Porsche 718 Spyder RS review: ‘If engines could have orgasms, they would sound like this’

The 718 Spyder RS is a two-seater slice of Porsche history: the last ever mid-engined, naturally aspirated convertible masterpiece it will ever make.

The last ever mid-engined, naturally aspirated convertible masterpiece Porsche will ever make.

This will sound pitiful and no doubt inspire you to search your sewing drawer for a tiny violin, but I have become accustomed to a life of thwarted dreams. Being a man, however, and thus an idiot, I still find it almost impossible not to lust after that which I know I cannot have (I’m talking about sexy, expensive cars, not Margot Robbie again).

Happily, this means I was thrilled to discover that as much as I deeply and droolingly loved driving the Porsche 718 Spyder RS, I don’t actually want one, because its allegedly convertible roof is so stultifyingly stupid that I was almost driven to attack it with a knife.

But let us speak of love at first. Regular readers – AKA anyone intelligent with functioning eyes – will recall that my Christmas break was assailed by people and people movers, but I was wise enough to also book a Sanity Car for that pained period: a two-seater slice of Porsche history, the last ever mid-engined, naturally aspirated convertible masterpiece it will ever make.

That RS in the name means this final brilliant bow for the Boxster has been fettled by the madmen who run Porsche’s GT program and thus normally build cars more focused on race track performance. It also means they were allowed to steal the 4.0-litre flat-six engine from a 911 GT3 Cup car and squeeze it into the midriff of this pretty little beast. That means 368kW and 450Nm in something that weighs less than 1500kg, and thus a zero to 100km/h sprint of 3.4 seconds (or zero to 200km/h in 10.9) and a screaming top speed north of 300km/h.

In this case, however, the GT team were told to focus on building something with softer springs and less twitchy steering – in other words, “a driver’s car that is not track bound, that is there for the joy of old-school driving vibes, for just getting into the car and driving for the sake of driving”.

In a proper convertible, you just press a button and sit there looking smug.

The result is something entirely beyond glorious and one that delivered delight to all of the 68 people I took for a passenger ride in it, many of whom seemed to be screaming in fear, only I couldn’t hear them over the titanic, teutonic metallic marvels coming from its legendary and loud engine.

It’s also the kind of car that puts smiles on the faces of those who do but see it passing by. Rarely have I been gesticulated at so positively, and regularly, as when driving this Spyder.

The sounds the engine makes as it punches up towards 4500rpm are all Brian Cox growling (the Succession one, not the astrophysicist pop idol), and they are great, but the screaming, teeming noises that erupt as you push it from there up to its 9000rpm redline form a stratospheric symphony. If engines could have orgasms, they would sound like this.

Then there is the steering, the way it rides with those softer springs, the perfection of its size and mid-engined, rear-wheel-driven balance, the grip, the poise. I even loved the gearbox, despite it being a flappy-paddle PDK one rather than a manual, because it was just so whip-crack quick to use.

I was thankful for the stupendous brakes, of course, because something this fast is going to hurl you at things so quickly you’ll often find yourself making panicked stops, only to find you had fully centimetres to spare.

But then there is the roof, which is more like a mainsail and must be taken down and stowed away, preferably by two people, and even more preferably by two blokey types who keep their tools on the walls of their shed with little tracing shapes drawn around them.

I would then pray for dry weather, which I mostly got, but sadly I did also get some spiders making webs in my Spyder, which was a bit eerie.

In a proper convertible, you just press a button and sit there looking smug, but that wastes a lot of weight and this cursed collection of canvas on the Spyder weighs just 18.3kg – 16.5kg less than the roof found in a regular Porsche Boxster. I knew I was in trouble when the helpful Porsche PR person said she’d send me an Instagram “reel” showing me how to take my top off. Theoretically, you can stow the roof’s two separate pieces neatly in the boot hatch at the back, and perform the whole procedure in under two minutes. I never managed either of these things, and mostly just left the roof in my carport, soaked in my tears and sweat. I would then pray for dry weather, which I mostly got, but sadly I did also get some spiders making webs in my Spyder, which was a bit eerie.

Everyone kept telling me they loved this Porsche, and asking if I wanted one, and I would simply ask them if they’d like to have a go at the roof.

Normally, the thing crushing my dreams of owning this car would be the $336,800 price tag (plus another $22,610 for the Weissach package on my lovely blue version), but not this time. The Porsche 718 Spyder RS is, quite simply, the greatest car I’ve never wanted.

Porsche 718 Spyder RS

Engine: 4.0-litre flat six cylinder petrol (366kW/450Nm)

Fuel economy: 12.9 litres per 100km

Transmission: Seven-speed automatic, rear-wheel drive

Price: $336,800

Rating: 4.5/5