Phwoar! I’ve never had the need to say it before, but I certainly do now – I’m in love. I doubt that my mother would be too happy when she hears “he” only has two seats, a boot that can hardly be called that, and happily gulps litres of petrol while on the charge. But that’s her problem, isn’t it.
Initially, I had been a bit sceptical about the Cayman’s purpose, simply expecting a Boxster with a decent hat. Sure, the Boxster’s okay, but the Cayman is so much more than that . . ..
If I had to use one word to describe the Porsche Cayman S, it would be “together”. Slip into leather bucket seats seemingly custom made for your dérriere, grip the leather-bound steering wheel that’s just wide enough, toggle the switches that fall to hand so easily and realise everything fits like a glove.
And it’s composed, too. Barrel it into a corner on the loud side of the red line, and the Cayman S never puts a tyre wrong. Point it, and watch it go. It has an unflappable nature so calming, you could just as easily be taking your Gran on a run to the shops in her Honda Ballade dating back to the last century while discussing the finer points of planting your poinsettias in a shady patch.
Of course, the 3,4-litre flat six powerplant used to hustle this baby along quickly snaps you back to reality. But though it has a vital role in this symphony, it remains as dignified as ever. The exhaust note resonates as the Cayman is propelled forward with only a throaty gasp indicating steps up – and down – the six-speed manual ‘box. Sadly, the chance of having an over-developed left calf and quadricep is slim… Changes are as light as a feather with this short-shift transmission. This, in turn, leaves you to concentrate on more important things, like willing the cars chugging up the road ahead to miraculously disappear in a cloud of smoke!