Bliss on four wheels

The Cayman has a snappy and aggressive character.

Porsche is very keen to tell you that though the Cayman S shares a platform with the Boxster, it's a different car.

It borrows from 911 as much as the Boxster. Its engine sits between the two. Power and torque are a step up, and so is the price - Boxster starts at $119,000, Cayman at $155,000, and the 911 Carrera sits a further $45,000 up the ladder.

But the talking heads who insist this car has its own identity can protest all they like. The only way to be sure is to get in and drive it. Having stepped from the Cayman less than half an hour before writing this, I can tell you: they're not kidding.

This isn't a tarted-up Boxster, it's a car with its own identity, its own very special talents and its own loin-melting soundtrack.

That soundtrack comes courtesy of a 3.4-litre engine (the Boxster S boasts 3.2 litres and the 911 Carrera 2, 3.6). At 217kW the Cayman offers more power than the Boxster, and at 340Nm more torque.

Even its 5.4-second 0-100 time neatly bridges Boxster and 911 territory.

The engine architecture itself is a mongrel hybrid of the two.

It's based on the Boxster unit but with 911 Carrera cylinder heads; the bore is Carrera's, the stroke from Boxster.

But mongrel vigour means the Cayman is no parts-bin special. It has a character as aggressive and snappy as its name suggests.

Plant boot and the engine's rising howl deepens with a rasping back note as you close on 6000rpm, and discover just how broad the sweet spot is.

It's more a streak of honey, for peak torques offer anywhere from 4400 to 6000rpm, just 250rpm below peak power.

And it's this broad spread of torque mated with beautifully matched gear ratios in the six-speed manual I sampled that lets you make the most of this car's sublime balance.

The Boxster is rightly famous for a nimble nature imparted by the engine's mid-rear position.

But however good a drop-top, you do make rigidity compromises.

Rolf Frech, director of complete vehicle development at Porsche head office, points out that a stiffer hard-top car offers more suspension and chassis-tuning possibilities, and Porsche has made the most of them.

Where even the supremely balanced Boxster eventually washes out front or rear, this car seems to further tighten its line, the tyres moaning as you skim the surface, gripping firmly as you swivel round corners at an ever-increasing rate.

Frech is no desk jockey, as my stint as a passenger reveals. He admits the soundtrack was deliberately tuned for this gut-singing wail but brushes off suggestions the bean-counters held him back.

He will admit that tweaking the interior was near the bottom of the priority list, but is happy with the chassis and powerplant work.

The Cayman makes no pretence of rear seats, but does boast 410 litres of luggage space front and rear, making it the first Porsche since Cayenne you can take to the golf course.

Porsche didn't need a salty Boxster or a diluted 911, it needed an entirely different car to fill the gap. Frech calls it a stairway to heaven.

"Every Porsche customer wants a 911 Turbo once in their life. Our task was to make a stairway that everyone could reach this vision."

If our drive in the Adelaide hills is anything to go by, this Cayman is more than just a step to Nirvana. It offers a little bit of driving heaven.