996 GT3 - The start of something special

I see the silver blob at the base of the valley from my vantage point as we crest the hill. I’m expecting a silver 996, so I can’t claim to have a superhero’s long-distance vision, but even half a mile away, it glints like someone turning a mirror into the sun. It’s a 996 alright and, as we get closer, unmistakably a GT3 too. That unique rear wing, the deep, rounded front and the ride height, stance and camber that somehow give it a no-nonsense aura compared to a Carrera with a factory aerokit. Shining like a diamond, 25 years young.

While it’s exciting enough just to see an early GT3, and even more so when you know you’re going to drive it, this is something else again. This is Porsche history. This is my history, in a way, because I grew up lusting after this very example in the pages of car magazines and on the telly. To come face-to-face with it now is, for someone with my Porsche obsession, quite an emotive moment and I’m sure many of you will have had similar experiences. The Shark Blue 992 GT3 I’m driving looks spectacular and offers mind-blowing performance but, just for a little while, I only have eyes for the old timer.

My own recollection is that, 25 years ago, there was an awful lot of expectation resting on this car’s sensuously smooth bodywork, following as it did from the 993 Carrera RS. The fact that it didn’t wear the RS badge, that it was heavier than the regular 996 Carrera and that it featured items such as electric windows and full carpeting also seemed unsettling. Had Porsche gone soft?They hadn’t, of course, although it nearly didn’t work out quite the way it eventually transpired. Initially, Porsche considered upgrading the new M96 water-cooled flat six engine for the car they would use for the new 1998 Supercup season. Naturally, it had to be 996-based, because promotion was an important part of the Cup recipe, but the car needed to be able to withstand the full rigours of racing. In the case of the Supercup, that meant very combative racing indeed!

Porsche instigated a significant upgrade programme for the M96, but it also embarked on a separate plan to use a new engine – or, perhaps more accurately, one that had already proven itself, albeit in another form. The obvious candidate for a basis was the 3.2-litre engine found in turbocharged form in the GT1 of the same period, related to the one in the 959 which in itself could be traced back to the original air/water-cooled engine that debuted in the 935/78 raced in Group 5 during the 1978 sports car season – the ultimate turbocharged ‘911’.



To those gods of the racing department like Norbert Singer and Herbert Ampferer, there was no doubt that the new motorsport engine should be dry-sumped. The aim was to have GT1, 2 and 3 models, although GT3 class racing as we now know it wasn’t a thing until the middle of the following decade. In the end, the old guard and engine won out and the work on the M96 formed the basis of the factory power kit with its cylinder head work and improved lubrication capabilities.

The key was that to get a GT2 in the form of a turbocharged 911, there would need to be a homologation road car. Given that Porsche would need a Turbo road car anyway, the costs for the new engine in NA and turbo form could be spread over a procurement and production number far higher than just for any future GT3 car. Head of R&D Horst Marchart was convinced and so the famous ‘Mezger’ 3.6-litre powerplant was born, fully water-cooled and with titanium rods in its GT3 guise to enable an ability to rev to 8,000rpm.
   
Building 30 Cup cars at Weissach was one thing but, if Porsche wanted to enter a GT3 racing car in FIA events, it would need to homologate it and that meant road cars. There was a window in the production schedule before the 996 Turbo began and so the order went in for 1,350 GT3s, to be finished off at Weissach. It was not a big number but then, as hard as it is for us to comprehend now, the market around such focused motorsport specials was nothing like the feverishly buoyant one it is today. After all, back then, a 993 RS could be picked up second-hand for £40,000 and the thuggish and very stiffly sprung 964 RS, lambasted in the press for being a poor road car, sank as low as £20,000 for hard-worked examples. Even the 2.7 Carrera RS was reasonably affordable. Quite simply, without the mod cons of adaptive suspension, PDK gearboxes and advanced infotainment systems, a track car in the late ’90s was a very focused, unforgiving and sometimes uncomfortable car to use on the road. Why would there be a huge audience for just such a vehicle?

Chassis ‘194’ was completed at Weissach on 16 July 1999, not long after the model had made its world debut at the 1999 Geneva Motor Show. Finished in Artic Silver Metallic, it was equipped with the Clubsport Package, a heavy-duty battery and air conditioning. As a Clubsport, its famous big-eared bucket seats were covered in fireproof cloth, not leather, and the seatbelts were changed to red. Unlike later cars, the Clubsport Spec on the 996.1 meant a more profound difference to the Comfort model beyond the aforementioned seats. It also brought a single-mass flywheel, a full roll cage (although only the rear was actually fitted to this car at the time), a battery master cut-off switch, centre console delete and less soundproofing. Even the underseal was omitted.



