Adding WCE's 959 body kit to a 1974-vintage 911 is just the start of the fun...
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With 1200 lb-ft of torque on tap, Liddle decided to do away with the clutch – one less thing to go wrong, he says – and leave it as a one-gear semi-automatic. With so much muscle, you don't really need the lower four gears. Not unless you want to burn rubber at every stop light.
Climb aboard, turn the key, and…nothing. Just the tick-tick-tick of the fuel pump, which is now used to circulate water around the Zilla controller. So, push the poker-like gear lever into fifth, squeeze the throttle, and the car lunges off the line like some power-crazed golf cart. It feels quick, particularly up to 50mph; probably 0-to-50 in five seconds quick.
But boy, the lack of noise is spooky. In place of that spine-tingling Porsche flat-six scream, there's the distant hum of a Whirlpool washer-dryer on spin cycle. And when you come to a stop, you think you've stalled.
Keep your right foot down and it'll happily cruise at 70mph and can top out at close to 100mph. But the more speed – particularly if you keep it steady at 70-plus – and you'll burn lots of amps, reducing your range.
We didn't get to verify Liddle's claim of a 70- to 80-mile range – I didn't fancy calling in the flat-bed when the power finally went out. But we spent the afternoon cruising through West Palm Beach and along the coast roads, covering over 50 miles without the volts coming anywhere close to going AWOL.
And if the juice does start to run low, pull up to the nearest Mickey-Ds, ask nicely to use their electric socket, and an onboard 20-amp charger can gave the batteries an 85 percent boost in around 40 minutes.
Adding WCE's 959 body kit to a 1974-vintage 911 is just the start of the fun...
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Liddle reckons that an 80-mile range will pretty much meet the needs of 90 percent of drivers, who either commute to the office, run errands, or just go for a fun drive at the weekends. For road trips, they're more likely to use the family SUV than a classic 911.
Of course, with 1,100 pounds of batteries on board, the electric 911feels heavier and a lot less nimble than the standard car.
But with the center of gravity lower and the weight balance split 45 percent front, 55 percent rear, the car does scoot nicely around curves.
To compensate for the extra weight, Liddle fits fully adjustable Weltmeister sway bars and heavy duty Bilstein shocks front and rear. The ride feels firm, but no more brittle than a regular mid-'80s 911.
Of course, the car's novelty value is priceless; this is a bigger crowd-pleaser than any V8 Ferrari or scissor-doored Lambo. It's worth the price just to see the reaction of friends who climb into the passenger seat, expecting that hollow rasp on an air-cooled flat-six Porker, only to be greeted by near-total silence.
As for the price, Liddle "charges" around $34,000 for the conversion to electric, and around $50,000 if he provides the donor 911. Want the 959 body conversion? Add another $15-grand for the kit, fitting and paint. Most of his cars have gone to wealthy enthusiasts who want them for their novelty value.
But to me it makes plenty of sense if you own a high-miler 911, or you see one on eBay with a blown motor, that's going cheap. With gas back to nudging the $3-a-gallon mark – and every likelihood that it'll go higher – the idea of a blast-to-drive, emissions-free, electric Porsche makes a lot of sense. You could call it one electrifying idea.
For more info, and to see some of the other crazy electric conversions Liddle is offering – how about an electric Rolls Phantom? – take a look at
www.worldclassexotics.com.
Tampa-based writer Howard Walker has been covering the auto beat for more than 30 years. Former editor of Britain's Motor magazine and Editor-in-Chief of Classic & Sportscar, Walker now reports on the U.S. auto scene for more than a dozen international publications, including Britain's top weekly, Autocar. He also edits the duPont Registry's Exotic Car Guide and is a member of the influential North American Car of the Year jury.