed to the slightly bigger Turbo version, the distributor regained a vacuum advance and new timing covers were fitted. Engine power rose to 188 bhp following these relatively minor modifications. Fingers were well and truly pulled out for the following model year, when the valve timing was restored to that of the Carrera 3.0, and fuel and ignition systems were tweaked to liberate a further 16 bhp. With 204 bhp now on tap, the SC finally had more power than its predecessor.

1983 was a record year for narrow-bodied 911 production, with over 12,500 cars manufactured, an increase of almost 60 percent in two years. Stuttgart had enjoyed exceptional success with the SC, and the launch of the 3.2 Carrera in 1984 put the 911 squarely in the right place at the right time. Newsweek named 1984 the Year of the Yuppie, and the reintroduction of the incomparable Carrera name was just what the market wanted. Porsche’s unassailable brand values, together with the 911’s timeless design and unbeatable practicality, made the whale-tailed Carrera an 80’s archetype, and the workforce couldn’t make them quickly enough. The 911’s iconic status was affirmed.

The cars pictured here are superb examples of their type. Since buying his 1980 SC from the original owner in 1998, Franck has added 100K kms to the previous 60K, but one is hard-pressed to find evidence of even half this total. Raph’s well-travelled 1988 Coupe has seen slightly more tarmac at 184K kms, the car having lived in Germany, Italy and the boys’ native France before coming to the UK in 2002. It serves as the owner’s daily driver for part of the year, easily dispatching the 70-mile return journey from his Hertfordshire home to Silverstone, where the 911-owning pair work for a successful race team.

“The budget was limited for my first 911, so the SC I had to start with was well used”, confesses Monsieur Caille. “When it was subsequently stolen, the insurance settlement meant I had a bit more money to spend. I was lucky enough to find a good example of what I started out looking for: a 3.2”. Raph’s feedback on Carrera versus SC stewardship is in line with what most who have owned both will say: there is very little in it.

“My Carrera is in better condition than my SC was”, declares Raphael, “so I appreciate it more. The things I like are the same for both cars. The steering feel is amazing; they are lots of fun even at low speed. I love the reliability and practicality. I’ve done 60,000 kms in 4 years of using the Carrera as a weekend and holiday car, and have never had a problem. I simply check the oil and tyres and go. I get 28 mpg without taking it too easy and the space is very good. When I come back from France I can easily get 100 bottles of wine in the car”. The torsion bar suspension gives both SC and Carrera the same underbonnet capacity and flat cabin floor. Anti-roll bars and rear torsion bars grew slightly bigger from 1986, a factory tweak presumably aimed at improving the way the cars handled their increasing weight.

Tim Scott, of Frinton-on-Sea in Essex is another ex-SC owner now running a Carrera. Tim’s current car is an ’84 Carrera Coupe, bought for a song with some work to do, and currently undergoing a refit as a lightweight road and track machine. “They don’t feel any different to me”, says Scott, who bought the Coupe having sold a spotless 930, which he believed was too nice to modify. “The strengths and weaknesses of both cars lie in exactly the same places, so they’re very similar to own and work on. Even when you start taking them apart, everything is very familiar”.

Subtle changes chronicle the 911’s progression from the 1978 SC to the eventual pensioning-off of the Carrera in 1989. Bugbears are few; most who have owned both models cite the heating, ventilation and air conditioning as their major gripes. 1986 brought improvements in this area, with bigger side and centre dash vents. That year also saw the introduction of slightly lower seat rails, which some claim offer a better connection between car and driver. The 3.5mm wider brake discs of the Carrera give slightly better thermal capacity on track days, but using modern-day pad compositions in well-maintained SC or Carrera braking systems means there isn’t much in it as far as outright one-time brake performance goes.

There were very few changes to the bodywork in 1984. The lines were smoothed as designers finally integrated the SC’s protrusive (optional) front foglights into the bodywork (the rears were similarly absorbed in 1987), shifting the radio aerial from wing top to windscreen the following year. The (optional) Carrera tail was introduced. The almost imperceptible alterations continued inside; front seat belt buckles moved off the floor to the seats, the dash gained a temperature sensor, brake warning light and 930 heater controls, sunvisors were slightly modified and so on.

