Or much more unadulterated. Big
blasts through the twin-pipes on
overrun are common both as you wind
your way through the gears and as you
shift down for that juicy right-hand
sweeper coming up; the first time I ever
experienced the Spyder’s exhaust note
was actually from outside the car and
it had my ears ringing; ears tuned from
many days spent at the race track and
at the wheel of some pretty loud cars. I
guess what I’m saying is to get ready for
a startled look or two as you pull up to
valet stand.
Chances are you won’t be there for
long, though, as you’ll want to get
back out on that road to once again
experience the detailed steering, linear
power delivery, manual controls and
whip-crack performance. It’s hard to
stop for long in this car, I can tell you
that.
So, does the Spyder unseat my
deep-seeded love for the GTS? Well, I
guess that depends. On the one hand,
you’ve got the Spyder with the power,
the tuning, that roof and all, which is
all gravy. On the other, though, sits the
GTS with its no-holds-barred focus on
motoring, and who cares that its roof
doesn’t require hinges fashioned by Da
Vinci’s third cousin once removed on his
mother’s side?
Then there’s the pricing; the GTS that
was tested rang it at pretty much the
same price as did the Spyder, except
the GTS had everything and the kitchen
sink on its spec sheet; the Spyder didn’t
even have a back-up cam and the door
pulls are nylon straps, for goodness
sake!
What all this translates to, though, is
that the Spyder is the most hardcore
Boxster we’ve ever seen, and that alone
makes it a winner in my book. The
Spyder is fantastic, and if the last one
is anything to go by, it will have the
collectability to boot. Bravo. TDM
thedriver.ca
9