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Two Cars, One Number: Porsche 911 S/T and the Human Side of Perfection

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Porsche doesn’t miss details. It obsesses over them. So when a company that can tell you the weight difference between two paint finishes accidentally duplicates a limited-edition number on one of the most collectible 911s ever made, it’s less a scandal than a reminder: even perfection is assembled by humans.

To celebrate the 60th anniversary of the 911, Porsche built the 911 S/T—arguably the purest modern 911 this side of a motorsports paddock. Production was capped at 1,963 units, a nod to the year the original 911 debuted. Each car carries its individual build number on a badge mounted on the passenger-side dash. Or at least, it’s supposed to.

Somewhere between Zuffenhausen and the far corners of the globe, number 1724 was born twice.

One 911 S/T with that number went to Pedro Solís Klussmann, president of Porsche Club Guatemala. The other landed with Suzan Taher, who pilots her S/T on the opposite side of the planet. Same car. Same badge. Same number. Not exactly the sort of rarity Porsche intended.

The mistake stemmed from the most old-school part of the Sonderwunsch process: manual ordering. According to Karl-Heinz Volz, Director of Porsche Sonderwunsch, that human involvement is both the program’s greatest strength—and its occasional vulnerability. “Mistakes can happen,” Volz said, “The important thing is how you deal with them.” Credit Porsche for not hiding behind bureaucracy.

The irony? Klussmann had chosen 1724 with care. The 17th ties together birthdays shared by his mother, grandmother, and himself; the 24 marks his father’s birthday. Taher’s car, meanwhile, was meant to wear 1742, a number with no emotional backstory at all. Fate, it seems, had a sense of humor.

Porsche’s solution was peak Stuttgart. The company flew both owners to Zuffenhausen for a private, ceremonial mea culpa. There, they received corrected plaques, a framed photograph of their two cars together, and presentation boxes containing samples of their respective interior and exterior materials. The incorrect badge—the physical proof of the mix-up—was formally handed over to the Porsche archive, catalogued as part of company history while the owners looked on. Somewhere, a future brand historian is already smiling.

Beyond their brief numerical overlap, the two 911 S/Ts couldn’t be more different—and that’s the point.

Klussmann’s car wears the Heritage Design package, finished in Shore Blue Metallic, a color that feels lifted from Porsche’s greatest hits album. Inside, Classic Cognac fabric seat centers with black pinstripes deliver a tasteful wink to Porsche’s past, while a carbon-fiber roll cage reminds you this is no museum piece—it’s meant to be driven.

Taher’s S/T goes in the opposite direction, drenched in Paint to Sample Plus Rose Red. If the color feels familiar, it should. Known as “Fraise” in the 1970s, it adorned legends like the Carrera RS 2.7 and the IROC-spec 911 Carrera RSR 3.0. The shade was so compelling in this modern execution that Porsche will officially add it to the Paint to Sample catalog for the 2026 model year. Inside, Guards Red leather covers much of the cabin, turning the S/T into something that’s equal parts time capsule and contemporary statement.

And underneath all that personalization is the real reason the 911 S/T exists.

Developed in Weissach with a singular mission, the S/T is a love letter to lightness and involvement. Power comes from a naturally aspirated 4.0-liter flat-six producing 525 horsepower, paired exclusively with a close-ratio manual transmission. No turbos. No PDK. No distractions. Weight savings are obsessive, the chassis tuned for agility rather than lap-time bragging rights.

The name itself reaches back to Porsche history. In 1969, the 911 S spawned a competition-focused variant internally known as the 911 ST. The modern S/T carries that same philosophy forward: less mass, more feel, and a direct connection between driver and machine that’s increasingly rare in today’s performance-car landscape.

In the end, the duplicated number didn’t cheapen the 911 S/T. If anything, it added another layer to its story. These cars aren’t just collections of carbon fiber and carefully calibrated steering feel—they’re artifacts of a company that still does things by hand, still invites customers into its history, and still believes that owning a Porsche should feel personal.

Even when the numbers don’t quite add up the first time.

Source: Porsche

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Germany’s EV Charging Boom Is Outrunning Reality

Germany is building electric-car charging stations like there’s no tomorrow. The problem? Tomorrow’s drivers often aren’t showing up.

According to Germany’s Federal Network Agency, the country had roughly 185,000 public charging points by early November—about 140,000 standard chargers and 45,000 fast ones. On paper, that sounds like progress. In political speeches, it sounds even better. The original goal, set during Angela Merkel’s tenure, was a cool one million public chargers by 2030. That target has since been quietly walked back to 680,000—but even that figure now looks detached from how Germans actually charge their EVs.

Here’s the inconvenient truth: most EV drivers don’t need public chargers at all.

