I'll admit that I was a tad disappointed that my first experience with the Taycan would be in the 4S, rather than the reality-distorting Turbo S. But it didn't take long behind the wheel to realize just how foolish a thought that was. It'd be like being disappointed you're driving a 911 Carrera 4S instead of a Turbo; sure, maybe it's not the ultimate, but it's hardly grounds for complaint.
Then I started driving. After a few minutes, it seemed insane that there are not one but two Taycans quicker and more powerful than the 4S.
Fire up the launch control and it feels quick, but not obscenely so; it feels more or less in line with the likes of an Audi RS 6 Avant. (That said, one unexpected launch start did give my girlfriend a bout of motion sickness the likes of which she’s never felt in any of the cars she’s ridden in.)
But no super-sedan, no sports car, feels quite as quick as the Taycan in the real world. It’s a matter of the powerband: the Porsche’s electric motors are always primed to give their all the instant you ask for it, no matter how fast they’re turning. To accomplish something similar in an internal combustion car, you’d have to drive around with the engine close to the power peak at all times — and given gasoline engines make max power high in the rev range, that means you’d be constantly driving around at high rpm, a noisy and inefficient proposition.
Accelerate from a roll — be it at 5 mph or 50 — and the Taycan seems to go to warp speed, rocketing forward with far more thrust (and far less noise) than conventional wisdom learned over years of driving would have you believe possible. It’s addictive fun, sure, but also handy; you need never worry about merging onto a busy highway, or getting out of the way of a looming semi, or ducking into the opposite travel lane to pass cars on a two-lane road.
The two-speed gearbox on the rear axle adds a little bit of drama to hard acceleration, as well. Floor the gas accelerator when going slow, and it kicks down with a distinct punch, as though the afterburners have been lit; accelerate long enough to get back to top gear, and it thumps again, like Chuck Yeager's X-1 passing through the sound barrier.
The steering may not have the feedback of those 911s of yore, but then again, no modern Porsche (or any modern car) does. It’s not quite as lively as a new 911 or Ferrari, either, but by the standards of pretty much every other modern-day car, it’s excellent. Direct, responsive, and communicative enough to please all but the snobbiest of steering connoisseurs.
More importantly, the Taycan turns like a good Porsche should. It’s drastically, delightfully flat through the turns — courtesy in part of all that battery mass mounted ever-so-low. The limits are sports-car high, even with the performance winter tires mounted to my tester. Don’t be afraid to toss it around; it is, very much, a Porsche first and an electric car second. Or rather, proof that the two can very happily coexist in one car.