The biggest changes from SC to Carrera were all within reach of the new boot badge. The engine was essentially a ‘stroked’ SC motor, the use of SC barrels and valves and a 930 crank adding 170cc to engine capacity. Redesigned forged pistons, enlarged inlet and exhaust ports, slightly bigger exhaust tubing and the adoption of a Digital Motor Electronics engine management system gave the new 911 an additional 27hp to play with, albeit at the expense of 20kg on engine weight. So was the new motor an improvement?

SC engines are generally regarded as relatively unstressed, and therefore pretty much bulletproof. It is not unusual to see an untouched SC motor with 200K miles under its belt still producing stock power or more, but 3.2 engines can be a different kettle of fish. At a recent impact bumper 911 dyno day, a stock 204 bhp SC was making its regular flywheel-extrapolated 207 bhp, while stock 231 bhp Carreras were seeing around 224 bhp, down on standard power but not entirely unexpected. Carreras can certainly go on to cover high miles, but many 911 specialists now regard 90-130K miles as possible top end rebuild time on a 3.2, even when the engine has been properly maintained. Worn valve guides and cylinders on 3.2s can be an issue, particularly when the car has been used for lots of short hops. Both factors can lead to a loss of power.

All engines can suffer from cracked or pulled head studs, and sensible owners replace the original lower-row Dilavar studs with steel before issues arise. The hydraulic timing chain tensioners introduced on the 3.2 are an acknowledged improvement over earlier spring-loaded units. The later 3.0s benefit from wider idler arms and bronze bushes, which are said to address most chain tensioning problems, but for total peace of mind, the later Carrera tensioners are easily fitted to the earlier motor. If only getting appreciably more power from these engines was as elementary.

Bob Watson is one of the UK’s leading 911 specialists, with a substantial back catalogue of 3.0 and 3.2 rebuilds and upgrades to draw on. “The ideal recipe for each of these engines is very different” says the unassuming Watson. “Starting with a healthy motor and following the ingredients precisely is the only way to do it”.

Early SC engines can have their valve timing set to the later specs, which is a good start. All SC engines respond well to the popular SSI upgrade, where the round-the-houses factory exhaust is deleted in favour of the lighter, more direct pre ‘73-style system. When combined with a sensible cam upgrade, SSIs can take a 204 bhp engine to 225 bhp or thereabouts. To go much higher on an SC involves swapping out the K-Jetronic fuel injection in favour of carbs or an EFI system, and either option will also require new pistons, as the SC’s domed design is optimised to the factory CIS setup.

The Carrera’s Motronic system may only have a fairly basic ECU, but it’s one ECU more than the SC, and opens up the potential to remap the engine management programme. Remapping the 3.2 is relatively straightforward and the results can be impressive. On the same dyno as previously mentioned, a remapped but otherwise stock ’84 Carrera with 140K kms made 254 bhp; 23 bhp over stock. Fattening the midrange torque curve with a remap has a marked impact on the way a Carrera goes, and for less than half the cost of SSIs on an SC. According to Bob Watson, going higher than this on a 3.2 can also be complicated, usually involving a displacement increase via new pistons and barrels. Some 3.2 owners shy away from SSIs, but Bob believes they work very effectively, as long as they are Carrera and not SC units, which do fit but have smaller pipework.

Real world performance is not all about who has more bhp, and even when modified to give slightly higher output, performance remains broadly similar between the two cars. Contemporary road tests show the stock 3.2 was faster than the SC to 60 mph by no more than a tenth of a second, the low end grunt of the 3.0 easily matching what a stock Carrera has to offer. The extra few cc’s and the bigger exhaust gives the 3.2 an advantage at the top end, though by the time it can show its strength, the battle has passed into licence–losing speeds.

Weight is an area where the early cars have an advantage that is sometimes overlooked. The early impact bumper cars were only moderately heavier than their predecessors, and much of the middle-age spread on subsequent models came as a result of the hot galvanising process introduced in the mid-70s, and the higher levels of specification added to later cars. Whilst the weights look more or less identical in black and white, ex-works weights are without options, and every option added is a little more on the car’s waistline and off performance.

For instance, a Carrera tail weighs 19 kilograms without the rear wiper assembly. Add a wiper, front fogs and a front chin spoiler with fixings and you are past 25 kilos. Add air conditioning and the associated tubing and wiring and you are fast approaching 100 kilos. With electric sunroofs, electric heated mirrors, electric seats and a heavier engine and gearbox all on the menu for the last of the 3.2s, it’s no wonder that high-spec narrow-bodied Carreras were eventually topping the scales at almost 1300 kilos with a full tank of fuel.

Lightening is very popular among impact bumper owners looking to improve performance. Junking the unimpressive factory air conditioning, simplifying the interior and losing some sound deadening, replacing the heavy battery with a lighter example, deleting the stock 6 speaker stereo and amplifier system, deleting the spare wheel and jack in favour of an AA card and a can of tyre sealant, replacing the heavy-when-full washer reservoir with a lighter version and losing the tail for a fibreglass ducktail, can take 150 kilos or more off the weight of a car. This is comparable to losing two decent-sized adult passengers, so is an effective way of sharpening the car’s dynamics, as well as being more or less free of charge. The bits removed can all be kept for resale, meaning there is very little effect on the car’s value.

No comparison would be complete without mentioning the time-honoured transmission debate: the 915 of the SC and pre ‘87 Carrera versus the later G50. Nowadays, this is likely to be of lesser importance in the majority of ownership situations. The most heralded feature of the G50 is its hydraulic clutch, which only makes a real difference in heavy traffic. Unless one is regularly taking an impact-bumper 911 out in the rush hour, then the ‘G50 is great’ argument is less relevant. This is not to say that the bigger G50 is not the better gearbox, but when both types are assessed in good order, the change from one ‘box to the next is not the quantum leap forward claimed by many. Prospective 911 purchases should always be judged primarily on condition, and a good 915 car is preferable to an average G50 example.

The very minor changes to this model line over the course of its life should not be seen as underdevelopment, perhaps we should instead imagine that the German translation of ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’ was hanging on the design office wall. Those entrusted with making sense of the 911 during the eleven-year lifespan of the SC and Carrera did an excellent job, but then they were working with fundamentally good material.

Had the SC been a bad car, it would have sunk without trace and done Furhmann a favour. However, with marked disregard for the management plan, the SC simply refused to stop selling. Drivers loved the car for its peerless build quality, supreme reliability, that noise and the tumultuous rush of performance, while still managing high-twenties fuel economy. The heroic SC made 911 fans out of awestruck schoolboys and car-buying adults alike, and its core strengths were carried over into the Carrera, with very little left behind.

Today, the 3.2 Carrera is seen as a motoring milestone, and the very last examples are held in high regard as a ‘best of breed’, though the truth is that there are very few real-world differences in the 911s produced between 1978 and 1989. We are unlikely to ever to hear the end of the debate between SC and Carrera owners on which is the better car, or the more authentic representation of the 911 ideal, but does it actually matter?

A 911 is much more than mere transportation. These cars are famous for striking a uniquely personal chord with their owners, and SCs and Carreras embody this concept beautifully. They may look, feel and stop and go more or less the same, but they affect their owners in completely different ways. Franck Marie loves his SC, his friend Raphael adores his 3.2 Carrera, and both are absolutely right; their immaculate cars are equally important strands of the 911 bloodline.

The best advice for those wishing to own one of these cars is simple. Start by ignoring the G50 brainwashing brigade, and the other myriad opinions from all sides on what is better and why. Drive a few good examples of both SC and Carrera, discover the one that suits you best and go with it. Take your time, find a good one, and whichever you end up owning, it is guaranteed never to disappoint.

