2020 Porsche Taycan Turbo S First Test: Lächerlich Mode

Here’s a fun story: In 2004, Elon Musk—his pockets full of PayPal profits—walked into the offices of AC Propulsion in the L.A. suburb of San Dimas with some questions. Among them was whether they’d convert his Porsche 911 Turbo into an electric car. He was willing to pay a pretty penny (reportedly $250,000) for it. But Alan Cocconi, AC’s live-wire founder said sorry, no thanks. So Tom Gage, Cocconi’s (likely bewildered) business partner, referred Musk to a promising EV start-up they both knew of.

And that, kids, is (approximately) where the Tesla saga began. Would Tesla exist today (presently, the second-most valuable car company in the world) if Elon had simply gotten his damn electric 911 from Cocconi?

Sixteen years later, Elon can finally drive an electric Porsche Turbo S, and at a billionaire’s-bargain price of $186,350 (our tester rings up at $205,360, all-in). But it would be dreadful optics, because the Wizard of Watts would be driving the Taycan Turbo S, Stuttgart’s four-door, four-seat counterattack against Tesla’s recurring, gauche habit of crashing the private soirees of Europe’s gasoline-combusting elite.

That said, Stuttgart appears to have been taking careful notes in regard to this Silicon Valley upstart.

The Taycan Turbo S traces the Model S’ (probably unavoidable) broad-brush blueprint: dual motors—one front, another in back—all-wheel drive, a battery floor, Ludicrous performance (that’s Lächerlich in German), a frunk up front, all enveloped in an slick, fuselage skin.

The Taycan’s panoramic, fixed glass roof imitates the Tesla’s copper color when sprinkled with rain (due to the same UV-reflective layer). And traveling Taycans are mainly replenished by a respectable knock-off of Tesla’s Supercharger oases—the fast-expanding Electrify America network.

But in the other category—the ways in which they’re different—they’re starkly different. These days, the Model S’ front motor is basically the Model 3’s permanent-magnet rear motor (part of what defines the latest Raven architecture). Its rear one is the slightly less efficient inductive type—but it offers the neat trick of being de-energizable (switchable on and off) so it can freewheel during light-load cruising, making it more efficient.

In contrast, both of the Porsche’s motors (a combined 750 hp) are permanent magnet, so the rear motor’s decoupling (while in efficient Range mode) is necessarily mechanical, and moreover, bundled with a two-speed transmission for both better low- and high-speed performance. Tesla tried that with its original Roadster a decade ago; the struggle to tame the gearshift’s hammering torque hit nearly put the fledgling automaker out of business.

You may have read Chris Walton’s notes from the dragstrip. If not, here’s the TL;DR version. First, Walton rotates the steering wheel’s performance dial clockwise to Sport+, his left thigh stiffening as he compresses the brake pedal, holding the car still. His right foot slowly plunges into the accelerator. The Taycan sits eerily silent, like the first atom bomb at T-minus one before detonating at Trinity. Walton abruptly releases the brake, triggering it.

“The first thing I noticed is that the Taycan doesn’t squat when it launches. It stays flat to maintain some weight over the front tires,” he notes later, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. Porsche’s height-adjusting air suspension was keeping it plumb-level, “and it does what feels like an imminent burn out until about 40 mph.”

Rotating my head fast enough to visually track the wheels, the tires were clearly spasming with incipient wheelspin as the car disappears to 60 mph (in 2.4 seconds) and beyond—shrinking, shrinking, puff … gone. “I can feel it shift into second gear just over 60 mph,” Walton said, “and then it continues to accelerate very hard.” Just 8.1 seconds after it hit 60, the Taycan barreled toward escape velocity, flashing through the quarter mile at 130.7 mph.

On to the figure eight. The Porsche engineer said I might be better off with stability and traction control left on, but I thumbed the button on the instrument display’s right side anyway to defeat it. The Model S’ system can’t be deactivated; the Model 3’s Track mode behaves exactly the opposite—it’s almost monkey-dance exuberant. I was curious to feel the Porsche’s naked, unembellished handling.

