Okay, I’m going to die now. That is it, there is no way I’m going to survive this. We’re doing nearly 270kph, coming very close to what looks like a 90° corner and this dude has no intention of braking. Hope I’ve been good enough in this life to ensure that I don’t come back as a dung beetle in my next life (not that I believe people reincarnate into insects and animals, but that’s not the point).
Finally, he jumps on the brakes. Why aren’t there any grab handles in this car? I’m holding on to the door handle with both hands as I jerk violently forward, then right and left as the tyres screech ferociously around the corner. The seatbelt feels like it’s cutting into my chest, but I don’t care because it’s holding me in place. The car is no longer moving forward. It’s shuddering violently and we’re sliding, seemingly uncontrollably, to the left. He steers in the direction we’re sliding in, then smoothly, but quickly counter-steers, each time giving just enough to get the car back on track and just as we get back a little traction, he jabs at the accelerator, punches in the next gear and we’re hurtling towards another corner (and the tyres haven’t even stopped squealing).
All this has happened in about six seconds.
Now I know what poor old Wile E Coyote must have felt when his plan backfired and he ended up being slingshotted across our TV screens by a giant rubberband that was supposed to have disposed of the Roadrunner.
After the second corner, I started to breath again and the fear coursing through my veins quickly changed to excitement. We screeched around the Dubai Autodrome twice and when I got out of the car, I had a huge grin on my face, as my legs — no longer interested in holding me up by themselves — took me to the nearest wall.
When Porsche communications manager of the Middle East and Africa region Ghada El-Kari mentioned at lunch that she specifically didn’t order a big meal because she didn’t want anyone getting sick on the racetrack, I thought she was joking. When, after lunch, she told us that the two Porsche driving instructors would take each journo for two “hot laps” around the autodrome at the end of the day and that she had motion sickness pills if we needed them, I started to worry.
When I left Jo’burg the night before, it was about 2°C. In Dubai the next day, it was 44°C, the humidity was at an all-time high and the so-called breeze the locals were so happy about felt as pleasant as the wave of heat you feel when you make the mistake of walking too close past the oven when your mum opens the door to check on a roast.
So, given the climate, and after driving the lightning quick 911 Turbo for a few hours and realising just how manic it is, I thought long and hard about taking those motion sickness tablets before the “hot laps”. I knew that I didn’t come close to pushing the car to its limit on the raceway, but I knew our German instructors would revel in showing a bunch of international motoring journos just how little we knew about driving and I was certain they were going to push the 911 Turbo to the very edge of its abilities.
In the end, I declined the offer of the tablets and was thankful that there was nothing in me to take anything away from what it felt like to be in a car that could be thrown around a raceway to what felt like the point of no return again and again, only to cruise in to the pit lane triumphantly unscathed, except for a little smoke coming off the brakes.
The sixth generation 911 Turbo is the kind of car that’s a perfect testament to a relatively small company that found a recipe for sports car success many years ago and is doggedly sticking to it and making a healthy profit while other, much larger vehicle manufacturers are floundering.
The 911 Turbo feels exactly like a sportscar should: it’s exhilarating, it growls menacingly and rips up the tarmac whenever you allow it to, yet it’s also quite poised and laden with creature comforts.
Of course it doesn’t look very different to its predecessor, but it does have a more aggressive and squat-looking rear, the headlights are rounder, the air intakes and scoops are bigger and the rear wing moves up and out to make maximum use of airflow.
Inside, it has exquisite upholstery, electric seats, aircon and such. It also has two seats at the back, though I’m not sure why as most hobbits wouldn’t fit into that space.
Porsche Traction Management is something you will be very thankful for when the rear end kicks out violently when you’re pushing it through a corner and the ceramic brakes will bring you sharply to a breathless stop when you need it to.
And if the twin-turbo 3,6 litre engine isn’t enough for performance nutters, the 911 Turbo has an optional extra overboost feature. Press this button and the pressure inside the turbo-charger increases to give you an additional 60Nm of torque taking the torque figure up to 680Nm.
At the end of a very sweaty day, the 911 Turbo makes for a heart-stopping experience, yet it is a car that you can happily drive at legal speeds though don’t make the mistake of sneezing while you’re driving because the slightest pressure on the accelerator encourages this beast to rocket into action.