Porsche MALTON Lightweight Superstars

Porsche has a peerless history of producing pared-back 911s for purity in performance. Here, Total
911 samples two very different lightweights that stick to the Stuttgart axiom of ‘less is so much more’


Perhaps more than any other car manufacturer, Porsche has evangelical ethos of seeking to improve performance by creating lighter editions of its sports cars in the quest for purity in performance. Particularly evident throughout the 911’s entire lineage, the Porsche achievement of enhanced performance and durability with reduced weight stands alone.

The 2.7 RS, introduced after ten years of 911 production and well documented in recent editions of this magazine, achieved motorsport fame before becoming the holy grail of car investment legend. Later, its Rennsport successors did the same, with the water-cooled GT3 RS creating a resurgence in Porsche Cup popularity and some giant-killing performances in GT racing.

But there are other variants away from that RS moniker that can still claim ‘lightweight’ 911 status. One of these is the 3.2 Carrera Clubsport, introduced in 1987.

At the time, the Clubsport seemed to slip by with little to celebrate in competition  and visually too, you have to say it’s not exactly awe-inspiring at first glance. The changes are individually very small, including deletion of electric seats, an alloy spare wheel instead of a steel item, and no sunroof, radio or air conditioning. At face value it reads like weight saving of the Obsessive Compulsive Disorder style, but add this all up and you’ll realise that Stuttgart managed to shave 50 kilograms off the base 3.2 Carrera. While this may not seem like a lot, it should be noted that this was on a sports car that was marketed during the 17-year Rennsport hiatus proof in itself that Porsche has always harboured an obsession with lightweight 911s throughout its half-century of existence.

The famous 964 and 993 Rennsports duly followed in the Nineties, but it was the 996 GT3 RS that brought lightweight 911s into the modern era of water cooling. In ontrast to the 3.2 Clubsport, the 996 GT3 RS’s announcement in 2004 was spectacular, despite shelving only 20 kilograms off the weight of the lightest 996 Gen2 GT3. Further iterations of GT3 RS followed, of course, each shaving vital kilograms from the performance-enhanced GT3 variants on which they were based. This marks out a formidable lineage of lightweight 911s to date then, with each iteration enjoying soaring market values to boot. Some view this as changing forever the image of the 911 as the ‘everyman super car’, while to others it’s an acknowledgement in wider circles that the Porsche 911 has been under-valued for many years, and is now finding its true place as a collectable car.

Timeline of the lightweight 911

As a homage to Porsche’s featherlight obsession, we’ve brought two lightweight 911s together that have recently enjoyed a resurgence in popularity, marked by the fact they’ve both recently been  sold for north of £100,000. Parked together in their matching white hue with red wheels and side script, the Clubsport represents a pared-back 911 from the Eighties, while the first water-cooled Rennsport does so for the same axiom nearly 20 years later.

Among the vast expanse of our Yorkshire airfield, there’s a significant difference in size between the Clubsport and Rennsport 911s in front of me: the Clubsport looks so small almost petite alongside the GT3 RS. In the bright summer sunshine, there’s a significant difference in the shades of white too.

The Clubsport’s Carrera white appears a little more creamy than the stark GT3 RS paintwork. First climbing in the Clubsport for a spirited dash away from public roads, I immediately notice that lovely, solid G Series feel, though I can’t help but wonder if it will really be that much different to a conventional 3.2 Carrera. Fumbling that Eighties immobiliser fob into its slot for a moment before turning the key, I’m greeted by the lovely hunting idle that air-cooled Porsches always make for the first few moments, along with a whiff of mixture aroma before that old-generation ECU settles down.

Putting the gear lever into first (with a shorter throw linkage, more precise and defined), I give a blip on that sharp throttle, and we’re away.There appears to be a stiffness from those dampers that a standard 3.2 doesn’t have. Turn in to medium-speed corners is incredibly crisp, while a lack of sound deadening enhances that lovely sharp engine bark, encouraging you to press on as you push hard out of a corner. Much to my surprise, a tangible difference is felt from the norm. There’s a drumming in my seat back connecting me with the engine and a throttle response that is very sharp.

It’s almost as if someone had carefully blueprinted it and mounted it on stiffer engine mounts.This car has covered just 19,000 miles from new, so in deference to the fact that it’s spent long periods hibernating, I decide not to seek out that extra 300rpm over a 3.2 Carrera. My favourite B-road is around the corner, and as we turn down the tighter lanes those dampers really make themselves felt, soaking up undulating crests while the engine remains punchy and really singing, tingling my backbone. You’ve got to smile at the completeness of the setup, and while I don’t think that’s just down to those missing coat hooks and sun visors, it’s becoming obvious that those tiny details that lost rear wiper arm, door pocket lid, manual heater controls between the seats, reduced soundproofi ng, the engine blueprinting and uprated mountings all come together to deliver that lightweight motorsport-style feel. This is far more enjoyable than a blueprinted engine. Now, I’m cursing myself for not buying one of these cars when I had the chance just a few years ago.

