That’s a tough choice, selecting between two iconic sports cars even if they’re separated by nearly half a century of automotive development.
On the one hand we have the E-Type celebrating its 50th birthday this year. I haven’t driven one for a good many years so thought it an opportunity to reacquaint myself with the car and rediscover what all the fuss is about.
My first challenge was getting in: at 6ft 2ins I am hardly triple X sized and I don’t wear shoes the size of small kayaks, but I found getting my legs and feet down the tunnel and round the steering wheel about as easy as threading a worm back down its hole. Furthermore once in place the massive steering wheel cut across my thighs to such a degree that I think I’ve invented a new Yoga position. And as for the pedals I felt as if I could operate all three simultaneously with either just my left or right Timberland. Oh yes, and I wish I’d opted for the convertible, at least with its hood down I’d have had enough headroom unlike the Hunchback of Notre Dame stance I was forced to assume.
Aside from that it was fine, the engine took on that strong straight six beat with a back rhythm of warbling carbs slurping in fuel and air. The gearbox was a bit iffy not aided by the long throw clutch.
But it was the cramped cabin and ergonomics – what ergonomics? – that left a not entirely good impression on me especially after I tried to extricate myself with all the grace and dexterity of a lobster trying to escape its pot.
Over to the Cayman R and it fits like a glove, a compact steering wheel, pedals ideally placed for heel ‘n toeing – if you want to show off that is, with modern synchros that’s not needed these days – a short, crisp gearbox throw and a rasping exhaust timbre just to the aft.
The ergonomics are ideal and its steering is arguably the best you can get in a performance car in this price bracket.
Fast forward 50 years and I wonder if the Cayman will feel just as arthritic as that E-Type did?
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