Home Is Where the Charge Is

Study after study shows that around 80 percent of German EV users are largely independent of public charging infrastructure. Why? Because they charge at home. Thanks to generous government subsidies, more than one million private wall boxes have already been installed in garages and driveways across the country. In other words, Germany already hit its original “one million chargers” milestone—just not where politicians were counting.

Public chargers, meanwhile, often sit idle. Data from charging-analysis firm Elvah paints a stark picture: outside of dense city centers and major highways, many public charging stations go unused for days at a time. They exist, they’re powered, and they’re waiting—just not needed.

A Business Model That Doesn’t Add Up

That mismatch has left charging-station operators in a bind. Building public chargers isn’t cheap. Between construction, leasing land, grid connections, and hardware, operators sink serious money into each site before a single kilowatt-hour is sold. When stations then stand empty, the math turns ugly.

To compensate, providers raise charging prices. Roadside charging becomes expensive, bordering on a luxury. Drivers notice—and respond logically by charging even more at home, where electricity is cheaper and more convenient. It’s a feedback loop that pushes public infrastructure further into irrelevance.

Building Yesterday’s Chargers for Tomorrow’s Cars

There’s another problem lurking under all that concrete and cabling: technology. EV development is moving fast. Charging hardware, not so much.

Many of Germany’s newly installed public chargers are already obsolete, designed around lower power levels that made sense a few years ago but feel painfully slow today. Drivers don’t want to park for an hour to add range; they want high-power DC fast chargers that can get them back on the road quickly. Instead, billions are being poured into slow chargers in residential areas—exactly where drivers already have wall boxes and no reason to plug in.

Infrastructure Without Demand

Germany’s charging push isn’t wrong in principle. A robust public network matters, especially for long-distance travel and urban drivers without private parking. But right now, expansion targets are being set by political ambition rather than real-world usage.

The result is an infrastructure rollout that looks impressive in press releases but shaky in practice: too many chargers, too little demand, and too much money spent on the wrong kind of hardware in the wrong places.

EV adoption doesn’t fail for lack of sockets. It fails when policy ignores how people actually live, drive, and charge. And in Germany, the cars have already figured that out—long before the planners did.

Source: Automotive News; Photo: Shutterstock

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Volkswagen Puts the Brakes on the ID.Buzz in America—At Least for Now

Volkswagen’s electric reboot of its most iconic vehicle was supposed to be a nostalgia-fueled home run. Instead, the ID.Buzz is quietly exiting the U.S. stage, with VW confirming it will not sell the electric van here for the 2026 model year—and strongly hinting that this may be more than just a brief intermission.

Volkswagen of America says the decision is final for MY2026. “After a careful evaluation of the current conditions in the electric vehicle market, we are making a strategic decision not to continue with the production of the MY26 ID. Buzz model for the American market,” a company representative stated. That’s corporate-speak for the math didn’t work.

Still, VW insists this isn’t a full-on cancellation. The company maintains that the ID.Buzz remains an important part of its global lineup and says the pause will allow it to focus on clearing existing inventory and supporting dealers through the remainder of the 2025 model year. That, VW claims, will set the stage for a potential return in 2027.

Whether that return actually happens—and whether anyone notices if it does—depends on a few uncomfortable realities.

The broader EV market in the U.S. has cooled considerably, with demand softening across nearly every price point and segment. Changing regulations, shrinking tax incentives, import duties, and rising costs have all taken their toll. But the ID.Buzz didn’t just get caught in that storm—it sailed straight into it wearing rose-colored glasses and a six-figure sticker.

The original Volkswagen Bus earned its cult status not just because it looked friendly or hauled surfboards, but because it was cheap, simple, and accessible. It was transportation for the masses, not a lifestyle accessory for the well-heeled. The ID.Buzz, by contrast, arrived in America priced far beyond what many nostalgia-driven buyers expected—or were willing to tolerate. What should have been a modern people’s van instead felt like a retro luxury experiment.

That disconnect proved fatal. For a vehicle trading so heavily on emotional appeal, the emotional math didn’t add up.

What makes the U.S. stumble even more glaring is the ID.Buzz’s success elsewhere. In Europe, the electric van is thriving. It currently commands a 22.5 percent share of the light commercial electric vehicle segment and leads its class outright. Sales in the first half of 2025 jumped by roughly 70 percent compared to the same period in 2024, with about 42,000 units sold so far this year. In other words, the ID.Buzz isn’t the problem—the American version of it might be.

High transportation costs and pricing strategy have created a massive gap between U.S. and European market performance, and until VW figures out how to close that gap, the ID.Buzz’s future stateside will remain shaky at best.

So no, the ID.Buzz hasn’t officially been killed in America—but it’s definitely in critical condition. If Volkswagen wants a successful encore in 2027, it will need to do something radical by modern EV standards: make it meaningfully cheaper. Otherwise, the reborn Bus risks becoming yet another reminder that nostalgia alone doesn’t sell cars—especially when the price tag snaps buyers back to reality.

Source: Volkswagen

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