Most of those running older cars have heard the name WEVO, in connection with uprated engine mounts, high-end 915 and G50 transmission products and rapid prototyping of very trick tuning pieces, amongst other things. Now the US-based company have turned their attention to later models, in the form of slightly stiffer engine mounts: a simple, bolt-in upgrade to the standard parts.

Factory engine mounts are a comfort-centric compromise that allow some engine and gearbox movement in spirited driving. This movement can lead to a lack of absolute control, as the drivetrain shifts out of harmony with the chassis. It also places additional stress on the suspension, which is already working hard at controlling the car.

Minimising excess drivetrain motion is a Porsche Motorsport priority. The factory fits solid engine mounts to its race cars, to firmly connect the drivetrain and chassis, maximise suspension control and enhance accuracy for the driver. But excessive noise and vibration render solid mounts unacceptable in road cars. WEVO 997 SS engine mounts fill the gap between factory road and race parts.

Whilst the attractive WEVO solution does lead to a slight increase in cabin noise, testing has shown this to be in keeping with the 911′s sporty character, and a worthwhile sacrifice for the performance benefits, including a tighter-feeling chassis that changes direction confidently, more precise gear changes and greater stability under braking. The value for money offered by these new WEVO mounts is further improved when the existing original part is overdue for replacement.

I use WEVO engine mounts, the Classic 915 shifter and shift coupler, and WEVO billet R-Lite door handles on my Continental Orange 1976 Carrera 3.0. Count me as a big fan of the products and the philosophy (and science) behind them. I’m pretty chuffed for 996 and 997 owners that they can now bolt a little bit of WEVO goodness into their cars!

Full details of the WEVO 997 SS engine mounts (and all of the other products offered by this very special manufacturer) can be found on the WEVO website at http://www.wevo.com.

This was my first piece for 911 & Porsche World magazine. I bumped into editor Steve Bennett on a track day at Snetterton (I was in the SC Cabriolet) and he asked me if I’d like my car featured. I was pretty chuffed! Matt Howell shot it at Bicester (these are Matt’s pictures). Didn’t make the cover, but there’s always next time. Reading it now, I would write a slightly different piece, but I was pleased at the time. I’ve not got a copy of the mag – should have kept one really. One of the days, I’ll convince Jamie to take some pictures of it for me. Anyway, here’s the article:

Citrus Carreras

Early impact-bumper Carreras are some of the most misunderstood 911s ever made, but they’re not bitter about it. John Glynn looks at two interesting examples, with not a lemon in sight.

The sun finally emerges from behind wispy white clouds and treats our retinas to a cascade of colour. Non-911 people looking at these cars, and their drivers of a certain age, could be forgiven for misguided references to mid-life crises, but there is more to these pukka Porsches than a bit of loud paint.

The first impact-bumper 911s arrived in the showrooms in late 1973, ready to appeal to a whole new audience. First registered in November of that year, the Lime Green car seen here is a very early 2.7 Carrera. Both American and Rest-of-World (RoW) Carreras have the same engine capacity, but while the 49-state US versions use an emissions-conscious 165 bhp K-Jetronic version of the 911S engine, RoW 2.7 Carreras feature the 210 bhp mechanically fuel-injected 2.7 engines of the ’73 RS, and are quite a different beast.

Nigel Watkins first spotted this car hidden in an Autofarm barn. Nigel, a long-term 911 enthusiast, immediately recognised race potential in the tired 2.7, and a deal was soon agreed. The colour was then metallic black, but evidence of factory Lime Green paint abounded. Ever keen on detail, Nigel decided to return the car to its original ‘74/’75-only shade.

2.7 Carreras predate the galvanising introduced for the 1976 model year, and many have fallen victim to the ravages of rust. The urge to convert corroded Carrera bodywork to ’73 spec has been too much to resist for some owners, but despite his love of the Carrera RS, Watkins chose not to backdate. A bare-metal respray in January 2006 produced this incredibly vivid vehicle, with impact bumpers intact. Nigel’s commitment to the chunky-cornered look was not in vain, as later that year, the car won a deserving Best of Show at Classic Le Mans.

