Overpowering, overwhelming and over here

The clever bit involves blending it all into a shape that still looks like a 911, albeit one that bears more than a passing resemblance to a 1970 flat nose Porsche 935 Group 5 silhouette racer. ‘Because,’ as Nam puts it, ‘that’s surely one of the coolest racing cars there’s ever been.’ Hence his desire not to replicate but pay homage to it with this car, 50 years later.

The styling of a car like the F-26 will always draw mixed opinions – I happen to think it looks astonishing, especially from the rear, but there are others who’ve accused it of being gauche, much like the original 935s of the 1970s, and we are each entitled to our views. What’s harder to question is what lies beneath the be-winged carbon fibre bodywork, such as the 4-litre twin-turbocharged flat-six engine, co-developed by Rothsport Racing. This looks more like a work of art than a source of mere propulsion.

Headline outputs aren’t normally defining elements of a 911 – not that this is officially a 911 – but in this instance they are spectacular, and worth exploring. Maximum power is achieved at approximately 7750rpm via three different states of boost, which can be adjusted via an ominous red button on the bottom right of the steering wheel. Level one, known as Comfort, unleashes 1.0 bar from the two centrally mounted Garrett turbochargers to generate ‘about 600bhp and 500lb ft.’

Level two, labelled Sport, goes to 1.2 bar and adds another 200bhp/200lb ft to make 800bhp and 700lb ft. And level three, also known as Doom (or Track mode) unlocks 1.5 bar of boost, which enables the motor to produce around 900bhp on regular super-unleaded – or a rather more disturbing 1067bhp and almost 900lb ft on E85 race fuel. Enough to keep you quite busy in a car that weighs only a whisker more than 1300kg with fluids, and deploys its power via a pair of admittedly wide 335-section Hoosier tyres, but which are entirely unaided in their quest to generate traction by the 295mm tyres at the front.

In order to maintain the determinedly analogue vibe, the gearbox is a six-speed manual that’s been lifted unmodified except for the selection of taller ratios from a 997 GT3. Quite how a 15-year-old gearbox design can deal with this much torque, almost three times more than it was originally asked to cope with in a GT3, is hard to comprehend. But then GW’s unceasingly likeable team of engineers is adamant that no fundamental modifications have been made, and they’ve not broken one yet.

The chassis, suspension and brakes are similarly mind frazzling in their detail, set-up and design. The chassis itself is stiffened in three different areas – across the front, in the centre rear, and right across the tail – to make it ‘250 per cent stiffer than a 993,’ says Nam via a scarily straight face. ‘And once you achieve that, all the rest of it kind of falls into place,’ he says. The rest of it being a quartet of new double wishbones at the front, an entirely new multi-link suspension at the rear, with a beautiful looking quartet of adjustable JRZ dampers that allow 15 stages of adjustment for both bump and rebound, across two difference speed ranges (above and below about 80mph) meaning you can dial the car into whatever road or track you wish to aim it at.

I didn’t get a chance to drive it on the road; that will come later says Nam, claiming that, in the right damper settings, the F-26 is at least as comfortable as his 992 Turbo, ‘because it’s a road car, so it needs to be – and is – properly usable on the public road.’

But it is on the fearsome track at Goodwood that I’m due to drive it today, so I’m relieved to discover that the final piece in the F-26 jigsaw – its brakes – appear to fit perfectly, at least on paper. These feature a vast carbon ceramic disc at each corner with six-point callipers by Brembo at the front, four at the rear, and what Gunther Werks describes as ‘a racing ABS system with upgraded brake booster’ for good measure.

The view from behind the concave, flat-bottomed wheel is pure and familiar once you climb inside and clock how perfectly the racing seat holds you in position, and how easy it is to move the seat to find a decent driving position – there are no silly harnesses to wrestle with or seats that require toolkits to adjust; instead you just get in, adjust, and go.

