Full Review: The 2015 Porsche Cayman GTS Takes North Carolina

Photos: Motor Trend

A few weeks ago, we had heard about a special car that Porsche built for Motor Trend magazine. As part of an advance piece for the publication, Porsche had built two specially-equipped 2015 Cayman GTS’s, one for driving, and the other as a backup in case a bit of mud smudged the first one’s tailpipe, or something equally blasphemous.

As it turned out, the driving model was successfully delivered to Motor Trend who then had an obscenely fun time doing what every Porsche driver would love to do: taking it to a closed race track. Like any selfless, noble, casually disinterested third party, we happened to ask, just in passing, “Is anyone doing anything with the backup model?”

This Cayman is positively wicked. Since being introduced by Porsche in 2006, the Cayman—a two-seat, exceptionally well-balanced sports car—has received a variety of special versions: the Cayman S, the Cayman R, the Cayman S Sport and even a rumored—though never confirmed—Cayman RS. Never before, however, has Porsche thrown everything it has into its mid-engined sibling to the 911. This is the Cayman GTS.

Looking over its option sheet, it’s almost impossible not to sigh and offer thanks to what Porsche has been able to create in 2014: sport suspension, carbon fiber door guards, torque vectoring, ceramic composite brakes, 3.4-liter flat-six engine—the Cayman GTS weighs less than a standard Cayman, has more power, and rides substantially lower. A Cayman GTS gets Porsche’s Active Suspension Management System, which lowers it by 10 millimeters. Because ours has the sport suspension with analogue dampers, it gets lowered by an additional 10 mm beyond that, 20 overall.

As Autocar’s Steve Sutcliffe recently said, “If you are really into your subject matter, this is the Cayman GTS you would have.”

Going Nuclear

Later estimates would declare November 18, 2014 as the coldest morning in the United States since 1976. At the time, as we snagged the key and headed out to jump in our Carmine Red GTS, all we could tell was that it was properly cold. We barely had time to notice the exterior details that practically leapt into the arms of passers-by and curious fellow-drivers at stoplights.

This GTS has specially painted black accents all over to complement the GTS lettering on the sides and rear: the air intakes in the front, the headlight cleaners, the rear fascia, the wheels—all a deliciously liquid black to make the Carmine Red exterior truly pop.

“Let the brakes warm up,” one expert told us, referencing the carbon ceramics that are so indestructible that only the pads will ever need to be replaced, never the rotors. “They’ll break your collarbone.”

For a car like this, we knew that a jaunt around Cary would never do. This car needs somewhere special to go, some worthy backdrop that sets the right tone for a model so out of the ordinary, it is literally two of a kind. As we pulled up the navigation to look for an appropriate venue, our eye was drawn to a location that stood out from the Starbucks’ and shopping malls that cropped hopefully up to entice the masses for early holiday shopping and parking lot gridlock: just south of Apex in a maze of winding back roads lies the Shearon Harris Nuclear Power Plant.

We punched in the address, and let the car do the routing. This, we could tell, was going to be good.

The Bloodsport-Obsessed Kitten You Always Wanted

Turning the key in a Cayman GTS is enough to obliterate any sense you had of the day being cold. The GTS’s engine absolutely thunders to life in a way that makes us wonder if we haven’t climbed into a Cayenne by mistake. The sound is an all-encompassing extra passenger in the cockpit with you. If you come to the Cayman looking to find your quiet place, or a serene mountain lake in your mind’s eye, you should scuttle those notions right away. It howls. It screams. It wails and rails. It does not go quietly into that good night.

The second thing we noticed—after the sport seats, contrast red stitching, leather accents and the entirely suede Alcantara roof (who does that?)—was that this is the best steering wheel we have touched this year, hands down, maybe of all time. Have you ever been around a kitten and stroked its rib cage through its impossibly soft, downy fur? This is what our GTS’s steering wheel feels like. Also in suede Alcantara, it is the softest, downiest, most absolutely pleasant-to-touch steering wheel we have ever encountered.

Entirely devoid of controls for the audio and infotainment system, this wheel is for the purist, the one who is so devoted to the road that the only thing his or her fingers want to touch is the paddle shifters just behind. In fact, the only adornment to the wheel besides its textural nirvana of suede and aluminum are two pieces of dark glass that don’t catch the eye at all. It’s only when activating Sport mode, Sport Plus, or Launch Control that a subtle white text appears beneath the smoked glass, a silent reminder of what mode you’re in.

It’s an intoxicatingly restrained feature, one that reinforces the theme that for all the technology at work, Porsche went to great lengths to scale back on whelming the driver. It’s this kind of thoughtful reduction that makes this car incredibly focused on what it does best: driving.

Somewhere Out There, a Stretch of Asphalt Is Still Cooling Down

Going to the Harris Nuclear Plant is a good idea because A) it lets us blow by some bewildered economy cars on Highway 1, and B) its tree-lined back road circuit offers the perfect amount of fall leaves to streak by the windows like an autumnal golden smolder of a meteor in the air.

Many of the Cayman’s competitors have powerful engines. They warble and explode and generally have power instantly available the moment you ask for it. But you have to ask for it. What the Cayman GTS does so inextricably well—particularly in Sport Plus—is provide such a sense of being alive. It’s not just that the engine makes fantastic sounds—though it does—nor that the engine provides such a gravity-defying adrenaline rush of blitzkrieg—though it will.

The Cayman GTS has a quaking, shivering need to be pushed further and farther and faster and harder in a way that few cars are able to communicate. It is present in every tremor of its air, and in the very crackle of its aura. It is the storm about to break that makes the air seem heavy and thick. It is the pit in the bottom of your stomach before every significant moment in your life. It is the blood that pounds in your ears when you sprint flat-out, running for all that you are worth.

Alive is really the best word for it. The sounds, the smells, the tuning, the suspension—all of it conspires to make the GTS an enabler of the first degree—it is not the friend who will rein you in and keep you in check. This is the one who will push open the gate to an abandoned airplane runway and ask, “Why not?” This car feels lively to a degree that must make Porsche’s engineers, if they are reading this, sit back and clink glasses of some traditional German drink in vindication.

Conclusion

In the end, we didn’t visit the nuclear station itself. We could see its towering, steaming hulk beyond the security gates with the signs about protocol and surveillance, and we decided that they weren’t exactly open to casual visits. We did go by the Energy & Environmental Center, however, a geometrically interesting structure that resembled a cluster of crystals reaching out from the earth.

With a looping, semi-circular front drive that reaches its zenith at the main entrance of the Center, we paused for a second at the crest to look inside through our windows, not quite wanting to step out into the blistering cold.

At that moment, a man—younger guy—was hurrying out of one building toward another. Head down, neck up, no jacket, arms tucked under each other in futile protest, he saw us, and a funny thing happened.

He completely stopped. His back straightened and he stood normally for a second, exposing his neck and arms and ears to the freezing air. We gave a friendly wave, put it in Sport Plus, and as we took off down the long straight road to the highway, we could see him, still standing there in our rearview, immobile, watching our rear tires as we sped away.