It’s often said that bacon is the worst culprit for turning vegetarians back to eating meat. I’ve seen it happen. On a short trip away with a friend of mine who had recently committed himself sincerely and forever to vegetarianism, I watched as his considerable willpower and determination were swept aside by the smell of a bacon sandwich. Some things, once tried, are just too good to resist.

I have never given up liking Porsche 911s, so the 964RS didn’t have to work hard to bring me back into the fold. But as a fan of 911s, this thing is like catnip to me: it is very 911ish. If it were bacon, then one whiff of it would have vegetarians biting chunks out of the person next to them.

The 964RS was a lightened, sported-up version of the 964, launched at the 1991 Geneva show for a sturdy £15,000 more than the standard Carrera 2. They were only built between 1992 and 1994. They didn’t have electric windows or electric seats, air-conditioning or sound deadening. And if that’s not got your tastebuds tingling already, you should listen to it.

The engine is the usual flat-six, a 3,600cc unit, lodged at the back and one glance is enough to confirm that, yes, it’s definitely a 911 engine because it looks like the back of a washing machine. Ugly as hell. But it sounds glorious: mechanical, harsh. No acoustic tweakery here, this is just the noise that engine makes when it’s spinning away to generate 256 of your finest German horses. Clattering out onto the track, I can sense immediately that this is old: it feels old-fashioned, the switchgear, the flat, simple dash, the round, simple clocks and basic trim all scream of a bygone era. Old-fashioned, yes, but not old, not past it. Hell no.

The weight saving that led to the deletion of luxuries also meant magnesium wheels and an aluminium bonnet, so it weighs in at a floaty 1,230kg. The lighter flywheel and closer ratios mean it barks like an angry dog and hauls through those close ratio gears just as aggressively. The 0-60 sprint time is 5.4secs, far from world-beating, but it does it with such a linear relentlessness allied to a sense that it will do it this time and the next and again and again forever without getting bored or whining about needing a service.

It rides on lower suspension than the standard car and has an asymmetrical limited-slip diff, all of which point to the track. And on the track is probably the best place to take a nourishing, delicious bite of this meaty little 911 sandwich. All the things a 911 lover loves: the feel through the steering wheel, the tiny shimmy from the front end when it goes light over a crest, the squat and grip from that weighty back end and the constant shouting, grinding, clattery racket from that ugly-ass engine (like a washing machine full of bear traps and honey badgers) are served up in massive helpings.

If you don’t like 911s, you won’t like this. If you do like 911s, then you will love this. It’s as simple as that. A modern 911 is still a wonderful thing, unique in the car world for the way it feels and sounds, but its heritage is what makes it special. The determination to keep the engine at the back made for decades of honing and refining to keep the thing the right side of drivable. But it’s that battle that has kept it feeling so alive. The weight transfer back towards and over the back axle makes for a car that feels more like a living, breathing thing than most others, and it is especially alive and busy in this car.

Old 911s are fast appreciating. This one is no exception. It would cost today as much as a new Turbo S, and you would, to most eyes, just be driving about in an old Porsche. And that too makes this a special car that is just a bit more 911ish than most.

This was the first Porsche to get the RS badge since the Carerra RS 2.7 and 3.0, and it wears that badge well. Yum.

Words: Richard Hammond

This feature was originally published in the September 2014 issue of Top Gear magazine

Specs: 3600cc 6cyl, RWD, 256bhp, 240lb ft, 20.4mpg, 274g/km CO2, 0-60mph in 5.4secs, 162mph top speed, 1230kg, £140,000 to £220,000