The Tan Hill Inn lurks in the heart of the North Yorkshire Dales. Like so much of England's most beautiful county, it's packed with eccentricity. Here is a hostelry that sits on a hilltop, relies on a generator for electricity and is 25 miles from the nearest grocery store. Its landlords, Margaret and Alec Baine, bought it on a whim but have lived there for more than 20 years.
Theirs is a strange, isolated existence but one that does have its advantages. The roads around the pub are some of the world's finest. Bereft of heavy traffic and framed by rugged countryside, they provide a stern challenge to car and driver, especially if the weather turns nasty. It's a challenge best met by something, small, rapid and grippy. Something, in fact, like a Porsche 911 Carrera 4S.
The Carrera 4S is essentially a normally aspirated Turbo, if that's not an oxymoron. It shares the flagship's wide-bodied shell, together with its suspension, 18-in. wheels and braking system. Only the loss of side air intakes and a fixed rear spoiler enables the 911 spotter to tell the two apart. To these eyes at least, it's the most appealing of the current range, mixing the more purposeful stance of the Turbo with the classic silhouette of the Carrera.
My test car was painted in an outrageous yellow hue known officially as "Speed Yellow." In the early hours of the morning, parked on a dank London street, it looked garish, which exacerbated my cynical mood as I prepared to drive north to Tan Hill. Back in the late '80s, Porsche made a "turbo-look" range that sent out all the wrong signals. These faux turbos were bought by the kind of transient customer who deserted the marque in the '90s and nearly sent it to the grave. I've never really understood the psyche of someone who can spend $80k on a car but feels the need to kid his neighbors that he's spent $120k. Could it be that Porsche, buoyant once more, is repeating its mistakes?
The car was supplied with optional (#462 each) Recaro buckets that look like they've been plucked from a racer. Inserting a bottom into them is far from easy, especially if your physique can be described as "pear shaped." Their fixed backs also turn the car into a two-seater and deny access to the vast rear luggage bay. But for the slim-hipped, they prove exceptionally comfortable and support bits I've only just discovered.
Less appealing is the carbon fiber pack, which costs a profligate $2,120. Carbon fiber is designed to add strength and save mass, but this is just cosmetic, so it does neither.
No doubt the attractive young lady in the Belgian-registered Peugeot would have agreed. As we progressed in parallel up the highway, she giggled excitedly and waved frantically in my direction. Chastising myself even as I did it, I knocked the gearlever from 6th to 3rd and teased her with the deep bass rumble of the Porsche's exhaust. I'm still unsure whether she was attracted to the car or me.
The effect of my childishness was amplified by a sports exhaust system. This $2,400 option modifies the silencers to create a sound to match anything produced by the 911 over the past 40 years. The throttle is a musical instrument, conjuring an array of sonorous crescendos that demand repetition. But at a cruise, it's as muted as the standard system, and if you're feeling self-conscious, the noise can be hushed using a switch under the bonnet. Don't even think about buying a 911 without it.
It was late morning by the time I finally swapped the drudgery of the highway for the country lanes. God was smiling, and the winter sun painted the landscape with the full spectrum of greens, golds and browns. As I dispatched the token traffic without troubling all of the 320 horses, life was momentarily idyllic.
I've written before that the Turbo is worth the $34,400 premium over the standard Carrera, but now I'm not so sure. The Carrera is, by any conventional criteria, extraordinarily fast: 0-62 mph takes a mere 5.1 sec., 100 mph arrives after 11.3 sec., and it will reach 175 mph. Third gear, which projects the car beyond 100 mph, is an overtaking tool par excellence, as it revels in the flexibility afforded by 273 lb-ft of torque.
It's also worth noting that for all the Turbo's trick electronics, it's the normally aspirated car that has the better throttle response and a sound track that's unpolluted by the hiss of forced induction. And the brakes, with less mass to service than in the Turbo, stop with an alacrity that's best described as extraordinary.
The C4S is 60mm wider than a standard Carrera, but it's still small enough to be "real world." It also sits 10mm lower to the ground, which, together with revised springs and dampers, brings an increase in composure through twisty, undulating terrain, without a meaningful diminution in the ride quality. Sometimes, cars this able are little fun. Like the school swot, their crushing competence makes them dull company.
This 911 though, is different--it gets the high grades and still beds the best-looking girl. The core to its appeal is the tactility of its controls. The steering, gearbox, brakes and throttle all share a functional harmony that's exquisite. You live with this car, experiencing its high and lows as it satiates your senses.
If you want to be a hooligan, switch off the stability control, apply brutality and revel in the slide--the steering's so good that it's easy to catch. But if sophistication is your thing, settle back, be fluent and let the Porsche carve the terrain with grace and finesse. It's difficult to think of a finer way to travel.
Deep in the Dales, I joined the lonely, single-track road that leads up to the Tan Hill Inn. In the summer, it's a haven for tourists and walkers, but it's quiet in winter. Perched by a proper coal fire--itself a rarity in contemporary England--I supped a pint of warm beer and surveyed the scene. The ceiling was a collage of postcards, while posters smothered the walls. My favorite was the one that declared, "Beer, helping ugly people have sex since 1862," which offered some hope. A hearty supper ensued before a night spent under at least two duvets.
"Tha'll have to tek it steady this morning, rather than putting toe down," said landlord Alex Baine next morning, in his clipped, Yorkshire dialect. I peered outside to see fog sprinting past the window, whipped by the wind. The Porsche looked sorry for itself, but Baine assured me that "it'll be clear be [sic] lunchtime."
Revived by a proper mug of Yorkshire tea, I headed gingerly east towards the North Yorkshire Moors. I had a plan, however absurd, to seek nourishment in Great Fryup Dale, which is 10 miles from the east coast. In contrast to the rugged undulations of the Dales, the Moors are barren and featureless. The fog was gone, but the overcast sky washed out the colors as I sprinted across the back roads.
Arriving at lunchtime, I sought the counsel of a local. Julie Jackson explained that the Dale consists of Great Fryup and Little Fryup, but that neither can muster so much as a diner. She shot me a quizzical glance and said, "You're doing what?" in a manner that terminated the discussion. With my quest thwarted, I pointed the Porsche south.
Trundling back into London, I was afforded the chance to challenge my preconceptions. I still had a few reservations about why this car will be bought, but my skepticism about its purpose had faded. The Turbo's thrust is scarcely missed, while its chassis and bodyshell affords the enthusiast a degree of extra precision and aesthetic intent for a modest premium of $13,200 over a standard, two-wheel-drive Carrera. Right now, the C4S may be the best pound-for-pound Porsche on sale.