Driving a Singer

A boxer in a boudoir means it’s surely a car that is designed to first and foremost look good in a well-lit garage. Perhaps a garage that doubles as a sitting room. Ferris Bueller-style. It must be a car for drooling over rather than driving.

Yes, if I had to pin-point one trait that makes people suspicious of a Porsche 911 reimagined by Singer, it would be the application of quilted linings to the engine bays. It certainly made me sceptical. Why? Because I really like driving. I’m not so hot on washing cars and retouching paintwork. My Clio 182 is far from pristine and I’m more than happy for my Escort Mk2 to have gravel fired into its arches on a rally stage. As long as both make me smile in a corner I won’t worry too much if that mysterious dent in the roof or the rip in the passenger seat go unresolved.

It doesn’t mean I don’t like a clean car. It doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a concours condition car. But I am less interested if pristine precludes proper driving. Particularly in a Porsche. And a Singer engine bay seems to say ‘look but don’t touch the throttle’.

All of which brings me to a slightly scruffy road next to a railway line in LA. I’m ensconced in the most fabulously trimmed interior. Alright, the orange isn’t for me, but the feel of the leather is sumptuous and the shape of the seat is spot on. In fact everything is exquisitely just-so. Exactly as you would expect in a car with a trimmed engine bay.

But the moment of truth is still ahead of me. Indicating right, we drive off the dropped kerb and onto a frankly terrible road. A couple of hundred yards and then it’s over the lumps of a level crossing. And already I’m smiling.

The Öhlins suspension is supple and slick. There is that lovely sense of control combined with comfort. It reminds me of the first time I drove a Pagani Zonda, because that had the same sublime ride quality that managed to shine through above almost every other facet of the car. It’s the ability to deftly track the surface of the road in a way that makes you feel intimately connected to it while at the same time not intruding. Think of it as like laying your hand on some tarmac as opposed to kneeling on it. Both let you feel the surface, but the former is definitely preferable to the latter.

(At this point I would like to take a brief pause to acknowledge that my 16-year-old self would not have believed I’d one day be able to casually write that perhaps the world’s most desirable 911 in some way reminded me of one of the world’s most desirable Italian supercars. Still baffles me. I just thought I’d mention that in case you were thinking that I take things like that for granted. Anyway, back to California…)

There is a surprisingly relaxed, welcoming nature to the whole car in fact. Take the shift of the six-speed G50 ‘box, for example. There is an ease with which you can move the lever around the gate. It’s not long-winded or baulky, it doesn’t demand that you pay it special attention every time you want to swap a cog. And this feeling extends throughout the whole car – yes, it is tactile and thrilling but it is also very approachable and therefore feels useable. Whether you were popping to the shops or embarking on a long journey, there is nothing about the car that would make you think ‘I can’t be bothered to take the 911’.

There are a couple of things that I would change. The 4-litre engine is wonderful, but it’s also so refined and so linear in its delivery that it’s almost lacking a last little bit of character. As a trace on a graph it would probably be perfect, but it feels like it has perhaps lost a bit of that ragged, rasping edge that makes the best air-cooled flat-sixes so emotional. Even if the lower revs were kept polished, I think a car like this deserves more of a top end to really reach for.

I would also set the car up to be a touch more playful in its handling. 911s are obviously known for their fantastic traction, but this one is almost too tenacious in its rear-end grip, like it’s a touch over-tyred. For me, when you feel the front start to push, when the weight bleeds away from the Prototipo in your hands, you should be able to instantly lift off the throttle and feel the weight transfer start to nibble at the rear tyres. The first part of the equation is present and correct, but the weight transfer feels like it would have to be really exaggerated to unstick the back end and curiously that makes me more nervous of pushing really hard.

So, a MoTec map and some suspension set-up tweaks for me. Easy enough. And as you can probably tell, I really am being very critical here. But I want to be, because the whole car makes you want to drive from the moment you get in and then keep on driving until you need to pop a nozzle in that beautiful central fuel filler. And when a car makes you feel like that, you want it to be perfect for you in every last detail. You want the drive to be as perfectly tailored to your dynamic desires as the seats are to your hips.

As the leather is to the engine bay.

I’m still not convinced about that. But thankfully it’s not indicative of style over substance as I think many fear. A Porsche 911 reimagined by Singer may be worthy of a gallery, but it’s also happy to be street art.