Participation in the 2006 Curborough Sprint Championship also brought rewards. Following a very competitive season, Limey eventually won the championship outright. The win earned the Carrera further specialist attention, this time at the hands of Bob Watson. Bob is well regarded amongst the 911 cognoscenti, particularly for his in-house chassis dyno and excellent results on tuning MFI-equipped cars. Wrapped up for the winter in Watson’s workshop, Limey’s engine was removed for rebuilding.

A knock from cold was traced to the intermediate gear, so a lighter (drilled) steel unit from a 993 replaced the worn aluminium original. The motor was balanced and blueprinted, with a flowed crankcase, matched combustion chamber capacities and the heads polished, ported and matched to the manifolds. Once reinstalled, the engine was run-in on the dyno and tuning began. MFI pump condition is critical to horsepower, and Limey’s pump turned out to be a cracker. With tweaked fuel rates and ignition timing, the refreshed powerplant produced an excellent 237bhp.

An engine bay refurb and a transmission service, including the addition of a ZF limited slip differential, were completed at the same time. Southbound Trimmers provided the pièce de résistance by retrimming the original sports seats in proper perforated leather, lifting Limey to almost perfect condition.

The relative rarity of the 2.7-engined IB Carrera, with less than 1,550 road cars produced over two years, has brought renewed interest to the model in the last few years, with a corresponding rise in prices. Nigel’s investment in professional restoration and period detail meant Limey was now a valuable commodity. The double-edged sword of rising prices made racing the rare bird more risk than Watkins could bear. A difficult decision was made to let Limey go, in favour of a more motorsport-focussed 964RS.

Neil Dickens was the man chosen to supply Limey’s replacement. Dickens’ dealership, The Hairpin Company, had the right RS in stock, and soon found an enthusiastic new owner for the 2.7. Neil has sold many noteworthy RSs over the years, and drove the ’74 Carrera daily while the deal was going through, so has some insight on driving the 911 that straddles the line between early and impact bumper.

“The car is entertaining in its own right, and the driving pleasure is readily accessible, but it lacks that iconic effortlessness,” declares Dickens. Serial Porsche owner Vic Cohen agrees. Cohen, who has owned two RS Tourings and currently runs a brace of Blood Orange cars; a 2.4S and a 993 GT2 CS, describes the ’74 as “flat” in comparison to the all-conquering ’73. “The car had an impossible act to follow,” notes Cohen. “Even nowadays, what can match the poise of the Carrera RS?”

It’s tempting to write off the first IB Carreras as a step backwards in performance, and there’s no doubt that the weight added to IB 911s in order to maintain their marketability created a dynamic divide between old and new. But despite the shared power source, comparing ’73 RS to ’74 Carrera is not comparing apples with apples. The modern equivalent would be like comparing a 996 GT3 RS with a 997 C2: an almost irrelevant head-to-head. A significantly lightened impact-bumper machine would make a much better yardstick. Enter the orange car.

I first encountered this 1976 Carrera 3.0 on the Pelican Parts Porsche forum in 2004. The owner was GeorgeK, a Swiss 911 aficionado who at that time also owned a very nice 930 – and a ’73 RS. George is the anorak’s anorak, combining encyclopaedic 911 knowledge with a heartfelt appreciation of the heritage, and a love of the flat-six driving experience.

George bought his Carrera 3 in 1996, from much-respected Swiss Porsche specialist Alain Pfefferlé, an RS and RSR owner and hillclimb champion in his monster 935. Then finished in Copper Brown, the Carrera was wonderfully period, with two-tone sports leather in black and cream. The car was used daily for 18 months, until medical student George inherited a BMW at a bargain price. This allowed the Carrera to be taken off the road for restoration. The aim of the rebuild was to provide a fun car for use in the Swiss Alps surrounding George’s home. The shell would be repaired where necessary, strengthened where possible and then the car would be rebuilt on a lightweight RS theme.

