[krasuskyp]

Wow, amazing feedback gentz - too cool! You guys rock. I'll share some of these thoughts w/ Pete @ some point... apparently there's a tidal wave of pent up sentiment as such out there - he needs to hear it.

Sir Geoffalot... you sure you want to do that to yerself??? Ah, it's not all that far out. Here's the uncut version for those bored / stoopid / inclined.

Have a coupla bierz first, may help w/ the translation?:

"Justin Broughton’s 1979 Porsche 930/934

Homage to Homologation
by Paul Krasusky

Sitting decidedly upright with shoulder blades firmly planted in the Recaro Pole Position and both hands grasping the period Momo Prototipo wheel, the view ahead is paradoxically both feminine and masculine simultaneous. The juxtaposition of voluptuously sensual fender pontoons flanked by madly flared wheel arches transcends your psyche with flash glimpses of IMSA Trans Am Group 4 domination.

Homologated by Weissach in 1976, the 934 was born essentially a street 930 Turbo Carrera, with 31 produced by Porsche and ~ 400 otherwise manufactured for two years. The first racing Porsche with power windows, even the full street doorcards and bumpers were retained. Hustling 2,403lbs was Porsche’s turbocharged 3.0L belting out 485hp @ 7k redline and 434tq @ 5,400… with up to 550hp for ’77. Ginormous F&R fender flares rather comedically inflated max width to almost seven feet at 79.3”, endowing the 934 with an ultimate eff ue stance of menace and intimidation widened to oblivion. A water-to-air intercooler surnamed “Waterworks” was fed by radiators housed in the front aprons, with the added 45lbs shedding charge-air temps from 300*F to 120*F. Driven by a belt, shafts, and bevel gears, the traditional upright engine fan was mounted flat for enhanced cylinder cooling despite greater parasitic loss. Standard 930 torsion bar suspension was augmented with coil springs, monoball links, and cockpit adjustable F&R swaybars.

All said, the 934 a/k/a the Turbo RSR lapped der Nordschleife at a near-eternity 15sec faster than the Carrera RSR… enough that Derek Bell called it “a nasty little beast”. Revered in the most diehardiest Porschenut circles as one of the last racers to retain its roadgoing roots, the 934’s timeless superlative styling and supreme hammerability leaves minds agape.

Re-creating such factory idols provides an attainable outlet to the nostalgic, as an opportunity on a real 934 will run one solidly into six figures – assuming you can find one. North Carolina physician Justin Broughton’s affinity for classics within motorsports renders him surrounded by vintage Italian motorcycles and assorted purpose built Porsches. His 930 was born in 1979 in a special order red he has discerned might only exist on a handful of these cars.

Tony Miller of Noir Tech in Whittier, CA built the 3.3L based powerplant to contain such near unobtainium bits as flame ringed 935 pistons on shot-peened and nitrited rods, and 934 cams and headers. Titanium valve springs and retainers reside in single-plug, ported & polished Carrera 3.2 heads. Fuel / spark / engine management consist of a Carrera 3.2 intake manifold, an Aeromotive fuel pressure regulator, and a TEC GT EFI system with crank triggered ignition firing Electromotive coil packs. In spirit of the old school lag-tastic turbos an IKS/Garrett hybrid was fitted, its custom machined housing aimed at a KKK33 equivalent. The turbo feeds a full-bay Protomotive intercooler, with boost regulated by a cockpit adjustable knob and a TiAL wastegate.

The sum of the bits fires off 535rwhp / 490rwtq @ 1bar, sent through the stock 930 limited slip diff’d 4spd and a Tilton racing clutch. With 100octane and a skewed sense of sanity, Broughton can dial the in-cockpit boost controller (affectionately known as Dial-a-Death) safely to 1.2bar for north of 600horse sent to the rears and your eyeballs sent to your inner cranium. Stock front torsion bars and coilover rear suspension tame 17x10 and 17x13 Fikse wheels shod with 245/35 front tires and gargantuous 335/30 rear steamrollers.

As I sit in Broughton’s re-creation 934 upon stepping out of the very real 934-002 the cockpit environment is entirely familiar. Al Holbert is quoted as having said “When I get into a 911 after driving a Porsche racing car, it doesn’t feel like I’m in a completely different car”. Broughton’s re-creation features RS door cards and an RSR-style cage, and complimenting the driver’s Pole Position is a Recaro SRD for the passenger, both fitted with Deist 5pt harnesses.

As my left hand summons the ignition, a cacophonous rumble penetrates the cabin as the flat 6 barks to life. As it settles into its brutal idle lumpified by the long overlap of the 934 cams, the undulations of each stroke of every cylinder resound throughout the chassis, alerting me that this soundtrack is an experience that you must behold live in back of this beast before setting off. Arriving at the Zork Tube – 8 or so inches of straightpipe directly off of the turbo, I am greeted by an audacious BURBETTY BRAPETTY burbleburble BRAPBRAPBRAP with an underlying turbo whistle backdrop that only a heavenly lump-acious cam and a Zork combo can hope to achieve. My best attempts at stifling schoolgirl gigglage are proved feeble as I begin chuckling audibly knowing *full well* what we are about to embark upon.

Returning to the Pole Position, my left foot employs a deft yet swift engagement of the Tilton clutch as me right foot throttle-modulates through the rough and tumble cam. Regretfully such technique is lost upon modern cars, what with dual mass this and dual clutch 27spd that – much of the charm, character, and persona are sterilized from the interaction these days. Broughton’s 930/934 demonstrates its Modus Operendi exuding from every sensual curve, from every near-pornographic note. For much more money one can buy much more power, accompanied by the Bloatus Flopperendi that new cars guarantee in abundance - arguably leaving one regretfully removed from the courtship of driving. No thanks.

As the tach sweeps thru 3500 boost builds, and by 4000 the tsunami of afterburner thrust hurtles the needle into the low 7k’s before a shift is demanded – BAM! UPSHIFT… second gear evidences Groundhog Day deja-vu acceleration. Slap third with my right foot residing somewhere near what felt like the front bumper, Just Not Right is indicated on the speedo and a few frayed synapses wisely suggest lifting might just be a fitting idea here. While triple digit stability is enhanced by a DIY chin diffuser Broughton fab’d himself from aluminum, and the OE 930 calipers filled with Ferodo DS2500 pads will invariably rearrange components of grey matter, sensibility presides and engine braking commences. The best part about lifting is the raucous decelerative anarchy poppetty POP pop POPPING out the Zork, and the bahahahahaaa of the 3’ flames spewn at unlucky tailgaters – flames! Decel proves nearly as entertaining as accel, and offers another shameless opp at exploiting the full range of the tach via the full range of the archaic 4gang.

Garage queens being for country-club types and show ‘n shiners, Broughton has Xcountry’d his 930/934 @ WOT. Residing in North Carolina, he subjects it to frequent violation of such epic runs as the Tail of the Dragon and the surrounding blissful switchbacks. Broughton’s creed is the car represents all that made Porsche so amazingly great in the first place… a single minded pursuit of speed with a take-no-prisoners, unholy rawness - born of a win at all costs attitude, all built around that incredulous turbocharged flat six which puts down its thrust with unparalleled delivery. To him, his creation is sheer Porsche sensory-overload, and he confesses to feeling a bit like Derek Bell at Le Mans every time he drives it to work.

Al Holbert once proclaimed “with the Turbo it always seems like I am out of control in the damn thing. That’s the only way it goes fast. Slide it into a corner, get it pointed in the direction you want to go – which lets you get on the power much earlier.” Whomping the throttle pre-apex to account for lag and to initiate throttle steer, I am slingshotted off each apex of Carolina Motorsports Park with the thunderous surge of apparent solid rocket boosters as others are still braking. It seems Holbert is almost on board with me describing the nuance. Entering the paddock, an indelible Cheshire Grin is inscribed across a face that has been distorted by accelerative, decelerative, and cornering G’s. Those abnormalities will subside, but the effect on my soul is perspective altering.

Devoid of Fart-sensor this and Kama Sutra-ometer that, I am reminded with the sledgehammer blow that ‘this’ is the way it is supposed to be… yet all too often isn’t.

Broughton gets it."

Pete was kind enough to offer that he'd not have this much fun / excitement editing an article in... forever. Guess it had an impact 8-).

We'll see where it all goes... but it'd be nowhere w/o youses all that much is FERSURE!!!