Reinterpreting the original 911 Turbo was, perhaps, an obvious step for Singer Vehicle Design. Founder Rob Dickinson says that the company's clients have been asking for a turbocharged car for quite some time. Putting the Singer spin on what is, for many, the defining Porsche 911 is no small task. But Dickinson and his team spent 18 months doing it—far longer dreaming about it—and the result is a thoroughly modernized car that’s immediately recognizable as a 930, despite sharing no body panels with the original.
"It's as muscular as we dared make it," Dickinson tells Road & Track. "We spent a lot of time considering how muscular it could be while still capturing the essence of the original and hopefully not going too far. The fact that you're not sure whether it's the same, I think, is success for me because it's massively different. If you sat this next to a real car it would be quite obvious."
Singer's reinterpretation of the 930 takes elements from throughout the original's 15-year production run. The rear spoiler is a tribute to the original "whale tail" on early 3.0-liter 930s, more sculpted than the later "tea tray" that held the intercooler added in 1978. "Subsequent [spoilers] that came along got bigger and arguably more impressive, but never as beautiful," Dickinson says. The Singer engine's twin water-to-air intercoolers are embedded in the intake manifold, while additional cooling air is fed to the engine bay through intakes that mimic the shape of the shark fin stone guard. "To have it actually doing something real and tangible is kind of a win-win," he says. "I mean, who would've thought a piece of vinyl about a foot and a half long could become iconic? But sure enough, it has, and sure enough, it offers folks like us an opportunity."
Like every Singer restomod, this Turbo tribute starts with a non-turbo 964. All the bodywork is replaced with custom-formed carbon fiber. The Singer is much wider than any stock 930 (and thus, massively wider than a non-turbo 911). To wit: Singer's bespoke Fuchs-style 18-inch wheels measure 9 inches wide in front, and nearly 12 inches wide in the rear; the largest fitted to a 930 from the factory were 16 by 8 up front and an inch wider in back. Those modern wheels are fitted with grippy Michelin Pilot Sport 4S tires, and give enough room for optional carbon-ceramic brakes—good things to have in this 450-hp, 2800-pound package.
"As with all our work, it needs to feel authentic and sincere to the original," Dickinson says. "It needs to feel like a Porsche, because it's a Porsche, it's not a Singer. People walk past this car and go, 'Jesus, that's the nicest looking 930 Turbo I've ever seen.' That's job done for us."
Singer even designed new impact bumpers that both comply with the original regulation—deflecting roughly 1.5 inches in a 5-mph impact—and modernize a signature visual feature of Seventies and Eighties 911s. Triple vent slits at the bumper’s trailing edge call to mind the accordion rubber of those bumpers. "We've managed to incorporate the original design intent with another one as well, so we're quite proud of that element," Dickinson says.
Inside, there's yet more embrace of the Seventies, with Singer's own reworkings of Porsche’s three-spoke steering wheel and optional "sport" seats—now heated and fully power adjustable. The first Singer-modified 930 is opulently appointed, with light beige leather and "Black Forest" wood trim. Singer will build you a more restrained interior if you want, but Dickinson wanted to play up the car's luxury potential for its debut, "Presenting the car in the way that Porsche did in 1975—as an intercontinental, grand touring, highly refined luxury proposition," Dickinson says.
That's something often misunderstood about the 930. The first turbocharged 911 became a legend for its huge power and performance—especially in an era when performance cars were hampered by haphazard emissions equipment—and its tricky limit handling. But Porsche designed the Turbo as a grand tourer, not a raw performance car.
"That sense of refinement while going fast is quite an odd juxtaposition, isn't it?" Dickinson says. "Usually fast means more noise, more drama. Turbocharging, obviously, naturally quiets an engine anyway. And if on top of that you've got plushness everywhere in your driving environment, it's a very, very different sensation of speed, isn't it?"
Consequently, Singer’s first turbocharged restomod is very different from the shop’s past offerings. "It's a fascinatingly different way of consuming the car and enjoying the car than something like the DLS or the Classic, which are more visceral, and deliberately more so," Dickinson says. "This is deliberately more refined, and more effortless, and more, 'Don't worry. I've got this. Let's just go fast.' And no drama."
Singer’s updates help accentuate the core mission of the 930. "It becomes what every 911 really is, which is a good companion," Dickinson says. "It's the only car you need. It's the car that you can throw the kids in, you can throw the groceries in. Or you can drive enthusiastically up a canyon road or even a track. It occupies all those things. If you only have space for one car to do it all, this is the car.”
The Turbo, in Dickinson’s mind, extended that appeal, "with its cross-country ability, its ability to also arrive at a fabulous restaurant with your partner and give off the right vibe, and also be something that you can… cross continents with at very high speed."
Dickinson is obviously a huge Porsche nut, a fan of the 911 in its many guises. But the 930 is a special car for him: It was the first Porsche he ever rode in.
"1976, I was 11 years old. That effortless overtaking power and that mind bending ability to gather speed once you're already going fast," he says, "it was just like, 'Fuck, are you fucking kidding me?' It was rocket-ship performance, even in 1976. And the car I was traveling in had, what, 270 horsepower, I think? We're almost doubling that, and the car's no heavier. Kind of cool."
A car enthusiast since childhood, Chris Perkins is Road & Track's engineering nerd and Porsche apologist. He joined the staff in 2016 and no one has figured out a way to fire him since. He street-parks a Porsche Boxster in Brooklyn, New York, much to the horror of everyone who sees the car, not least the author himself. He also insists he's not a convertible person, despite owning three.