Space is at a premium in Switzerland, and finding a place to work on the C3 was no easy task. Claudio Ciutto came to the rescue, donating a spot in the corner of his bodyshop, where the Carrera would eventually be painted. Workspace sorted, the car was stripped, and the shell and doors were sent for acid dipping.

First job on the post-dipping list was to protect the bare metal with primer, before repairing the usual IB rust spots: one b-post, windscreen corners and inner wings by bumper mounts. The work was done on a jig, as the car had previously been down the road on its roof, and this was an ideal opportunity to correct some of the lesser-quality repairs following that accident.

Myriad modifications were made to the shell. Strengthening was added to the rear shock towers and front aperture corners, and strut tower brace brackets were fabricated, all the patterns coming from an RSR. Upgraded rear anti-roll bar mounts were fitted, and superfluous holes in the tub were welded shut, including the vents above the rear window. Before a repaint in satin black, the interior was modified with a bulkhead battery master switch, lower seat rails from a late 3.2 Carrera, and welded mounts for an aluminium Heigo roll cage. The front panel was cut and boxed and a custom oil cooler installed, fed by hand-cut slots in the front valance. The rear bumper was slotted and lightened, a fibreglass valance was fitted and the bumperette holes were welded shut, pads replaced by readily available 917 race number lights. The fuel tank was enlarged for extended range and a polished 5.5-inch Fuchs rim was modified for use as a spare.

The lightweight parts fest continued. Aluminium was used for the front undertray, torsion bar covers, oil pipe clips, fuse box, smugglers’ box and centre tunnel lids, master cylinder mount, fuel sender cover and luggage compartment heater cover. The front lid is aluminium, from a 993 Supercup racer; Ciutto expertly repairing the bonnet pin and centre filler holes. In these pictures, the car is fitted with a fibreglass rear lid from an early Turbo, but it also variously runs an early fibreglass ducktail, and an aluminium 2.2S engine cover.

When it came to picking a colour, one shade stood out: Continental Orange, available for the ‘76-‘77 model years. The shell was infused with cavity wax, and thin layers of stone chip sealant were used on the underbody and wheel arches before the paint was painstakingly applied. Ten years later, the quality of Claudio’s work remains impeccable, with only a few minor blemishes visible.

Swiss vehicle safety checks are incredibly strict, insisting on cars being presented as type approved and measuring ride heights and exhaust noise levels. The C3’s mechanical parts would therefore be left more or less factory. Suspension is fairly standard: 19 and 26mm torsion bars, with stock anti-roll bars and Koni adjustable dampers. The brakes were uprated, with 964 calipers up front, 3.2 Carrera calipers in the rear and 3.2 discs all around. The magnesium-cased transmission was overhauled, with a shorter 7:31 final drive, new synchro rings and a 40% ZF limited slip diff. The engine had hydraulic tensioners fitted but was otherwise left stock.

The interior picked up a dash retrimmed in leather and a black headliner, both wrought by George’s fair hands. A pair of silly-expensive Recaro A8 lightweight recliners was installed. A Wevo shifter with elevated billet knob went in, along with the Wevo shift coupler. The wheel used here is an ex-race Momo Prototipo. Pedal box, column stalks and so on were stripped, cleaned and rebuilt. The loom was reconstructed minus now-defunct circuits such as electric windows and centre heater controls – backdated manual heat and windows having been fitted. Uprated headlamp relays were wired in. Reap Design in Middlesex rotated the tacho face, and the clock was replaced with an RSR blank. Prototype plastic exterior door handles were fitted, with RS door panels inside. Two years after starting the restoration, ‘The Orange’ was born.

Ownership following the rebuild was challenging to say the least. In September 2002, the original engine blew. C3 engines are rare, using the 6-bolt crank of the ’73 RS and early Turbo, rather than the 9-bolt version fitted to later models, so it took almost two years to find a replacement. In late 2004, an oil line failed on a mountain drive, causing more grief. George then began working overseas, so the car remained in storage. In October 2006, with a burgeoning medical career consuming more time, and a new baby on the way, the car was advertised for sale, quickly finding a new owner. A few weeks after the mountain snow melted in early 2007, The Orange was parked in my garage.