It was then registered by Porsche Cars Great Britain on 27 July 1999 as T670 CBL and joined the press fleet for media duties. The book pack suggests Porsche ‘delivered’ the car to itself the following day and notes that the mileage was just ‘35 miles’. As such, 194 was the first GT3 to be registered in the UK.

Heading straight into the fire of road tests, track tests, endless drift shots and numerous drivers, I’ve no doubt that 194 lived an extraordinary and highly demanding life during its time in the press fleet. Nevertheless, it wears its years very well, with current owner David Gibney having invested in tidying up the paintwork since he bought it 12 years ago.

The one thing that strikes me most of all just standing next to the car is how small, meek and mild it looks next to the 992. I won’t dwell on that now, but it appears tiny and the thought of threading it through typical British lanes is instantly appealing.

I hear it first before I drive it; David has it idling expectantly as we arrange the first shot of the day. It’s an instantly recognisable noise, so different to the educated ear than that of an M96. The GT3 engine, rather confusingly known as the M96/76 – thanks Porsche – is famous for sounding industrial when ticking over. Some might call it agricultural; I’d just call it simply wonderful. It clanks, bangs and rattles, and the uneven idle betrays the pulses of the exhaust flow. It’s almost as though it’s panting like a racehorse after a good workout. If ever an engine was unapologetic at its reason for having been put on this earth, it’s the Mezger – it’s pure motorsport.



On the inside, it’s the proper coal hole and equally unashamedly stark about it. There is black fabric and lots of black plastic with the bare minimum of comforts, save the simple Becker single din radio and the usual 996 climate control unit. Only two of the six oval switches are used, the rest a conspicuous array of blanking plates. None of this matters, of course. The bucket seats are as keen as ever in their embrace and, although I’d like the wheel to pull out just a fraction more, it’s the best driving position in a factory 996 that I can think of – low and ready for action.

It’s so easy to drive too. Demanding, yes, but easy because it’s such a pure, analogue driving experience. Once you’re in sync with it, the connection between car and driver is absolute. The clutch is a little heavy and slightly abrupt – you need to be precise with it, just as the throttle pedal doesn’t take much to elicit a yelp from the flat six behind. It takes a little skill and experience to manoeuvre around at walking pace.

Once you’re moving, though, it’s impossible not to smile – or grin manically, in my case. There isn’t one standout feature; rather the GT3 as a package is addictive. What once seemed like a very firm riding car now feels merely on the aggressive side compared to some modern super sports cars obsessed with lap times. The GT3 likes to have a little wander over cambers at times, but it’s hardly what you could call distracted and the resulting feedback through the steering is sublime.

Through a 90˚ corner, you can feel the different stages as it runs through. Slight understeer if you’ve failed to transfer the weight and get it turned in; a willingness to oversteer past the apex if you’re aggressive on the throttle.



Then there’s the engine. It’s rattly and growly low down but, once over 3,000rpm, it clears its throat and releases that beautiful characteristic note, like playing a chord on the pipe organ in Stuttgart Cathedral. It’s a signature writ large through all Mezger-powered GT3 cars and I’ve just realised how much I miss it in the modern cars, even if they still sound great. Keep the revs rising and the GT3 continues to build acceleration. It always feels quicker than the raw numbers – 360hp – suggest, probably because it’s lighter than any modern 911 by some margin. What isn’t there at this early stage in the GT3’s life is that crazed lunge for the redline and the piercing shriek. It howls, yes, and it’s addictive, but it wasn’t until the Gen 2 996 GT3 and its 381hp/8,000rpm redline that the GT3 really gained the explosive top end that the type has become synonymous with.

Neither are the brakes quite to the standard that has become expected of a GT product. The original four pot front callipers looked respectable in their day, but they can be prone to fade on track and, even on the road, they lack the fabulous bite of later cars. It was another element developed on the Gen 2 model.
It’s difficult to conceive now of a performance car landscape, let alone a Porsche one, without the 911 GT3. It has come to utterly dominate the high-end trackday market, where pitlanes throughout the world are composed largely of 911s with those three digits on their rump. Just to be able to purchase one is often a mission in itself now, given the demand just to get on the order book – and the attraction of receiving one and then instantly turning it into pure profit.

The GT3 model line is more than a car; it’s become an institution. It’s all a far cry from those days back in 1999 when Porsche rather meekly presented a new breed of road racer with a direct link to the racetrack. No one could have known then how the market would develop, but one thing is for sure and that’s that the appeal of the 996.1 GT3 will never wane. It is a car of rare character and appeal, more than worthy to stand in comparison with the very greatest the Porsche marque has created – and that’s saying a great deal indeed. As this drive has reminded me, and as so many people have discovered in the 25 years since its inception, there really is no substitute for a GT3.