I spent a few days in a new Porsche 911 GTS this year. This would, you'd reasonably expect, quality as my motoring highlight of 2025. And yet, through no fault of the car, I'm not sure that it was.
First, a brief, potted rundown of the GTS: we’re talking 534bhp from a new hybrid powertrain that features a 3.6-litre flat-six engine, rear-wheel drive (four-wheel drive is available) and an eight-speed gearbox, all of which is good for 0-62mph in 3.0 seconds.
It’s the sort of sports car where you only need to drive out of the car park to feel the engineering precision. Everything about it is exquisitely tuned – from the way the suspension allows you to feel the rigidity in the car without becoming brittle or jarring to the way that, in heavy acceleration, the gearbox shifts with such instantaneous response that it feels almost like a direct drive. I could go on for a long time but let’s just say that the Porsche 911 GTS is a rolling masterclass in how to build a sports car that’s usable yet feels fiercely track-ready at the twist of a drive mode button.
So why didn't a few days in this magnificent car turn out to be quite as rosy as expected? It's simple: while cars like the 911 have been getting better and better (more polished, easier to live with and faster) over the years, the roads that we drive them on have been getting less appropriate. Slower and busier. I speak largely for the UK, here, although experience in large swathes of western Europe suggests that we’re not alone in seeing our roads become much busier. As such, they necessitate lower speed limits and more maintenance. But the road maintenance often doesn’t happen, or isn’t done well, so the surface becomes worse as the years pass and the traffic grows.
Not only that, but the old whinge about cars getting bigger while our roads remain narrow is also true. The Porsche 911 is now more than two metres wide, which isn’t unusual for lots of modern cars but is very noticeable when someone’s trying to inch past your £150k, wide-body Porsche on a tight country road.
The problem, then, is that high-performance cars are now so incandescently brilliant, and so capable of doing big speeds with ease, that their abilities are becoming increasingly irrelevant on today’s roads. Even if you go out to a twisty and open bit of Wales or Scotland, you will very often be met with tourist traffic, treacherous surfaces and roads that simply don’t let you scratch that itch the way you want to – even if you’re in a 911 GTS.
Yet I still love driving. Even at normal road speeds and in mundane conditions, there’s a simple joy to driving a car that feels alive and responsive, that excites you and injects drama into your everyday journeys. My time in the 911 was memorable and fun, and the range of its abilities is nothing short of breathtaking. That’s the point, whether you’re doing 70mph on the A34, or have just completed your Silverstone PB.
But the 911 GTS also left me wondering whether we will start to see a crystallisation between cars that are bought for fun and cars that are bought for transport. And less of a demand for those cars that do both. This has long been muttered about by those of us who speculate on how personal transport and the automotive industry will evolve over the next decade; the idea that performance cars will become – not necessarily quicker – but more track-focused, more intense and more disparate to everyday cars. Essentially, the hobby car will become more prevalent, while everyday cars will become… well, more everyday.
Classic cars certainly tap into the notion of driving as more of a weekend hobby than a daily chore. And the truth is that the 911 GTS left me slightly frustrated at how brilliant the car is and yet how seldom you can extend it safely on public roads. By contrast, my creaky old 1992 Merc SL is a joy to just potter around in no matter how rubbish and clogged the roads may be, simply because it’s a complete departure from any modern car.
You see my point: that a car like the GTS, which can do 3.0 seconds to 62mph and has the sort of mid-range performance that rips your driving licence right out of your wallet and hands it directly to the police, feels like it is becoming less and less appropriate. Perhaps even less relevant, as the years tick by and our roads and attitudes to driving change. No matter how brilliant the car is – and trust me, it is.