Changes to The Orange in my ownership have been few. The 7 & 9” Fuchs gained grippy 16” Michelin Pilot Sport Cup tyres, Ferodo DS3000 brake pads were fitted all round, and the heavy 18 kg battery was replaced with a lightweight Optima unit, mounted in the smuggler’s box. Seemingly strong dyno runs, showing 202 bhp at 5400 rpm, revealed a fuel pressure problem at high revs, duly rectified. With the marvellous Michelins, bulletproof brakes and a recent fuel and ignition system sort out, this little car now drives like a demon.

Torque of 255 Nm is identical to the 2.7, but the timing of the softer cams required by the K-Jetronic injection means C3 torque peaks 900 revs lower, at 4200. Combine the low-down torque with light weight, LSD, a shorter final drive and a slick Wevo-assisted shift, and you have a car built for back roads. The Recaros offer total support, and the lower seat height, higher shift knob position and reduced gear lever throw complete the perfect driving position. Stamp on the throttle in a standard C3 at 30 mph in fourth, and you’ll hit 100 almost 8 seconds faster than a 930 of the same vintage. Imagine what a lightweight feels like.

En route to our second location, I check the 2.7 in my 935 door mirror and the mile-wide grin on Dickens’ face is unmissable. Turning on to the beautifully undulating B4100, we open the throttles, our 911s living up to their exuberant exteriors. A little later we swap cars; I slide into the smooth driver’s seat of the 2.7 and prepare to be amazed.

The Orange weighs 960 kilos on an almost-empty tank, so driving the heavier 2.7 is disappointing at first. The bulkier chassis dulls the edge typical of lightweight torsion bar cars like the ’73 RS and the stripped-out C3, but something is still amiss. It is of course my own fault – I have forgotten that with wilder cams and 7300 rpm redline, Limey hides its 237 bhp higher up the range. Double-checking the rev counter and resetting my expectations, we start again.

Now the unmistakeable gruff howl of SSI heat exchangers penetrates the comfortable cabin, and at 4500 rpm, the car takes off. As the revs tear past 5500, induction and exhaust erupt in tumult, and Porsche pedigree floods through the controls. First gear, second gear, third gear come quickly, showing 40, 70, the magic ton on the speedo. The competition suspension geometry is evident; despite a weight disadvantage, this car on Yokohama A022A rubber is eminently driveable. Limey runs an original ducktail without the chin spoiler introduced in 1975 to balance the bigger tails, but the absence of front aero does not induce a noticeable tailward bias: it feels perfectly solid whatever I try. The brakes are not as sharp as expected, given that the Carrera runs Turbo discs and calipers, but a firm shove on the middle pedal calmly wipes off speed with zero drama.

For a long time, Limey has been one of my very favourite 911s, and driving it today is a very special experience. But my heart belongs to lightweight specials and to The Orange, a car I have dreamed about owning since I bought my first orange 911 on a trip to France at the age of 10. As I leave lovely Limey behind and settle back into my own Carrera, a smile runs through me. The bright C3 is lithe and alive; pulling harder, turning quicker and braking with the bite that only fewer kilograms can give. My R-Gruppe hot rod aches to be driven, and that is just fine by me.

Sandwiched between the increasingly expensive early cars and their more populous IB siblings, the ‘74-‘77 Carreras are still a bit of an unknown quantity, yet when properly set up and driven to their strengths, they inspire like few cars before or since. Good condition examples represent some of the best value for money out there, so if you’re in the market for an interesting 911, don’t be afraid to try one – you just might like it.
Thanks to:
Nigel Watkins
Bob Watson
Neil Dickens – www.thehairpincompany.co.uk
The Courtyard, Bicester – www.thecourtyard.org.uk