Porsche 911 GTS Road Test: Driving in Munich sounds fun. It's horrible.

MUNICH — Spending a week with a 2023 Porsche 911 Carrera 4 GTS in Munich turned out to be 473 horsepower of the expected yin and a steaming pile of yang. The yang had nothing to do with the Porsche.

But let's start with the sweetness embodied in this Ice Grey Metallic coupe. By now, we all know enthusiast scribes get the zoomies worse than a husky in winter's first snow over four things: lightness, manual transmissions, brown wagons, and Porsche 911s. I got two of them in this car.

The thing about the 911 is that almost everything said about it is true — at least, true enough to be a useful generalization. Sarcasm over the Darwinian pace of mutations? The cynic's take on sticker packages and relentless special editions? Invective about the owners? Horror at the fantastically atomized and traumatically expensive options menu? All true enough.

Because the 911 embodies its own yin and yang, the other side deserves an audience; there are dynamic sacraments absolving supposed sins. Preternatural steering sharp enough to convey the water content in the asphalt? Acceleration that prioritizes usable handling and grip over spreadsheet stats? A high-rev exhaust squall so addictive Big Pharma would pay doctors to prescribe high dosages if such were possible? All of these are also true enough. The balance has changed since the analog days — better handling, worse exhaust note, for instance — but the 911 has always been about the comprehensive grade, and today, as back then, Stuttgart engineers mingle at the head of the class.

Some demerits I could charge against the GTS could just as easily be taken as a compliments. Specifically, around town, it's all relaxation and composure with zero sense of occasion. The easiest way to remember you're in a 911 is to look at the people outside looking at your 911.

On the smooth, snaking roads between German towns, the GTS maintains the same demeanor – it's just quicker and louder about it. Staggered 20- and 21-inch “Turbo S” wheels clinging to staggered, sticky rubber weren't going to come undone short of velocities that would have had speed cameras flashing like paparazzi at the Berlin Film Festival.

The only genuine dent in the armor was the exhaust note, done additional disservice by Europe's mandated gas particulate filter. Over a surprising range of steady-state speeds, it was endlessly monotonous.

And Porsche should sell each 911 with a flask, because the only driver-accessible cupholder holds more disdain than liquid.

Enough of that. This thing is grand. When colleague Byron Hurd reviewed the 2022 GTS, he called it "Just shy of perfect," his archetype of perfection being a GT3. I call that an honest and reasonable assessment, and I agree with it. If you want the ultimate modern and subtle 911 daily without the playboy flamboyance of the Turbo or the arrogant flamboyance of the GT cars, the GTS marks the X that marks the spot. Especially if you live somewhere you can regularly run 160 mph on a four-hour road trip.

In keeping with Mr. Hurd's financial wariness about the cost of perfection, I nominate a different paragon of the ideal, though: A previous-generation 911 that's lighter, rawer, more alive. I admit to this being a fallacious and unreasonable assessment. Life, like a 911, isn't meant to be enjoyed in reverse, so my thousand-yard-stare into the rearview mirror is a waste of time. Instead, I would likely be better served looking to the left, at the lighter, rawer, and admittedly less powerful 911 Carrera T.

Sad thing is, I wouldn't look at either car if I had to have them in Munich again, which brings me to the hot, heavy paper bag full of yin I experienced over those seven days. The worst part of having a GTS for a week in Munich was not wanting to drive the GTS in Munich.

I've been writing for years about how European cities have taken up battle against climate change, with weapons including stringent emissions legislation, exclusive emissions zones, congestion charges, diesel bans, and the impending ostracism of the internal combustion engine. I think this Munich trip was my first intense experience of it, and it wasn't fun. Until I was headed out of Munich, the car spent most of its time here: