2009 Porsche Cayenne GTS: More sport than utility

405 hp SUV cuts minutes off journey

Apr 19, 2009

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Special to the Star

StE-Saveur, Que.–Pressing through the rain on Highway 401, heading toward Quebec, the prospects for skiing didn't look too good.

The hour it had taken to load the Cayenne with ski stuff seemed wasted. It wasn't easy: The ski pass-through for the back seat, which is a no-cost option for the vehicle that lets long skis and poles poke through the rear seat, was not fitted to this tester; the skis ended up balanced above the boots and the rest of the luggage, and were held in place with bungee cords across the top of the rear seat. At least they helped to separate the two boys in the back and stop them from punching each other too hard.

Four sets of skis and poles, four pairs of boots, winter clothing and enough other stuff for a weekend away at a chalet, not to mention basic groceries and a case of beer – the Cayenne was stuffed so full that nothing could be seen out the back window. Aren't SUVs supposed to be spacious?

At least most everything was contained in the very back, so that there was still room for us to stretch out on the Cayenne's leather. If we actually owned this GTS, we'd probably invest in a roof rack and hard plastic ski case, so that the paraphernalia of such vacations could be properly contained.

But headed up the 401 into the rain, it all seemed pointless. There was little to do but watch the wipers swish back and forth as the dreary scenery passed by.

The boys were content in the back seat. Another option missing on this tester was the in-car video screen for watching movies on long drives, which would cost an extra $4,130. Fortunately, I'd packed the portable DVD player that we bought five years ago for $150 at Wal-Mart, with its two screens that strap to the front seat headrests. The boys watched a movie and were barely aware it was even raining outside.

Up front, with some privacy provided by the boys wearing headphones, my wife and I passed the time by chatting about the Porsche.

"It's very comfortable, but I don't see what's so special about it," said my wife.

"But it's a Porsche!" I said, careful to pronounce the name correctly with two syllables so that it sounds like Portia, the beautiful and intelligent heroine of Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice, not one syllable, so that it sounds like the place where I keep my wet boots.

"So what?" she replied, pointing out, "we're going no quicker than any of these other cars."

"But we could. This GTS has 405 horsepower and a Tiptronic transmission. All I have to do is snick it down a couple of gears like this," and I pushed the little button on the steering wheel a couple of times, "and dab the gas like this," and I pressed harder on the throttle pedal, "and everyone knows who's the boss!"

The big SUV surged forward until I backed off, back down to the speed limit with the other traffic.

"No they don't," she said. "They just know you're a dork."

She may have had a point. The previous day, her mother had taken a ride in the Cayenne and had wanted to hide her face from others for fear of being recognized as an ostentatious, selfish gas-guzzler in this new age of moderation. The GTS was sucking back 14.5 litres of premium gas every 100 km, after all. It's a good thing we weren't in the Turbo or Turbo S versions, with 500 hp and 550 hp respectively and their even thirstier engines.

It's also a good thing that we weren't in the cheaper, less-powerful Cayenne and Cayenne S versions. Sure, you can get into a very base Cayenne for $56,100, which is just one-third the price of the Turbo S, but all that really does is tell people you can't afford the bigger models.

No, the GTS is right in the middle, at $91,000 with its 21-inch wheels and six-speed transmission. This tester, with its navigation, Bose surround sound, full leather interior and more, came in at almost $110,000, which was more than enough to make my mother-in-law hide her face in shame.

Not me, though. The heated seats were as comfortable as any I've experienced, hugging just the right places, and I was happy to stretch out on the boring drive east.

The truck was not without its faults, though, and when it costs six figures and it's not perfect, those niggly faults accumulate weight very quickly.

Those Tiptronic buttons, for example. They're awful. They're in the wrong place on the steering wheel for easy thumb control while driving, and they're fiddly to use. They're not push-pull like most paddles but push the top for changing up, and the bottom for changing down. Forget it!

The iPod controls, activated once you plug your iPod in, can be scrolled through on the large centre screen of the dash. But the screen's just flat, with no feedback like the tactile screen of a BlackBerry Storm, for example, or even the iPod itself, so it's difficult to use while driving. I plugged my unit in through the auxiliary jack instead, to not bypass the iPod's quick and easy scroll wheel.

And while I'm at it, the Cayenne's the only vehicle I can recall driving in which the passengers can bypass the driver when operating the power windows. The Lock switch stops everything, but on Unlock, the passengers rule. Good for adults in the back, very bad for fighting kids in car washes. Don't ask.

All of this food for thought helped pass the time as the day grew dark and the highway droned on. But somewhere near Montreal, the rain turned to snow and the road began to grow slippery. Heading north to higher ground and the foothills of the Laurentians, the sides of the road became snowbanks. By the time we reached Ste-Saveur, the snow was everywhere and the plow cuts were deep swathes beside the road. We found the chalet, deep in the woods, and unloaded for the night.

It was the next morning that the Cayenne finally came into its own. The ski hill was 20 minutes away along a winding road that cut through the snow like a threading stitch. A badly threading stitch, with potholes and rocks scattered liberally along the route.

I changed the suspension from the highway's "Comfort" setting to "Sport," which stiffens everything and allows a more aggressive tack. After five minutes, the family complaints about the jarring ride made me turn the setting down to "Normal," which found middle ground.

On the few straightaways, I snicked the gear lever over into manual and jogged it back and forth to change gears, bypassing the silly steering wheel buttons, and showed those Quebec slowpokes who was the boss.

The Pirelli Scorpion winter tires – about the only tires available in the needed 295/35 size, which sell for more than $1,300 (U.S.) a set on Tirerack.com – stuck to the road with a confidence that shaved five minutes off the drive.

All of which meant that I arrived at the hill feeling smug, my wife and kids arrived feeling a little ticked at me, and I got to drop them off early before spending 20 minutes looking for a place to park.

There was a space far from the entrance, and I nudged the Cayenne in next to a Ford Flex. Its driver was pulling some skis from the back. I didn't notice if it had a seat pull-through. He nodded at me in greeting and I nodded back.

"That's a lovely car," he said. "I have a Boxster at home, but I won't bring it out for another month or so. Can't wait."

Which is the beauty of the Cayenne. You don't have to wait out winter if you want the Porsche's sure-footed driving experience. And who doesn't? After all, for just double the price of his loaded Flex, I'd got the family here five minutes sooner. Isn't that what it's all about?

Toronto Star