Porsche Boxster S on the Mumbai-Pune Expressway
There are cars that have nearly perfect 50:50 weight distribution. The Boxster simply doesn't seem to have any weight to distribute. It's all locked up in one tiny part at the centre of the car. And when you fling it hard around the corner, you don't feel any weight… erm… distributing anywhere. The car just does away with a bend with the nonchalance that Robert Vadra reserves for mango people in banana republics.
So while the engine is so inconspicuous that it's barely visible, it does make itself felt when you floor the throttle. There's this angry, rorty shriek from the back of your ear whenever you bother the accelerator a bit more than usual. It's like the voice of a pointy-tailed devil sitting on your shoulders. It won't shake the world. But it's enough to put some mean thoughts in your head about putting the world in danger. But the Boxster doesn't contain any devils. It's a very friendly, hospitable kind of car even when you're wringing the neck out of it.