My first experience with a 944 Turbo was very memorable; I was a passenger in a ’89 Turbo at Lime Rock Park with a very experienced instructor. Though I knew he was a good driver, my 13 year old mind couldn’t cope with the way the car gained speed; I was transfixed in fear and exhilaration as the g-forces pulled my legs off the floor over the uphill. When I finally got the chance to drive one a few years later, I figured this performance was instantaneous; seeing a gap in traffic that was just large enough for a French Poodle, I popped the clutch and floored it – grasping the wheel with all my strength for the impending carrier launch that was about to occur. But as my mind played Kenny Loggin’s Danger Zone, a realization slowly crept over me – I was barely moving. I looked in the mirror, fully anticipating the crunch of impact as I was rightly rear-ended by the driver I had just cut off. But as the grill loomed large and I winced in pain, the engine came on boost – suddenly, there was no road ahead of me, only sky. The car launched forward with an enthusiasm I can still feel. I was used to quick acceleration, growing up with a E28 M5 in the family – but this car was different. The all-or-nothing throttle pedal made you feel as if only you knew how to drive the car; it was like a secret that hid supercar performance. Push a little and you’ve got an economy car getting 30 m.p.g on the highway – push a lot and you’re gaining speed in 30 m.p.h. increments:
