| As the formal press introduction for the revamped Porsche Cayman S broke up and the international mix of scribes (including some Russians for the first time in my experience) clicked off their interpreter headsets, it was time to mingle around and ask some questions. First stop: the cut-away display of the new doppelkupplung transmission. Or for those of us stumped by words that appear to have come out of the operating manual of a U-Boat, the Porsche double-clutch gearbox, or just PDK for short.
Pointing to the PDK's various exposed innards, I kept trying to cajole a Porsche engineer, through an interpreter, into explaining what's really so different here from the double-clutch trannies right now in Audi and Mitsubishi showrooms. The engineer would stare at the interpreter, listening. Then pause for a long time. And then, almost reluctantly, point to what seemed to me to be minor details: an unusually located oil pump, Or maybe a small, oil-delivery channel to a bearing. To be honest, I was starting to feel sorry for the guy. There didn't appear to be very much original here at all; and then I realized what a short-sighted viewpoint this is. 
I mean, this whole, glistening beehive of meshing teeth and concentric clutches was Porsche's baby in the first place. It's just...er, spent a rather long time in the oven. Back in 1981, a PDK-same basic idea-furtively appeared in a 956 race car, and then was quietly salted away until it was deemed that Moore's law of ever-doubling computer power had finally caught up with the necessary software.
After driving a couple of Cayman S's fitted with the thing, I'd say the computing power has caught up rather nicely. It's tempting the wrath of some of you, but I now think the concept of traditional manual shifting ought to be officially boxed up and quietly placed into the technological attic alongside crank-starting and diddling with ignition-advance levers on the steering column. While Porsche's PDK is actually replacing its automatic-based Tiptronic transmissions, inevitably it's going to slowly marginalize the traditional heel-and-toe manual right into oblivion. Trust me, the day will come when the last of its octogenarian practitioners finally has a hip replacement and just can't crook that arthritic old right leg sideways anymore. And that will be that. (Until then, last year's five-speed manual gains an extra cog for those of you hopelessly fixated on slow, inexact shifting).
If you overlay the PDK's details atop today's typical double-clutch fare, what stands out most is its exquisitely subtle software and seven-speed range of ratios (the first six being relatively short while the top cog is dialed fairly tall for cruising efficiency). Although Porsche claims its shifts are 60 percent quicker than a fast-stirred manual, in a sense they take no time at all as the clutches' handoff is so refined there's no appreciable moment of zero torque. Slap it into Drive and its autonomous shifts are as fluid and logical as any slushbox automatic's.
While there is a toggleable shifter lever sprouting from the center console, it seems almost symbolic. Ninety-nine percent of the time, the steering wheel switches will be taking the gear-change orders, and Porsche's switchery consists of two small chunks of putty-shaped aluminum that slot through notches in the tops of the right and left spokes. Notably, each operates in exactly the same way. They're not "handed": Thumb-press either to upshift, trigger-pull either to downshift. The ergonomic logic here has its naysayers, but I rather like the left and right symmetry. No need to mentally track which spoke is which. Just find one and either push or pull the doohickey.
Compared with that life-or-death subject -- Should pulling a shift-paddle cause an upshift or a downshift? -- political and religious wrangles look like tea parties. Our editor-in-chief, for instance, is stone-certain Porsche's got it completely backwards: That's not how it's done in racing! Evidently, there's been some in-house angst at Porsche for the same reason, but the sentiment has been trumped by a reluctance to confuse current Tiptronic drivers. Untainted as I am with any racing habits, pulling back to downshift -- akin, in my mind, to tugging on a horse's reins to slow it -- makes perfect sense to me...er, what's that, Angus? Oh, right, it's backwards. Yes sir, definitely backwards.
But the 2009 Cayman is a whole lot more than a PDK story (it's a $3420 option, by the way). It's gotten a nice visual makeover, including bigger air openings to either side of the grille, turn signals integrated into the headlamp (for a 911-like two-tube look), daytime LED driving lights, and a massaged stern fitted with strings of LED taillights. Inside, is a revised multifunction touchscreen (called Porsche Communication Management) that greatly truncates the button count.
Most important though, both the Cayman and Cayman S's are powered by brand new sixes based on the architecture of the fresh 911 units. Among the pair's advances are lighter weight, greater stiffness (now with closed-deck blocks), a simplified timing chain, two-piece crankcases replacing the previous four-part ones (plus their separate bearing cases), twin-chamber stainless-steel exhausts, and oil pumps that dynamically match their engine's needs. The base Cayman's displacement is now 0.2 liter closer to Cayman S's, jumping to 2.9 liters with its output climbing to 265 horsepower (up 20 horses). The 3.4-liter's output swells to a hearty 320 horsepower from 295, largely on the basis of the introduction of direct injection. Notice that this engine's oomph is within a 5-horse Briggs & Stratton of the 2008 911's 3.6-liter's-and buttoned into a car that's roughly 100 pounds lighter. Calculation? Yes, it actually has a slightly superior power-to-weight ratio. Simultaneously, when equipped with PDKs, both Caymans' fuel consumption (and CO2 emissions) is markedly reduced compared with their Tiptronic predecessors, the base car improving by 11 percent, the S by 16. This is called having your cake and smushing it into your competition's face too.
Stopping the car are bigger, 911-size brakes (ceramics are available-at $8150) necessitating a half-inch widening of the standard wheels; together, they're suspended by recalibrated springs and shocks. Available in the back is a mechanical, limited-slip differential ($950), though lighter-effort steering is at the ready to help you stave-off any directional confusion that still manages to escape the diff.
Meanwhile, new software aids include brake-based hill-holding and launch control (we saw a two-way zip-to-60 average of 4.5 seconds without even trying -- way faster than the 4.9 seconds Porsche is officially stating). Porsche claims a 171-mph top speed.
On the damp roads we encountered along Spain's southern coast (no doubt, it was raining on the plains), the Cayman drove as if there were an asphalt-dryer inches ahead of it. This thing is simply exquisite -- a thoroughbred racehorse in metal, a partner in road-gobbling that borders on the magical, more a 320-horsepower driving glove than a car. Stare as hard as you like, you'll never find the grooves that just gotta be there in the road to make an automobile handle like this. The risk Porsche engineers have taken all along with the Cayman is that, sooner or later, they'd dial its performance up so high its natural advantage in mid-engine balance and trimmer-scale would finally propel it into outshining the iconic 911 Carrera. Personally, I think that moment has arrived. Lithe on the road, fluidly seductive in appearance, and positively alive in your hands: It's now, in my humble opinion, very simply the best sports car in the world.
[source:MotorTrend]
    
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