|  The moment I dropped the hammer on the Porsche Cayman S, an entirely unexpected emotion welled-up inside: fear. I was holding the wheel of the world's best sports car on a perfectly-groomed country road and I couldn't fully commit to a corner. I wasn't afraid of crashing— the Cayman is far too accomplished and forgiving and electronically mindful for that. I was afraid of the unknown. What if some dumb ass pulled out of a hidden drive without looking? What if a child's bike suddenly appeared just beyond the apex of a turn? My sightlines were good, but my nerves were shot. I suppose that's what happens when you spend too much seat time in a Honda Odyssey.
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