Returning to the serenity of the airfi eld, we roll to a halt with the GT3 RS in front of us. Walking around the newer RS, I’m still trying to get the Clubsport out of my head. “That shouldn’t have happened,” I tell myself. “How did those little changes alter the drive so much?” I’ll refl ect on these thoughts later. The GT3 RS is far more contemporary motorsport, the results of the lightweight measures being instantly apparent with that caricature of a rear wing, unpainted and revealing the carbon weave. Drum your fi ngers on the rear screen, and the polycarbonate shimmers and fl exes. Peer inside, and you’ll see replacing that usual ‘lightweight’ deletion of rear seats is a stout, purposeful roll cage, fi ve-point Schroth harnesses wrapped around the cross tubes and threaded through the lightweight Recaro FIA-spec seats.

I release the boot lid and walk to the front, my fi ngertips clicking the catch as my arm lifts. There’s a curious lack of weight to the lid, giving that unexpected feeling akin to imagining a suitcase is full of bricks but actually contains feathers.

Closing the front lid, I always feel slightly nervous of pushing too hard, as if the heel of my palm might leave a dent. This is unlikely though, as the RS has a carbon composite bonnet, complete with adhesive transfer of a Porsche crest, not enamel. Yes, here’s that weight-saving thing once more.

After wriggling down into the deep Recaros, I shrug the fi ve-point harness to one side and decide to opt for the red lap and diagonal belt, as in the main we’re driving the same Yorkshire A-road route after the airfi eld. Though they’re utterly different, I want a direct comparison to the Clubsport. The engine settles down to that lovely GT3 idle, accompanied by that ‘rattling’ of the clutch and gearbox I love so much. Into fi rst, sensations are a fairly sharp clutch action and lots of crunching of gravel as the tight limited-slip differential does its shuddering while we reverse our path, following the Clubsport. Right away, this feels very different; extremely stiff, even more so than the 996 GT3 I drove just a few days earlier.

  

Very, very motorsport, the GT3 RS is every bit a racing car for the road, with this car running uprated EBC brake pads to give your thigh muscles a workout too. The lightweight treatment applied to the GT3 RS is apparent right away: second and third gears giving that seamless power delivery, with seemingly no time to return your hand to the wheel before it’s time to select the next gear. The car feels as if it weighs less than 1,000 kilograms rather than 1,360. Over the bumpy Yorkshire lanes, the rear tyres spend long periods off the fl oor, and under braking the nose darts around like a hungry anteater.

GT3 RS suspension could be set to Cup Car positions on the top mounts, and I’m wondering if this car is set like that. Visually, it has signifi cant rake when viewed from the side. For sure, the track-focused castor and camber settings mean the car needs signifi cant attention under braking to stop it diving off the heavy camber. All the while, that Mezger engine is fi lling my ears with vividly raw fl at-six sounds. I’m beginning to think that the black carpets are actually just painted on the fl oor, such is the noise. This is actually quite hard work, while ahead the Clubsport is nodding and swaying over the undulations in a far more compliant way. I’m beginning to regret not snapping that harness on.

Out onto a smoother, faster A-road, the RS is in its element. Opening up the engine through a series of smooth bends, I pass the Clubsport. A glance in the mirror through the shimmering polycarbonate window shows the older lightweight 911 getting smaller, and I’m now getting the full Rennsport effect, that purist feeling of being intricately connected to the car and the road. I’m trying to think of how to describe it other than ‘wearing it’, but while I know that sounds corny, it really is the
feeling. With urban speed limits ahead, we slowly creep back to base.

A direct comparison between these two lightweight superstars is quite irrelevant: the cars are from different generations. But do they actually have anything in common when you drive them? They’re several generations apart, the GT3 RS with signifi cantly more power and from a newer era of the ‘modern’ Porsche 911. And yet their philosophy does bring about a feeling of being distant cousins.

It’s that feeling I always get when I explore the tactility of lightweight 911s.
The Clubsport probably has more in common with the older 2.7 RS, quite classically Porsche in feel, with the GT3 RS feeling very modern. And yet the ethos of weight saving and attention to detail common to both allows that tactile interface to shine through in a remarkably common way in both cars. There’s no denying that they’re related, and indeed that they’re both lightweights, each achieving the same objective of superior performance and a very direct driving experience by shedding weight. The Clubsport accomplishes this in a far more subtle way, and of the two is the more surprising an abject lesson on how attention to detail can accomplish so much. For me, this is the surprise of the day. The GT3 RS is just as I recall it: a motorsport hero designed to achieve homologation and GT racing victories. You wouldn’t really want it as your daily driver, and yet the Clubsport undeniably could be. I fi nd it sad that this car’s value means it will now rarely be driven.

Indeed, the other common theme these two share is value an interesting comparison that is worthy of thought, with Clubsport values remaining as low as £35,000 until recently. The GT3 RS was always going to be a blue-chip value car, and never really dropped much below its original invoice price, yet as I write this, both of these cars have just been sold for very similar sums of money: in excess of £100,000. If you’re a GT3 RS owner then, it’s business as normal. If you’re a Clubsport owner, you’ve either been incredibly fortunate or quite remarkably far-sighted.