The Porsche 356 was a two-seater based on the Volkswagen, code-named Type 356 after its design office number. The Type 356 cars that followed had a platform chassis like the Volkswagen, but retained the same basic mechanical lay-out and Kommenda's distinctive body. Why change the chassis so soon? That is a question that might be asked about the myriad changes to Porsches ever since. The reason is simple; Porsche people are perfectionists and, because the cars have always been produced in relatively small quantities, it has been easy to change things in detail. Wherever the technical wizards could see a way of improving a component they would, usually after testing it on a racing Porsche. The result has been a stream of fascinating, complex and confusing cars, each one almost invariably a little better than the one before. But as their logo remained unaltered, so did their basic lay-out for 27 years: with only a brief flirtation with open-wheeled racers, they have all been rear-engined, air-cooled, all independently sprung sports cars.
Only since 1975 have there been more conventional front-engined, water-cooled Porsches, and they are still true sporting cars. By 1951, high-performance versions of the 356 were racing at Le Mans as a result of a plea by the race's organizer, Charles Faroux, who had helped free the professor from prison. Ferdinand Porsche lived long enough to see his 356 coupes win their class in the French race and establish themselves as a great force in Continental rallying. He had a stroke in the autumn and died the following year, leaving his company in the hands of his son, Ferry, with the Piech family for support. Hardly anything changed at Porsches. Production was transferred to Zuffephausen, near Stuttgart, West Germany but the cars were the same, constantly developing versions of their creator's original work. By 1952, the Porsche company was deeply involved in racing as a way of promoting its cars and it was apparent that they needed a new engine for more power. The sports-racing and production cars were stilt very successful so they decided to concentrate on them. Ultra-lightweight Spyders made the European Mountain Championship their own, as befitted cars with an Austrian origin.
And for those reasons, Porsche's entry-level vehicle is more appealing than ever. The Macan's newfound balance starts with its ride/handling poise. On the tight, winding roads scattered across the Spanish island of Mallorca, the two German-spec Macans we tested - both Macan S models with the optional air suspension - switched between aggressive and relaxed with ease. Aside from the Macan simply being too large for the roads, it never put a foot wrong. The air-suspension controls body motions well, so that when you apply angle to the tight, direct steering, the Macan feels as poised and dynamic as anything this side of an Alfa Romeo Stelvio Quadrifoglio. But the Macan doesn't take a madman to drive daily. This is down to changes Porsche made to address criticism of the original Macan being too focused on performance. The steel suspension components are now aluminium, reducing unsprung weight by 1.5 kilograms. It sounds modest, but any reduction in unsprung weight is a good one. Along with revised suspension geometry and new shock absorber hydraulics, the new Macan鈥檚 suspension readily shrugs off potholes.
But even on smoother roads, it feels planted. When the Macan launches in the UK, it will be with either a turbocharged 2.0-litre four-cylinder or a turbocharged 3.0-litre V6. And while it's an auto journalist cliche, we liked the less powerful Macan a lot. It doesn't sound all that exciting - there's just 245 bhp and 273 pound-feet of torque. Opt for the Sport Chrono Package - pro tip: always spring for the Sport Chrono Package - and the 2.0-litre Macan takes 6.1 seconds to get to 60 miles per hour with a modest 142-mph top speed. That's identical to the current base model. But it's intensely likable. As my co-pilot during the drive so eloquently argued, the 3.0-litre Macan S is certainly more powerful, but the 2.0-litre feels like it's giving its all; like it's in its highest state of tune. The Macan S, meanwhile, always feels like it has more to give (which is probably true, considering the inevitable Macan GTS and Macan Turbo will likely use the S' new turbocharged 3.0-litre V6).
Low-end torque is impressive in the 2.0-litre, and the exhaust note is throaty for a base model. It's a fun engine to play with, to wind out, and to enjoy. There's a degree of turbo lag, despite the twin-scroll turbocharger and the hot-V configuration. That said, we experienced this in standing-start, wide-open-throttle situations - at speed, the turbo spools up more readily, giving the Macan S a more engaging character. The 3.0-litre is also the more ear-pleasing engine. Switch the active exhaust to the louder setting (and leave it there), and the result is rich, sonorous exhaust noise that's as smooth as whipped cream. The turbocharger's whistle dominates the intake noise, but it's easy to tune this out with the radio, in case you want a more au naturel voice. Like the base Macan, the S uses a seven-speed dual-clutch automatic. The computer does a fine job when left in automatic and Normal mode, but the transmission is at its best in Sport or Sport Plus and with a human working the perfectly sized, metal paddle shifters.
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