IF you ever want to annoy a motoring
writer — and who wouldn’t? — demand to know their favourite car. They
roll their eyes, implying you are an idiot for asking, then issue some
cryptic platitude like “The next one”. Push beyond the boundaries of
politeness, however, and eventually they add, “ ... but nothing drives
like a Porsche”.
Is that right? There’s nowhere better to find out than Porsche’s
Sport Driving School at Mount Cotton, half an hour south of Brisbane.The 45ha complex is a bitumen fantasy of skid pans and slaloms, cross-country trails and a closed road track. Gathered for the morning briefing is a group of about 20 enthusiasts. Some of them are real Porsche owners, and there is one pretend Porsche owner, thanks to the Boxster I have just collected from Hertz at the airport.
We’re here for the precision driving course, the first of four levels of training offered by the school leading, if you’re good enough, to the GT3 Cup course in a racing car, on a proper racetrack. We are nowhere near that level, but the beginner’s course is informative and entertaining.
Chief instructor Tomas Mezera, who won Bathurst in 1988 at his first attempt, starts with the basics and, sure enough, we are shown how to position the seat and how to hold the wheel. Then we split into three groups and head to different parts of the training area to start driving.
First, however, we learn to stop. In a brilliantly simple demonstration, we are invited to predict where the 911 will stop from 40km/h, and are astonished when it pulls up almost in its own length. At 80, though, the car sails way beyond where any of us have guessed. It’s a graphic lesson in what distance to leave at freeway speeds.
“But if you do that some dickhead jumps into the gap,” one of our number protests. The instructor reveals his solution to this eternal problem: “You drop back,” he says. “Get wherever you’re going a couple of minutes later.”
The pros get their thrills at ridiculous speed on the track, amid equally gifted and experienced drivers, not by mixing it with hoons and drunks. On public roads attack turns into very cautious defence. I’m making mental notes to repeat all this to my L-plate daughter; I wish every teenager in Australia could watch and listen.
Then into the vehicles to get a feel of what the brakes can do. Being much older than ABS, I cannot quite believe I can stamp on the pedal as hard as I do without the car sliding all over the place.
Reassured, it’s on to the slalom course where we are timed in three different cars — Boxster, 911 Cabriolet and Macan turbo — seconds added on for hitting cones or overshooting the stop line. I keep hitting the same cone and note with dismay that a pretty girl 30 years younger than me is beating me, but put it down to the 45kg weight advantage. I’m also being beaten by a much bigger man, so put that down to weight advantage too.
After lunch the skid pan is splendid fun. The cars for this exercise have virtually no tread on their tyres, a mixture of fuel oil and water is spread all over the concrete and the traction controls are switched off. The result is hilarious but instructive: oversteer and understeer, and tips on how to recover skids. We slide around like sugar-loaded toddlers until we’re called in for the serious stuff.
If you were looking for a definition of the word disconcerting, recognising your passenger from the Bathurst 1000 TV coverage might do the trick. Alex Davison, one of the instructors, finished fourth on the mountain in October, and now has the pleasure of being chauffeured in a Carrera 4S around the switchback road circuit.
Fortunately I have been in cars with racing drivers before, and know how unutterably pointless it is to try to impress them, so I promise Alex a gentle ride; in return he points out the racing lines, when to brake and how hard to accelerate.
After a couple of laps I am running at what I consider a most remarkable speed. Then we transfer to a GT3 with Alex at the wheel, and — well, you know what happens next. Suffice to say everyone should have this experience: it’s rare to acquire so much humility in so short a time.
Later, heading into town with the top down, I’ve fallen under the Boxster’s spell. Its balance is extraordinary; a couple of the instructors confide that for pure driving pleasure they’d pick it over the more powerful 911s. As a hire car it’s a wild extravagance, but don’t we all deserve a little treat?
Back in Sydney, I climb into my own car and wonder who’s been at it while I was away. Someone seems to have loosened the steering wheel, replaced the shock absorbers with marshmallows and cut the brake lines.
Newly converted, I find myself accosting strangers to talk about the day at Mount Cotton.
“I mocked them, but it’s true,” I whisper. “Nothing drives like a Porsche.”
Steve Waterson was a guest of Porsche and Hertz. More: porsche.com/australia; hertz.com.au
