Porsche 911 Cup Spec Race-Car Track Drive

First glance: This is not your father's 911

When I first approached this 911 Cup racing car, to be honest, I was scared. The huge tail fin is like a dining table. The wide-body wheel arches are stuffed with bald hot melt tires, and the whole body lies lower than my lazy cat. The original 911 is beautiful already, but this Cup car is like a modified monster that crawled out of hell-only it was born like this. Opening the carbon fiber door (yes, even the door handle is made of carbon fiber, as light as paper), I sat in it, and instantly understood: this was not a road car, it was a pure killing machine.

Sit in: A cockpit that makes you forget your bladder

Inside the car? don't talk to me about interiors. Dashboard? An LCD screen displays speed and basic data. Steering wheel? Detachable racing steering wheel, thin enough to be used as a cutting board. The center console is densely packed with buttons and knobs-not air conditioning and stereo, but brake balance, traction control, fire extinguisher switches, and the damn "start" button. The seats are carbon fiber bucket chairs, so wrapped that you feel like you are being hugged by a gentle giant, but it's not comfortable at all-who cares? You don't drive this car for comfort, but to chew off every inch of road on the track. I adjusted the seat and found that it couldn't be adjusted at all-it was welded to the far back position because I was 1.8 meters tall. So the driving posture is "lying down halfway and holding the steering wheel", which feels like driving a go-kart, except that the go-kart has 500 horsepower.

The moment of ignition: my ears are getting pregnant

Pressing the start button, the starter roared, and the 4.0-liter horizontally opposed six-cylinder engine woke up. Oh, my God, that sound! When idling, it is like a snoring lion, low, rough, and metallic-not at all the precise buzz of an ordinary 911. I stepped on the accelerator lightly and jumped to 3000 rpm. The sound of exhaust directly tore the air in the maintenance area of the track. The technicians opposite me covered their ears and laughed. The sound is so raw, I could have sworn it didn't have a muffler, or the muffler was just a decoration. To be honest, I almost wet my eyes when I first heard this sound-not that I was moved, but that I was shaken out of my tear glands by the sound.

Out of the pit area: It's like riding a scared wild horse

Release the clutch (yes, manual transmission!), Gently add oil and the car will bounce out. But don't be happy too early-this car really shows its fangs in the corners. I tentatively directed the first right corner, but the front of the car immediately pointed at the center of the corner, so fast that my brain couldn't react. I subconsciously wanted to apply the brakes, but immediately realized I didn't need to-the carbon ceramic brakes of the Cup race car can pull you down from 300 kilometers per hour at 100 meters away, and I was only 80 kilometers per hour. Then I made a mistake: I gave too much oil when I got out of the corner. The rear of the car immediately swung out, and I reversed the direction, and the car shook-fortunately, the "protection" in driving mode helped me pull it back. Is this car tolerant? No, not at all. It's like a strict coach, you get punished immediately for every wrong move. But when you do it right-bang on the throttle, the rear wheel grip is perfectly released and shot out of the center of the bend-I can't find words to describe the pleasure. It can only be said that it was ten times stronger than the first kiss.

Final thought: You will hate it and then fall in love with it

After ten minutes of driving, I was covered in sweat, my hands were shaking, my neck was sore, and my heart was beating wildly. I almost tripped over my leg when I got out of the car-my muscles were shaking. This is a car that people love and hate. They hate it because it is completely uncompromising, and they love it because of this. If you want air conditioning, stereo, reversing images-go buy a regular Cayenne. The 911 Cup racing car is a pure track tool in its bones. It doesn't care how you feel, it only cares about lap speed. But it was this unpretentious mechanical violence that made me laugh at the empty track for five minutes after driving off the car. This may be the closest experience I have ever had to a "professional racing driver" in my life-although I was a terrible driver, at that moment, I felt like I had some kind of spiritual connection with the lunatics speeding around Le Mans.