turn on the engine and listen. It throbs. It purrs. Less dominant than its larger
siblings, it is torquey just the same. It elicits a surge of raw, campy lust like
an undershirted Leonardo De Caprio or the forever haunting spirit of an inscrutable
James Dean. Does "Catch me if you Can" or "East of Eden" light
your fire? Does Nicole Richie's declared penchant for sweaty men pique an interest
in finding one of your own?
a backdrop for the mid-engine Boxster roadster -- the smallest of its U.S. breed
-- such scenarios only heighten the legendary pull of anything remotely Porsche
that has carved out nearly cult status among even the most sophisticated of its
in some unexpected little discrepancies ( a somewhat better-than-expected mileage
among them, thanks to high performance engine adjusters) and you have a vehicle
that surprises while commanding respect. A chrome dual "sports exhaust,"
centered for authoritative punch and rumbling sound, shows off either of the Boxster's
two hunky sixes, tuned "just right" so an errant ear, far off, has no
doubt a legend is approaching.
word Boxster, a mix mined from the horizontally-opposed "boxer" engine
and "roadster" names, trips a little less easily off the tongue. But
it doesn't hide the $42,600 2.7-liter's 225-horsepower or the 258-horsepower of
the 3.2-liter on the pricier, up-powered Boxster S (badged at $60,665). The Boxster
awaits a six-speed manual when it's time for an update, settling now for a smooth
five-speed. Tiptronic S auto (with semi-manual) lends a sporty touch.
fun and in-your-face are somewhat synonymous. They dare. They do, when other's
won't try, like the rearward wind screen to flaunt it with the heater going full
blast and the top down on a bone-chilling Northern day. Warm weather flaunts are
a given. (Ah, and with steamy, undershirted passenger in full show?)