At 81 mph, I spot my secret crack in the asphalt (shhh) and stab the brake pedal. It feels a little soft (it’s a by-wire system), but geez, this is a 5,109-pound car—that’s seven baby grand pianos—that Walton already proved can be halted in 103 feet from 60 mph. Its 16.5-in front and 16.1-in rear carbon-ceramic discs are apparently automobiledom’s version of an aircraft carrier’s arrester wires.

As I enter the turn, despite the Taycan’s nicely balanced weight distribution, a quick steering twist warps the tires’ sidewalls (265/305-mm front/rear Pirelli P Zero NF0 Elects) into 1.02 g’s of seven-piano understeer. Exiting, it walks the tail around at a very sassy angle, before it pulses to the next braking point.

Before we delve into the Taycan’s inner self, here’s a potpourri of overall observations. Numerology: It’s 98 percent of a Panamera GTS’ length but 109 percent of its weight, and yet already hits 60 mph in the time it takes the Panamera to reach 50. Despite its eliciting regular hoots and thumbs-ups from passersby, I think the Taycan’s design tilts too understated for a 2.4-second car with the legendary ‘Turbo S’ on its rump. And the battery pack is impressively large (93.4 kW-hr), giving what it sacrifices to provide holes for the rear passengers’ feet (lowering knee height).

Then there’s the synthesized drivetrain sound that’s a techno mix of the motor’s actual soundprint. In Sport mode it’s the whoosh of a high-speed elevator headed for the 77th floor; switch to Sport+, and you’re checking the mirror for Lord Voldemort in the back seat.

Let’s check the surprising list of ergonomic quirks: The shifter toggle is perfectly hidden by the steering wheel rim (I sometimes turned the wipers on). The side mirror controls are more easily reached by a rear passenger; the critical rear glass is an oblong porthole, and the panoramic roof provides a vista view of clouds and birds and whatever else is up there you shouldn’t be looking at.

The night after our track test session, I drove north through the desert out to Barstow, windows down, heater on full blast to quickly exhaust the battery before I clocked its recharge time at a super-duper 350-kW Electrify America charger. It thumped over bumps with Porsche’s usual girder solidity. Lifting the accelerator brings either ‘sailing’ (no drivetrain resistance) or a regen rate that’s too wispy for one-foot canyoning (a third, heavier rate is needed).

At 75 mph, I scanned across the Taycan’s slick, colorful, starship display panels. Listened to the motor’s sampled siren. And wondered: Are you really a Porsche? Do you have passion? Do you hold true to the Porsche heritage? Here lies the Taycan’s central question.

My thoughts drifted back to last year, when I ambled an electric Jaguar iPace along Pacific Coast Highway toward Newport Beach in an 11 p.m. drizzle. I got to thinking about this concept of automotive history and brand heritage so deeply that, when I got home, I fired up my 1959 Austin-Healey Bugeye Sprite—a concentrated shot glass of ancient car charisma—and at midnight headed right back out to compare it to the modern, electrified Jag. Back to back, the iPace struck me as a hologram of a Jaguar.

Our ancient caveman attraction to fire’s warmth and crackle—today, carried around with us in more civilized cylinders—is bred deep in our bones. In the Jag, I was in the cold, jungle night, with silvery cat eyes peering from the trees.

Driving that Taycan along that same PCH route to work, I stopped at a light, north of Huntington Beach with a view of the Palos Verdes peninsula looking like a pile of jewels spilling into the Pacific. A postcard, if you Photoshopped out the carpet of black smoke from L.A. Harbor coiled around the base of the hill.

Stuttgart’s turn to insert Porsche DNA into the cool, sterile electric car has sparked life; in several ways, it’s notably better-driving than any gasoline Panamera. The Taycan also answers the Jeopardy question: What is the Porsche we need for a livable planet?

And better yet, it’s a Porsche you’ll also really, really, want.

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Source: WORLD NEWS