Like fine food or artwork, handling is a subjective thing. You can quantify a suspension's performance, measuring lateral acceleration, but you can't stick a number on how easy a car is to drive quickly. Or how it makes you feel.
Except with the Porsche Cayman R. You know that bit in Spinal Tap when Nigel Tufnel brags that his amps go to 11? The 330-hp, 2,855-pound R goes to 11. Or 12, or 200. This is the rare machine that makes gods of ordinary men, a comfy-riding, unflappable corner monster that even a professional racer would have trouble finding fault with. And it's as forgiving of mistakes as they come: If you crash this, you are the type of person who could set yourself on fire making soup.
The kicker here is that the base Cayman is itself impossibly good. Which makes the R model the equivalent of sharpening an eight-inch Wüsthof to the point where it can saw through the USS Iowa. The R — depending on whom you ask at Porsche, the letter stands for Racy, Refined, or just Really Fking Good — was created through subtle changes: aluminum door skins here, stiffer springs and dampers there, and so on. But like all great cars, it's more than the sum of its parts. It's a singular, connected piece, a mid-engined rock star that snarls and dances its way into your heart.
$67,250
29/20 MPG)
29/20 MPG)
Read more: http://www.esquire.com/features/cars/best-designed-cars-2011#ixzz22fXNIbLf
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