It's late morning on sun-kissed Angeles Crest Highway. My right foot is commanding four-figure horsepower from a twin-turbocharged, air-cooled engine, my left is mitigating thrust through a hydraulic clutch, and my wrist is strapped with a timepiece from a legendary German camera maker. Welcome to my unlikely midsummer mechanical symphony.
This feast for the senses comes courtesy of two unlikely players entwined in a raucous dance: the 1,067-horsepower Gunther Werks F-26 ($1.67 million) and the Leica ZM 11 Titanium ($7,600 for the watch head plus $1,500 for the titanium bracelet). Tucked into my knapsack is a full-frame Leica Q3 camera ($7,350) packing a 60-megapixel sensor into its compact die-cast magnesium body, a handcrafted technological hot rod in its own right.
Photo: Basem Wasef
From the driver's seat I may as well be piloting a Porsche 917/30 Can-Am car on public roads, as the Gunther Werks F-26 produces comparable power to the 1970s-era racer and is nearly as surly. Based on a 993 series (1995-1998 model years) Porsche chassis, the F-26 is a radically reborn take on the last generation of air-cooled 911s. The stubborn adherence to defunct technology is a bit like squeezing proverbial water from a stone, but the Rothsport-built 4.0-liter flat-six powerplant churns absurd numbers thanks to twin Garrett turbochargers, forged internals and enough advanced metallurgy and high-tolerance machining to facilitate a heady ceiling of 8,000 rpm, aided by E85 fuel, which helps cooling and prevents engine knock. The visual and functional pièce de résistance is a horizontally positioned flat fan that tips a hat to the flat-twelve 917's cooling solution and provides double the air volume of a standard 911's setup.
The F-26's body recalls something you'd see in a NASA skunkworks hangar, though its sloping hood is a direct nod to the 930 Flachbau and 935 race cars. The carbon fiber skin shrouds chunky 335mm and 295mm rubber wrapped around magnesium wheels, not unlike a dedicated competition machine. Similarly focused is the systemic lightweighting which results in a dry curb weight of around 2,700 pounds, a figure just as impressive as its 1,067 horsepower.
The F-26's cabin is littered with all manner of experimental-feeling bits, from 3D-printed metal finishings to exposed carbon and Alcantara. The space-age cockpit is a rather natural habitat for the Leica ZM 11, especially with its lusterless titanium bracelet lending it an aerospace look and feel on the wrist. My borrowed timepiece wears a coffee-colored dial with fine horizontal stripes that come alive in direct California sunlight. Unlike the rigorously functional Gunther Werks, there's an aspect of warmth on my wrist thanks to the root beer-colored hues that emerge in the light. Beyond the LEICA WETZLAR typography on the face there aren't a whole lot of design cues overtly related to the brand's unmistakable cameras.
Photo: Basem Wasef
While the Leica rangefinder's Bauhaus-influenced body is a timeless industrial design icon, this timepiece straddles the line between minimalist functionality and restrained style. There's something intrinsically Teutonic about its approach, both calculated and rigorous while displaying its tinted dial with measured enthusiasm. Leica's signature red dot is tucked discreetly on the back side of the case, not unlike a crimson liner on a gray linen suit, though it does double duty as the pusher for Leica's Easy-Change strap release, borrowed from the lens release on the cameras. Within is Leica's LA-3001 caliber, a 60-hour reserve movement developed in conjunction with Chronode. At least within the F-26's interior space, the ZM 11 feels like a bit of ornamentation within a rather posh spaceship that's wrapped in an abundance of functional outerwear for maximal aerodynamics: vents, multi-layered body panels and a massive rear wing that delivers mighty downforce.
Driving, or more aptly piloting, the F-26 is like wrestling with an earthbound missile. There's a precision to the proceedings at low speed, the gummy tires carving a precise arc on the pavement and transmitting every bit of surface texture through a traditional hydraulic steering setup. The transparency of road noise and thrum of the powerplant betray its potential, but nothing prepares you for the ferality of squeezing the throttle and spinning the turbochargers, which in turn whiz the rear wheels so quickly that, if you lean into it, they will convert the Continental ExtremeContact Force tires into vapor before you can say "Scheiße!"
There is a similarly unsanitized feeling with handling, a tail-sliding, nose-carving inequality that results from abject power being dumped to the back wheels in a rear-engine layout. Though the drive axle has been moved back 30mm, there is still an inherently rear-biased feeling that lets this dramatically reworked model retain its inherent Porscheness. The F-26 doesn't feel unintuitive at these limits; it just reacts with such lightning quickness that it begs the driver to reconsider impulsive moves. There is a traction control system onboard, and its motorsports-derived origins are what keep the power delivery from getting too stifled, especially when the tires aren’t warmed up.
Photo: Basem Wasef
The adrenaline rush of maneuvering this lightweight, extraordinarily potent weapon up The Crest is countered by the understated timepiece that's getting a high G-force workout on my left wrist. I finally pull over onto a landing to meditate on the handmade supercar, of which only 26 will be built. Like the F-26's vault-like door shut, the Leica Q3 has an unmistakably hefty, mechanical feel in my hand. While I've become accustomed to leaning into my iPhone for the vast majority of my captures, the Leica brings a sense of occasion to the act, forcing me to consider shutter speed, aperture and a fixed focal length in ways a cell phone simply can't. There's also a satisfying click to the physical controls that recalls my years of shooting film on analog Yashicas and Nikons back in the day. The F-26's metallic paint flares in the daylight, now intense in its rays, and the Leica's raw shooting mode captures a stunning range of depth from the bright highlights on the car's hips to the deep shadows within the wheels. I also toted the Leica duo to Concorso d'Eleganza Villa d'Este earlier this year, where I noticed the two objects had a disparate effect on the concours-goers: while the Q3 was a familiar fixture among the cognoscenti, the ZM 11 was more of a rogue player. Upon seeing the Leica on my wrist, more than one horophile exclaimed, "I didn't know Leica made watches!"
Together this trio of objects, the Gunther Werks F-26, the Leica Q3 and the ZM 11 timepiece, feel united under the premise of exacting engineering and outrageous execution. There are cheaper, more sanitized ways of getting from A to B, telling time and capturing images. But there are few things more satisfying than the feeling of doing so with such deliberation.