There’s a big central rev counter as per normal 911, and a perfectly positioned trio of pedals in the footwell. Also a wooden-topped gearlever to your right in this left-hand drive example, and even a key to the left of the steering column that needs to be twisted, not pressed, to bring it to life. There are no screens and precious few buttons to press. Except for the red one we’ve already mentioned. To begin with it all feels quite a lot like a regular old 911.

And then, boom, you twist the key and everything changes. It still feels and sounds like a 911, sort of, but experienced through some kind of surreal filter that dramatically enriches everything it does – from the sound of its engine to the clatter of its gearbox, to the weight and feel from the clutch and steering when you start to move, right down to the instant and huge reaction from the flywheel when you blip the throttle momentarily. It feels much like it looks, a crazed, almost cartoonish version of the real thing. A car whose fundamental character is familiar, yes, but at the same time wildly more extrovert in everything it does. Which is the exact vibe Nam and his team were seeking.

Yet I’m not sure even they could have anticipated how fast, scary and magnificent the F-26 would turn out to be when they started the project over two years ago.

It is definitely the fastest 911 I have driven. It might even be the fastest road car I’ve driven, full stop. And it is easily the quickest – and most exciting – car I’ve driven around Goodwood, which is scary enough at the best of times, before you go anywhere near that little red button.

I begin in Comfort, the default mode on start up, then mosey along the pitlane, wondering. What is this thing going to feel like when I let rip? If indeed I can actually bring myself to do so?

Is it going to stop properly, is it going to lurch into oversteer when I aim it at the fearsome right-hander at St Mary’s for the first time? Are the rear tyres going to light up and spit me through one of the fences that are so close to the track at Goodwood?

I did one gentle lap, as you do, during which nothing bad happened, and lots of good feelings appeared beneath my backside, through my hands, my feet and in my eyes. And ears. There were no unpredictable movements from the suspension. The control weights all felt great too, and the brakes were clearly immense, as was the acceleration. Already.

I then rotated the magic button to Sport mode and holy flaming guacamole did it take off.

There was seemingly no lag whatsoever. Instead, at just a couple of thousand revs in third gear, I opened the throttle and it went. And it stayed went until I inadvertently hit the limiter, synapses ablur, all my internal motion sensors frozen momentarily due to what they were being asked to deal with. So then I shifted up to fourth and kept on going, and then fifth. And still there was no let up, none whatsoever, not until I lifted off at heaven knows how many miles per hour to make it go away. Up until that moment the F-26 felt like it would have carried on to the moon if I’d left my foot in, and that was in Sport mode.

I then did two more laps, knowing I had just four in total, and tried to get my head round what this lunatic was actually doing. Under brakes it was incredible, mighty in how it would vaporise however much speed I was carrying either in a straight line or even into the apexes of the quicker corners if I was more gentle with the pedal. And although the steering was quite heavy, meaty in a way I’d probably want to change were it mine, the way it could change direction like a feather blown in the wind was extraordinary. Spooky, in fact, given the forces at work, and bearing in mind where the engine is mounted.

The noise was also a bit ridiculous, beautifully so. I’m not sure I’ve heard a flat-six sound or feel this good. Maybe the latest GT3 RS up at 9000rpm can match it, or perhaps this Mezger 4-litre really is The One, with a little help from Rothsport Racing.

For my final lap I rotated the button to Track, and held on. But I have to be honest and admit I only gave it everything twice. Once for about one second on the back straight down towards St Mary’s, whereupon the violence of the acceleration made me feel quite uncomfortable so I backed out almost immediately. And then again on the longer home straight out of Lavant.

Maybe you’d get used to it and eventually you’d want more. Perhaps. But on one lap, in someone else’s $1.6m car, at my age, with a lovely wife and a nice life to return to, I’m not sure it’s necessary to have this much acceleration available on a circuit like this, and at the merest twitch of your right foot. It might even be detrimental to one’s overall enjoyment of what is otherwise a quite brilliant car.

Either way, the Gunther Werks F-26 blew me away. Completely. And mostly for all the right reasons.