For the 991, it is this: the GT2 RS Clubsport EVO. It captured the end of an era—the raw combustion fireworks before electrification took the stage.
In Porsche’s long and occasionally mad history of building 911s, the GT2 RS has always been the lunatic cousin. The one you invite to dinner but keep away from the drinks cabinet. By 2018, the 991 GT2 RS was already the fastest, most savage 911 ever to leave Stuttgart—700 horsepower, rear-wheel drive, and a reputation for biting back.
But for Porsche Motorsport, that wasn’t enough. The engineers asked: “What if we gave customers a version designed solely for track lunacy? What if we removed the excuses, the airbags, and the license plates?” Thus, the GT2 RS Clubsport was born: a 200-unit, non-road-legal track toy. And then came its sharper twin—the Clubsport EVO, fettled further by Manthey Racing, Porsche’s unofficial mad scientists of Nürburgring lap records.
At the core sat a 3.8-liter twin-turbocharged flat-six, derived from the 911 Turbo S but pumped full of steroids. In GT2 RS trim it produced 700 horsepower. The EVO kit, with revised mapping, cooling, and aero, nudged that figure closer to 750 hp.
Weight? Around 1,390 kg—thanks to stripped interiors, carbon fiber panels, and a roll cage welded in like scaffolding at a concert venue. Aero was the big story: a massive carbon wing, dive planes, and Manthey-developed underbody tweaks. The EVO wasn’t about making more noise; it was about shaving tenths off already absurd lap times.
Transmission was a 7-speed PDK dual-clutch, chosen not for romance but for the blunt force trauma of instant shifts. Brakes were carbon-ceramic dinner plates, capable of peeling your eyelids off at full stomp.
What’s it like to drive? In a word: violent. The GT2 RS CS EVO does not whisper, it shouts—every gearchange, every turbo spool, every brake stomp feels like a physical assault. Yet Manthey’s magic wasn’t just more aggression, it was control. They calmed the notorious rear-engine pendulum, widened the track, adjusted suspension geometry, and made this 750-hp monster feel precise rather than suicidal.
On the Nürburgring, drivers like Lars Kern could lap consistently without white-knuckle terror. At private track days, wealthy customers discovered a shocking truth: the EVO wasn’t just faster than their other toys, it was easier to exploit. A rare case of German engineers making excess usable.
The GT2 RS Clubsport EVO wasn’t homologated for mainstream GT3 or GT4 categories—Porsche had other weapons for that. Instead, it carved out a niche in one-make events like the Porsche Motorsport GT2 Supersportscar Series, and served as the ultimate “gentleman racer” car.
Yet it wasn’t just rich playboys. Privateer teams took EVOs to endurance events, hill climbs, and even time-attack championships. The EVO’s combination of reliability and savagery made it a cult favorite. It was Porsche’s love letter to the idea that motorsport should still occasionally scare you.
Production was capped at 200 Clubsports, with the EVO upgrade offered later to a subset of owners. That means true EVOs are rarer still. Auction houses treat them like radioactive gold: too rare to ignore, too new to properly price.
For collectors, the EVO represents the last purely combustion GT2 RS before Porsche’s hybrid era takes over. It is the high-water mark of insanity in the 911 lineage—a swan song for petrol before electricity and EU regulators close the door.
Values? Already north of €600,000 for pristine examples, with EVO upgrades adding another layer of mystique. The market knows what this is: the “widowmaker” tamed by Manthey, the fastest 911 of its kind, and a car unlikely ever to be repeated.
Every generation of 911 has its hero. For the 991, it is this: the GT2 RS Clubsport EVO. It captured the end of an era—the raw combustion fireworks before electrification took the stage. It was Porsche Motorsport at its most unchained, yet paradoxically also at its most refined.
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Ask Lars Kern or Kevin Estre, men who have hustled these around the Nordschleife, and they’ll tell you: this was the moment a rear-engine 911 with nearly 750 hp could finally be both absurdly fast and shockingly predictable. It’s the car that taught physics a lesson and left the rest of the sports car world gasping.
The EVO is not just another fast Porsche. It is the punctuation mark at the end of 60 years of rear-engine combustion lunacy. Future 911s will be hybrids, perhaps even EVs. This car? It’s the last one to say: “Forget the rules. Let’s go faster.”
Collectors will guard them. Drivers will fear and love them. Historians will look back and say: “Here lies the last 911 that was utterly, gloriously, irresponsibly mad.”
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