A classic Cape weekend

Now this is my idea of living. On Thursday, I fly down from The Big Smoke to drive Porsche's Panamera, overnight at CAR Editor Bentley's spot, take in an old journo pal's 55th birthday bash at Royal Cape Yacht Club on Friday night, go to the Golden Age Legends at Killarney on Saturday, meet an old girlfriend from 15 years ago in Tokai on Saturday night, and do the pavement café thing on Camps Bay beach on Sunday, just to kill time before flying back to the 'Burg.

My invite was part of the local media launch of the new Porsche. Yes, I know CAR has already run a road test, but this was MY chance to get to grips with what is arguably the most controversial four-wheeler launched in the last decade.

Just as film or pixels can't always do justice to an enticing girl, the Panamera doesn't photograph well, because it needs to be appreciated in context. In fact, the car is all about context. It's the first real four-door, four-seater sports car that Porsche has produced, even though the men from Stuttgart had the idea with the original 911 back in the late 1960s and even built a prototype of a stretched "S". But now, over four decades later, you can truly do 911 deeds with the family along for the ride.

The car is not even 5 metres in length, but it has a super-long wheelbase and short overhangs, which liberates an amazing amount of space in the back. I'm still not convinced by the looks, even though they make more sense now that I have seen the Panamera in the metal. I wasn't that impressed with the ride quality when seated at the back, it's definitely not as good as that of the S-Class, but, hey, compared with being crammed in the rear of a 911, the Panamera's aft passengers may be forgiven for imagining they were convalescing on a cruise ship.

There's over 400 dm3 of luggage space too, and that's before the rear seats are folded flat.

For me the best part is the incredible sense of high-speed stability, thanks to that stretched wheelbase.

Here is the most confidence-inspiring Porsche yet, and irrespective of whether you choose an S, a 4S or a Turbo, you will be happy. The customers, and there are already close to 10 000 of them either enjoying the car or hyping with their names on the waiting list, seem to be going for the 4S big time. Four-wheel-drive gives added high-speed-stability, especially when you lift off the throttle from post 270 km/h speeds. Believe me, that's a reality. And in Germany, Panamera drivers do that sort of thing every day!

The steering is marvellous, I don't think anyone does a better steering system than Porsche, the secret being the progressive loading of the wheel as you turn in, giving you an emphatic sense of what those front tyres are doing in relation to the road surface.

I don't like the button gearshift on the wheel particularly, but they are an improvement over the previous 911 system, on which your thumbs had their dexterity reduced to the level of your big toes. As for the price, starting at just over R1-million, Maserati, Aston Martin, even the likes of Lamborghini and Audi (the R8) need to be afraid. Very afraid.

So, that was Thursday. Overnighting at Bentley's Hout Bay spot meant lots of Gallic influence. The man is essentially French, if his record and DVD collection is anything to go by, not to mention the fact he has his DStv decoder tuned to the French channel permanently.

His garage has a distinct French flavour too, with possibly the most pristine Citroën 2CV in the country sharing space with his long-term Prius. Soon the long-termer will be evicted when Bentley's Porsche 356A joins "The Dersh" as 2CVs are known, due to the French pronunciation of Deux Cheveaux.

Friday I burned myself to lobster red on Camps Bay Beach, in preparation for my buddy Rob Taylor's 55th. Well I didn't plan to look like a strandloper, it just worked out that way. Rob is a sometime motoring hack, but mostly a sports expert and is currently on Business Day's books as a sports specialist. Nice solid rock music wafting out the open doors of the pub of The Royal Cape Yacht Club kept me happy every time I stepped outside for a ciggy, played by a funky Chrissie Hynde-looking chick with a mean voice and a good riff or two on the old Gibson.

Saturday was Classic Day for this classic weekend. We stealthed over to Killarney in the Prius, watched some races, but mainly drooled around the pit complexes at creations like Irvine Laidlaw's Ferrari 312P and Aston Martin DBR2, reportedly worth about R70-million (and that's JUST for the Aston!).

Irvine doesn't stress, he's apparently worth five times more than Mr and Mrs Beckham, and that's according to The Times.

Irvine drove at Killarney like there was no tomorrow. It was wonderful to see him taking the 312P to the very limit of kerbing on the exit of Malmesbury, the fastest corner of the track, watching his exposed arms sawing at the wheel, and neck-hairing that howl of the flat-12 Ferrari motor, the only engine noise to be heard all the way around the track. The V8s, the screaming fours, they were just background fill.

In the Aston Laidlaw was equally impressive, hurtling the old car around in a manner that caused the DBR2's suspension geometry to adopt some very un-Aston-like angles, kind of like Princess Margaret showing some suspender belt on Harrods' escalator.

Saturday night I saw my old girlfriend of 15 years prior and it was great. She played me some Bob Dylan and Van Morrison duos she'd recorded, Crazy Love, being the most poignant collaboration between these two grizzled iconclasts.

It made a nice counterpoint to the French iconoclast, Serge Gainsboourg, whose oeuvre had imbibed to a great degree at Monsieur Bentley's establishment over the previous two days.

Aah, Sunday. To the beach or to the track?

I ended up sitting at a pavement café in Camps Bay watching the parade of pontificating poodles, perfect bosoms, Piaggios, Harleys, and the odd ratty Chev de Ville that make this venue the ideal spot for a bloke on his own to kill time and feel uninvolved.

There's a buzz there that is distinct, none of the typical Cape Town olde worlde charm, mind you, but a sense of optimism that is addictive.

Over the Nek then, to upper Gardens, taking in the hippies who have never really left since the '60s, they just seem to have stayed the same age. Classic Porsche 911s, Merc 280SLs, an old Volvo 164 in perfect nick... Spotting those automotive landmarks punctuated my slow withdrawal out to the airport and ultimately the land of 24/7 traffic jams and insane road conduct.

It was great...