Theon Design 4.0 Coupe review: another 911 restomod, but a good ‘un

Not another one?!

Yep, it’s another company taking 964-generation Porsche 911s and giving them an expensive, restorative makeover. We’ll allow you an ounce of apathy towards such things, given the queue of competitors at its door, but the work of Oxfordshire firm Theon Design does genuinely stand out amidst its curiously crowded market.

We’ve sampled Theon’s wares before, but this latest Coupe is a right-hand drive example and its seventh UK commission. Overall production has surpassed 20 cars, there’s around half that again in build, with each one taking 18 months to complete.

Woah, long time…

“The fun is in the journey, because customers are very involved in the build,” co-founder Adam Hawley tells me. “I mean, they don't have to be, but they generally want to be. We're not a one-stop shop where you tick some boxes and get a car two years later. It's very much a collaboration. You work really, really closely with us. It sounds a bit corny, but customers do end up as friends. It's a little bit sad when their car is ready and they go…”

Plenty come back for servicing and upgrades, however, the former especially prudent given Theon buyers put proper miles on their cars, using them for adventures and road trips to warrant the meticulous engineering put into them. The reasonably young workforce inside the Theon barn is catalysed by its position amid Britain’s motorsport valley, ensuring plenty of cutting-edge knowhow makes its way into these otherwise retro-looking devices.

I bet I pay for the privilege, though…

Prices start at £420,000 plus taxes and a donor Porsche 964; Theon insists it’s not plundering good ones, rather rotting examples or undesirable Tiptronics. “I wouldn't take an RS and I would only take a Turbo if it was really tired,” affirms Hawley. “They're special models for a reason and you shouldn't be destroying one unless it's completely tired and there isn't any value in bringing it back.”

Costs can quickly soar, of course. You’ve a choice of 3.6-, 3.8- and 4.0-litre engines, natural aspiration, supercharging or turbocharging, a five- or six-speed manual gearbox and a steel or carbon body. That’s the core sorted. Then it’s time to spend hours poring over colour or trim, whether you want KW coilovers or TracTive semi-active suspension, and the brakes from a gnarly old 911 RS or carbon ceramics.

But there’s possibility beyond even Theon’s own spec sheet. Come in with a fresh, bespoke request – one customer craved a retractable reversing camera screen, for instance – and Hawley will deploy his effervescent team to explore what’s possible.

“If there's a challenge, we normally do it together because if it’s just engineered, it’s not going to look right and if it's just designed, it's not going to work very well. It needs to amalgamate both skillsets and the team know a lot better than I do about how things go together.” Dig into the detail and you sense every Theon is its own concept car.

Yikes.

Whichever path you tread, here’s a reasonable degree of re-engineering beneath the skin – Theon moves ancillaries like the power steering and air con to the front of the car, to even out the weight distribution and smooth the edges of its ‘classic 911’ handling, though it does everything with the aim that a Porsche dealer or specialist can still work on the car. Handy for owners in Chile who can’t swing by Banbury each year for their service.

While all of this may sound nerdy, it’s all surfaced with such splendour – just check out how clean, tidy and artful the engine bay looks – that you don’t need a degree in engineering to appreciate what happens here. The company’s called Theon Design, after all.

So what do we have here?

There’s a carbon body, a 4.0-litre nat-asp flat-six with 420bhp and 324lb ft (and seventies-style trumpets), the brakes of a 993-gen RS, a six-speed manual, five-way TracTive adaptive damping with softer, ‘touring’ springs and a set of modest 17in Fuchs-style wheels.

Ivory paint sits atop Tobacco leather and the whole thing weighs around 1,150 kilos. About the same as a basic petrol Corsa while over 250kg skinnier than the latest, greatest 911 GT3 with the optional Weissach lightweighting.

Does it drive like a classic?

“People want the seventies feel, but they don't want the seventies issues,” says Hawley. So there’s a surface-level sensation of piloting a classic car but with a modern depth of engineering beneath. First impressions, even without extending its engine, are that it’s rapid. More power than a base 992 in something so much lighter will do that. But it’s easy to hang onto and – crucially – polite in its manners during the myriad of moments you don’t have the room to fully open it up.

The TracTive suspension helps, not least because you get to click through its five levels with a satisfying dial rather than an emotionless touchscreen prod. I can imagine leaving it broadly in its softest setting, or one up from it; the car hardly rolls or wallows and still feels rather committed. And you can ramp things up quickly and easily when the opportunity materialises before you.

True to 911 form, its steering is a particular highlight. You would swear it was unassisted if you weren’t told, only the knowledge of the wide tyres you're shuffling around and the absence of prolonged arm-twirling at parking speeds truly giving the game away. It still requires muscle, as does the gearbox, which is endlessly precise but needs a deliberate effort that you’ll take great joy in providing. There’s all the interactivity of a classic, just with less of the edge. On a warm, summer’s day, you might miss that. On the torridly wet day I drove this Ivory Coupe, I breathed a sigh of relief for its more welcoming vibe.

It can’t feel like a new 911 to sit in, though…

In terms of material quality and ambience, it’s better than, as the price surely dictates. But its driving position remains offset in right-hand-drive form (despite Theon’s remade pedal box) proving its folks can engineer out plenty of issues, but they're never going to lose the core character of a vintage 911.

The modern Recaros rock but still perch you close to the glass, with a big enveloping screen wrapped around you like a visor – one that offers a prime view down the curvature of its front wings. Which makes it a simpler thing to place down narrow lanes than the current, 992-gen 911. Modern Porsches still move nicely down a rural British road, they just occupy a larger footprint doing so.

What about handling?

Knowing this is someone else’s utterly unique, frighteningly valuable possession does bring a veil of caution to how I drive it, yet there’s an underlying composure to its setup that ensures my pace – and its glorious revs – soar quicker than I’d dared imagine. As its power swells, the timbre of the engine hardens, with a frenzied energy as you pass 4,500rpm. There’s not much outside the hypercar realm to match it.

It becomes more convincing with increased pace and gumption. You can mooch around in it way easier than you could a true classic – no faltering battery or lumpy, suffocated idling in traffic – but it’s at its best with energy coursing through its powertrain and damping. Feel and fidelity throughout each of its control weights spurs you on.

I assume Theon will tune it how I like…

Absolutely. Like any restomod, this one is close to a blank canvas beyond its unmistakable silhouette. You can have short gearing, a skinny flywheel and resolute damping for a true driving machine. Or you can slacken everything off for a comfy cruiser. Most will fall somewhere between the two, as this car has. But while all Theons are manual and rear-drive at this exact moment, the engineers’ minds remain open to automatics or four-wheel drive if that’s what you need (or desire).

To call Theon Design a Singer rival is almost reductive, because it ignores that this small British setup is treading its own, somewhat conceptual path. The car may look like yes, another 911 restomod, but the end product has a delicious character all of its own.

Photography: Alex Penfold