It’s 8am before the Boxster S first plunges into my corner. The early morning mountain mist that threatened to spoil my fun and ruin our photo shoot has lifted. In the now-open cockpit, all my senses exposed to the rush of delights only sports car drivers understand, the Boxster is up for the challenge.

The new Porsche’s deeper flat-six induction yowl echoes across the valley, blending into the exhaust note, the rev counter needle surging above 6000rpm, until they’re an inseparable howl at the 7200rpm red line, just a couple of hundred revs shy of the cutout. Snick to second, conscious the quick-throw gearlever’s travel is now shorter, the change more precise, though in truth the S feels no more accelerative than the outgoing model. Reminder: must check the numbers.

The Boxster squats over the rear wheels, planted, secure, whipping into the sweeping right-hander. The new variable-rate steering filters out any surface irritations – no jiggling steering wheel here – but is also vaguer around the straight ahead. As on the new 911, there is a perception of needing more initial lock on turn-in, then an ever-quickening sense of added precision and accuracy.

White knuckles, heart rate on the increase, time for a confidence lift. Pointless – there is so much grip, the gentle change in attitude is transparent, poise undisturbed, even over the small post-apex lateral ridge that’s upset the balance of many rival cars through this same favourite corner. Right foot nailed, lock wound on, understeer sustained, mechanical grip overwhelming power, the Boxster hunkers down and belts out of the corner in third gear. Hmm, do the (optional) 19-inch Michelin Pilot Sport tyres, developed specifically for the Porsche, actually offer too much adhesion?