And dammit, a real Porsche must be shaped like a bathtub and, like that bathroom fixture, must have all of its mechanicals hanging out at one end – the rear.
Enter the Cayman: a stiffer, more aggressive Boxster with a welded-on-with-testosterone roof. It isn’t exactly a bathtub – more a Jacuzzi, with shallow ridges around the end and a deeper section in the middle – and the engine isn’t quite at the rear, but it is at least close.
The Cayman isn’t a 911, but it is definitely a Porsche, in much the same way that, despite decades of fighting it, we’re all a bit like our parents. It has similar but more youthful looks both inside and out, and the Cayman’s sounds and feel are 911-like, too, but harder-edged and nimbler. It’s not easy when your father is the Keith Richards of sports cars, though, rocking the world and thrusting his hips since the mid-’60s. The Cayman handles that pressure well, and doesn’t go for mimicry. It’s more down-to-earth, more refined and better mannered. But get it out on a track and, well, you know what they say . . . like father, like son.
Source: Motive Magazine