Beautiful 2003 Porsche Boxster S, Only 26,898 Miles, Loaded on 2040-cars

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'Faster. Farther.' dives into the history of Porsche racing tech

No doubt, Porsche has produced some of the best endurance racecars around, such as the turbocharged, slant-nose 935 of the 1970s and the ground-effects-enhanced 956 and 962 of the 1980s. But the company's most famous racecar, its first overall winner at the 24 Hours of Le Mans, was the 917.
The 917 embodied many of Porsche's technological achievements up to that point, such as the company's first 12- and 16-cylinder engines (the flat-16 was never used in competition), fiberglass bodies that implemented early aerodynamic practices and the use of new, exotic materials, such as magnesium and titanium.
The racecar was commissioned by the head of Porsche Motorsports, Ferdinand Piëch, to win overall at the 24 Hours of Le Mans in 1970, after he realized a loophole in the rules that allowed cars to compete with engines up to five liters in the Sport category if they were also production models. Piëch saw opportunity: the top prototype class was restricted to three liters; the production minimum to compete in Sport was 25 cars. And so, with much effort, Porsche assembled 25 "production" 4.5-liter 917s and had them parked in a neat line for the race inspectors to verify their legitimacy. It didn't take long before people realized the new Porsches were much faster than the prototype racers, with a top speed approaching 250 miles per hour.

2017 Porsche Macan GTS First Drive

Zebulon Pike, the military commander and explorer for whom America's best-known mountain is named, never reached "his" peak, even though he tried. Over 200 years later, with a grin so giddy that I blame it on the thin air at 14,114 feet, I crested the summit of Pikes Peak a tick over 14 minutes after leaving the starting line. I was behind the wheel of the most fun-to-drive crossover anyone has ever built: the Porsche Macan GTS. I can't take credit for what must be one of the fastest unmodified sprints to the top. That goes to Pikes Peak legend Jeff Zwart, who led a pack of journalists in Porsche's latest Macan up the hugely demanding paved road. Zwart wasn't piloting a Macan GTS; instead, he was behind the wheel of the 911 GT2 he drove back in 2002 when much of the route was gravel. Today's pavement provides more grip but also less room for error, Zwart told us. Unforgiving, he called the mountain. That's just what you want to hear at 6:30 a.m. when Zwart, two cars in front of you, takes off at a racing start. Pressed later, Zwart admitted he drove at a fraction of his racing pace while juggling two radios (one to communicate with us and one for park rangers to alert him to wildlife on the road) and shifting a manual transmission. Strapped into a Macan GTS, however, I found the trip plenty stressful – but that's because of the blind corners, the narrow road, the frost-heaved pavement, the blinding sun, and, of course, those unforgiving drop-offs. The polished GTS, which slots in between the mainstream Macan S and the bonkers Macan Turbo, proved unflappable. Of the Macan flavors, which will soon include a four-cylinder base model, the GTS is best suited to carving through the Rockies. Its 3.0-liter, twin-turbo V6 comes from the Macan S, but Porsche dials its boost from 14 to 17.4 psi, bringing output to 360 horsepower at 6,000 rpm (up 20) and 369 pound-feet of torque from 1,650 to 4,000 rpm (up 30). The only gearbox available is the PDK (Porsche Doppelkupplung) seven-speed dual-clutch transmission with Comfort, Sport, and Sport Plus modes. In addition to the power increase, the GTS gets a standard air suspension that sits 10 millimeters lower than the optional version for the S and the Turbo. Front brakes cribbed from the Turbo and a switchable sport exhaust with a single flapper valve round out the performance changes.

One Lap of America, with three times the madness

Instead of celebrating last weekend face down in a sombrero full of tequila-spiked OJ and a few lime wedges, 71 racing teams with one set of tires each and no support crews began Cinco De Mayo — and this year's 35th running of the One Lap of America — by hitting the wet skid pad at Tire Rack's headquarters in South Bend, Ind. There were Porsches, Vettes, Camaros and BMWs galore. There was a Miata, a vintage NSX, a Honda S2000 and even an old VW Rabbit. There were GTIs, the odd Evo and, oh yeah, six Toyotas, a couple of Vipers and a couple of GTRs. When the skidding stopped, a 2011 BMW 1M emerged triumphant and led the pack out into the heartland, where it will spend 5,000 miles this week hitting road courses, dragstrips and time trials at tracks as far west as Denver, as south as Fort Worth and then New Orleans. From there, it will barrel north through Mississippi, Alabama, Nashville, Kentucky and back home again to Tire Rack in Indiana. Twenty events, eight venues, with a three-hour window for each event. It's a nonstop, no-sleep, one-week road trip comprising 150-ish friends and brothers, partiers and pro racing drivers, spouses and other family-member combo packs. Some will never speak to each other again, some might end up divorced, some might get married. All of them are nuts. I know this because I made three laps. Three laps I will never forget.LAP ONE: 1984 Vehicle: 1984 Dodge Van Team #0: Jean Lindamood (Jennings), Walker Evans, Parnelli Jones I was present for the inaugural 1984 One Lap of America because I worked at Car and Driver back then and so did Brock Yates. He was the guy who came up with the clandestine, illegal, unsanctioned Cannonball Baker Sea-to-Shining-Sea Memorial Trophy Dash from Connecticut to Redondo Beach, Calif. It ran five times in the 1970s, with Yates joining Dan Gurney in a Ferrari Daytona for the second run. They won, Gurney insisting that "at no time did we exceed 175 miles per hour." One Lap was born of Cannonball nostalgia (read: Brock was bored), and I was beyond game for it. After securing a van from Dodge and two giant decals for the van sides, along with $5,000 in sponsorship from local Detroit Stroh's Brewery, I coaxed my friend, nine-time Baja 1000 winner Walker Evans, into running One Lap by suggesting he didn't have a hair on his ass if he refused. Then I suggested that if he didn't get his best friend and longtime road trip buddy, Parnelli Jones, to go with us, I would actually have to drive the van, too.