Driving’s resident old dude Brian Harper and classic car fiend Clayton Seams took a road trip to Michigan earlier this year and found themselves behind the wheels of a handful of classic cars, generously on loan from the insurance provider, Hagerty. Here’s what they have to say about two performance legends from 1967 – a Shelby GT500 and a Porsche 911S.

Clayton Seams: How can 1967 be anything but the best year ever for cars? Horsepower levels were at record highs and it seemed like every manufacturer would happily sell you an ill-tempered race car for the street. Eventually, razor-like chrome bumpers and elegant wooden steering wheels would be gone as part of the legislation revolution that gave us the foam-padded safety cells we drive today. But before that happened, that marvellous age brought us two of the most desirable sport coupes ever made.

A sledgehammer and a scalpel. Clayton Seams , Driving

Two very different schools of automotive design Clayton Seams , Driving

Both cars can do 0-60 in 6.5 seconds. Clayton Seams , Driving

The number "500" in GT500 is arbitrary. Ol' Carrol just chose it because it was really big. Clayton Seams , Driving

The most valuable alphanumeric string in Porsche-dom Clayton Seams , Driving

This 2.0L fuel-injected motor is a full race unit. They commonly foul plugs if you don't wind them out hard and often. Clayton Seams , Driving

The wheel wears the patina of decades of use. Clayton Seams , Driving

The seats are constricting but the cabin is roomy. Clayton Seams , Driving

The mighty 428 big-block is fed by twin four-barrel carbs. Clayton Seams , Driving

The side scoops behind the door window glass are really just for looks. Clayton Seams , Driving

1967 was the first year for the 911 S Clayton Seams , Driving

The interior of the GT500 was very upscale and sporty for a domestic automaker Clayton Seams , Driving

Initially, the foglights were mounted in the centre of the grill but were later moved to the corners to comply with state lighting legislation. Clayton Seams , Driving

Hood pins secure the fiberglass hood to the body Clayton Seams , Driving

1967 Shelby GT500 Clayton Seams , Driving

This Porsche actually belongs to Hagerty Insurance boss, McKeel Hagerty and he's had it since he was a kid. Clayton Seams , Driving

And we have the keys. Those keys (and the cars) belong to classic car insurance provider, Hagerty. Lined up on the shores of Lake Michigan, we have two very different takes on the classic 2+2 GT coupe. I choose a brawny 1967 Shelby GT500, complete with two fuel-gulping Holleys perched on top of an all-iron 428 cu.-in. big block V8. My colleague, Brian Harper, sides with a more genteel 1967 Porsche 911S with a jewel of a 2.0L flat six wedged in the back – in fact, the Porsche was the first car of company CEO McKeel Hagerty himself. It’s a V8 apple facing off against an air-cooled orange. Brian, how do you expect to compete with only 180 horsepower?

Brian Harper: Finesse, my dear Clayton, finesse. On our twisty road route, the 911S is a scalpel, the Shelby a meat cleaver. It bears explaining, however, that neither of these cars is a trailer queen; both are regularly put out on the road for “exercise.” That said, the Shelby is an older restoration and probably could have used a little TLC. The 911 was more recently renovated, and was better screwed together to begin with.

The bigger issue at hand was the Shelby’s clunky C6 three-speed automatic, which, to me, is a travesty. The original owner of this car, who could have chosen the four-speed manual, was a wuss! Look, I’ll grant you the Shelby is still stinkin’ fast, its 355-hp 428 pushing only 3,370 pounds. But that big ol’ iron block is weighing down the front end, and there is a lot of play in the steering, so it’s more a case of directing the car through the curves, not driving it.

The 911S, more than 1,000 pounds lighter, sailed through those same curves. The only recurring thought I had was to not back off the throttle in the middle of a corner, lest the 911’s reputation for swapping ends proved to be true. Besides, you have to admit the panoramic view through the Porsche’s windshield was impossible to beat.

CS: Impossible to beat? While the view out the front of the 911 is good, I’d rather see about six miles of sculpted fiberglass hood bulging with scoops and heat extractors. The GT500 is a full-force visual assault. It has no less than eight scoops adorning its body and, while only four of those actually do anything, they all contribute to the mean look. And looking cool is half the battle.

The GT500 lacks the driving precision of the 911, but I’d argue it makes up for that in pure tire-destroying, rip-snorting fun! The GT500 is a locomotive with some racing stripes painted onto it. Every full-throttle upshift is violent and sends the rear tires spinning. Hardly the most efficient way to get around but possibly the most fun.

That said, I must admit that for all its seven-litre bravado, the GT500 just can’t hang with the 911 in the sound department. The rasp emitted by the 911 is so purely race car that it makes you feel like strapping in for Le Mans 1967. Nothing sounds like an air-cooled 911. I found myself winding the motor up just to hear it more. Speed was merely a handy by-product.

BH: Point taken. The long look down the 500’s hood is a lovely view. But I don’t share your fascination with useless scoops. I much prefer the visual purity of the 1965 and ’66 GT350s. The ’67 GT500 is over-styled, Carroll Shelby trying too hard to differentiate his machines from regular Mustangs.

And, yes, the 911S’s howl as it snakes up to its 6,600-rpm redline sent shivers up my spine. Like the Shelby, it’s over-carbed as well, with two three-barrel Webers mixing up a high-octane concoction.

I have to say I was shocked by how much I preferred the Porsche over Carroll’s finest. Growing up during the pony car wars — too young to drive them when they were new, but old enough to read about them — I was a “Ford man,” particularly, Cobras, Mustangs and T-Birds (this despite the fact my only experience with the brand was a clapped-out Maverick my dad got for my brother and I to share when we got our licences). It was great to finally get to drive one of my dream cars; it was even better to flog one of the best sports cars of its day, though it took a few attempts to figure out the five-speed manual (first was the dogleg, not fifth).

CS: The GT500 does exactly what it says on the tin. It’s fast, brash and tickles all the muscle-car pleasure centers. But despite GT trimmings like the wood-rim steering wheel, racing stripes, and dual carbs, it can’t hide its blue-collar roots. The 911, on the other hand, is a driving tool, a precise scalpel with which you can carve a road of your choosing. It idles rough, it’s hard to drive, and the steering is heavy and direct. It has that “race car in a suit” feeling that the very best sports cars exude. The Shelby makes you want to nail the gas at every stoplight and keep the rear tires ablaze, whereas the 911 simply just makes you want to drive it faster and faster as long as you can. And that’s the mark of a truly great sports car.

Driving these cars was a truly special privilege and both managed to live up to the poster-car hype. But we both agree on the end result: the 911S is the 1967 2+2 we’d rather add to our garage.