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We (meaning I) have been awfully tough on Porsche’s Panamera this week, what with the Frank Greve article on corruption in the autojourno game and my own confessional regarding my Panamera experience.
To balance out the karma of the Porsche universe, I’ve found an article, published today, where the auto review for Canada’s
What happened, it was found out later, was that the right turbocharger (the Panamera has two) let go, pouring oil into the exhaust system. Unfortunately, the exhaust side of a turbocharger routinely reaches temperatures of 900C. Since oil burns at 500C, we had our impromptu car-b-cue. Covered in a fine patina of bromine (the fire retardant in portable extinguishers), clad in scorched bumper and dripping hot oil out its tailpipes, the Turbo S was a sorry sight and had to be medivac’d back to Toronto.
What the shill toady unbelievably corrupt pawn of people who consider him to be basically a robot who can be programmed to spew crap for a lower-middle-class wage journalist, David Booth, writes next may shock you, but it will almost certainly make you laugh.
The full review can be found here. Check it out if you like, but we will cover the relevant bits in the close reading which follows.
The article begins
the quad pipes belched a six-foot plume of flame as if the Panamera were trying to storm the Imperial Army on Iwo Jima. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t in the brochure.
What, you mean the part where the Germans helped take Iwo Jima? No, David, that part wasn’t in the brochure. David then goes on to discuss the likely cause of the fire, as detailed above: turbocharger blows up, oil goes into exhaust, massively hyperbolic, death-defying description of minor engine-area fire. Well, since this piece of shit $190,000 sports-car-cum-sedan blew up on a relatively tame track (Shannonville, while nice, is more of a large parking-lot autocross than, say, an inch-perfect recreation of Spa-Francorchamps), Booth then goes on to utterly eviscerate Porsche for building cars that can’t handle simple track work.
Right?
That’s what he does, right?
“So what’s the lesson in this, Dave?” you’re asking. “Don’t buy a Porsche Panamera Turbo S, right?’
Well, not quite. In fact, quite possibly the opposite. You see, though it was the wonky bearing that caused the turbocharger to go kaput (a German technical term related to rapid dispersion of lubricant), I may have contributed at least a little to its demise as my enthusiastic flailing along Shannonville’s long straight was not exactly the ideal way to break in a virtually brand new engine.
No, dumbass. Turbochargers don’t need to break in.
More tellingly, the Panamera’s big 4.8-litre V8 was completely unharmed by the conflagration, despite losing oil for more than half of Shannonville’s 4.03 kilometres with Yours Truly’s foot planted firmly to the metal. (Remember the dullard assertion – I had failed to notice those great plumes of smoke wafting behind me for almost an entire lap.)
That admission, right there, should make sure Mr. Booth never sets foot on a track again in his life. He wasn’t just being a “dullard” — he was
Okay, enough sanctimony, back to the unintentional humor.
The reason was simple. Porsche designs all its engines for the worst-case scenarios of racing.
One more time:
The reason was simple. Porsche designs all its engines for the worst-case scenarios of racing.
I’m sorry. Once more.
I’m reminded of Harrison Ford’s famous comment to George Lucas while filming
One of the by-products is that the Panamera’s engine carries a whopping nine litres of oil in its semi-wet-sump oil pan rather than the more common four or five.
Again with the “Semi Wet Sump” crap that Porsche has been pushing since the M96. It’s a “Semi Wet Sump” like Charles Manson is a “Semi Murderer”. My 993 has
Pretty much any other turbocharged motor would have lunched its components under the same circumstances… (In fact, I am going to drive it post-impeller surgery just to see if the doctors have made it as good as new.)
The first part is a lie, the second part — reminding Fong et al that you expect to drive the car again in exchange for fellating its dirty exhaust pipe in public — is probably a good idea. Speaking of, time for the money shot.
So, the lesson is this: Pray you never blow a turbocharger. But, if you do – and turbocharger failure isn’t as uncommon as might be thought – hope that you’re in a Porsche. Or a car that is equally over-engineered.
Actually, David, turbocharger failure in brand new cars
One last thing. What would have happened if Booth — hold on, I have some more laughing to do. What would have happened if Booth — cough — chuckle —
- Abuse, accident, acts of God, competition, racing, track use, or other events
A further clarification below:
Note 1:Components and/or parts that fail during racing or driving events (including Porsche sponsored events) may not be covered by the new car Limited Warranty.
Let’s amend Booth’s craven PR ad copy to something that’s a little more real:
So, the lesson is this: Pray you never blow a turbocharger. But, if you do – and you’re in a Porsche – better hope nobody at the track saw it happen.
