Wow. What a pleasure to read.I bought my Taycan 4 Cross Turismo expecting to love it.
I did not expect it to completely reset my understanding of what a car could be.
This is my first Porsche. I came into the brand without decades of 911 ownership behind me, without childhood memories of air-cooled engines, and without any particular need to defend the badge. I simply wanted a fast, beautiful, practical electric car that could carry my family and our luggage across Europe.
What I found was something far more special.
My CT4 is a 2022 car on 20-inch Turbo S Aero wheels, with rear-axle steering, air suspension, the panoramic roof, roof rails and the Off-Road Design Package. In other words, it is not the lightest, lowest or most range-optimised Taycan ever built.
And I absolutely adore it.
There are faster Taycans, of course. Much faster ones. But I genuinely struggle to imagine needing more performance on a public road. The CT4 already delivers that surreal Taycan sensation: immediate acceleration, immense traction and a centre of gravity that makes two tonnes of family estate car seem to disappear beneath you.
What impresses me most, however, is not how fast it is.
It is the completeness of it.
It can glide silently through a town with the composure of a luxury car, then shrink around you on a twisting road. The steering is beautifully judged. The body control is extraordinary. The rear-axle steering makes it feel far smaller than it is. The ride remains composed even when the road deteriorates. Then you park it, look back, and remember that this wonderfully practical family car also happens to be one of the most beautiful shapes Porsche has ever produced.
The Cross Turismo does not feel like an electric estate wearing a Porsche badge. It feels like Porsche took the electric drivetrain seriously enough to build an entirely new kind of Porsche around it.
And then there is the subject that seems to dominate every Taycan discussion: range.
Before buying mine, I read everything. Disappointing range estimates. Winter consumption. Battery degradation. Charging curves. Stories about people arriving at chargers with 3 per cent remaining, apparently one broken Ionity station away from disaster.
I assumed range would be the compromise I would have to accept in exchange for everything else.
It has not been.
Since collecting the car, we have driven it from Paris to the south of France, from Paris to Bremen, across Denmark and Sweden, and on countless shorter family journeys. One day it is covering 800 kilometres through rain, heat and motorway traffic. The next it is carrying children and luggage along small coastal roads. Most recently, we drove from Höllviken to Bjärred, across to Louisiana in Denmark, and back again.
It simply gets on with it.
On faster motorway journeys at 120 to 130 km/h, I generally see consumption in the region of 24 to 25 kWh/100 km. In good conditions on slower roads, the car regularly drops towards 18 to 21. I have seen sub-18 figures over meaningful distances. From a large, four-wheel-drive, two-tonne Cross Turismo with an off-road package, that is remarkable.
No, it will not travel 500 motorway kilometres at 130 km/h without stopping. But neither will my family.
After two or three hours, somebody needs coffee, food, a toilet or simply ten minutes outside the car. When the battery is warm and the charger is working properly, the Taycan often finishes charging before we have finished doing whatever caused us to stop.
That is the part the range-anxiety conversation misses.
You do not experience an electric road trip as one enormous countdown from 100 per cent to zero. You experience it as a series of very manageable driving stages, with short stops that fit naturally into the journey. The Taycan’s great strength is not merely the size of its battery. It is how efficiently it uses that battery, how consistently it covers ground and how quickly it can take energy back on board.
After thousands of kilometres, I no longer think, “Can the car make it?”
I think, “Where would we like to stop?” That is a profound difference.
Of course, it is not perfect. The software can occasionally remind you that Porsche had considerably more experience building chassis than computers. The range estimator can be comically pessimistic after a run of short journeys. Public charging infrastructure still varies enormously. And owning a Taycan will teach you far more about temperature, wind and elevation than you ever expected to know.
But none of those things defines the ownership experience.
What defines it is the moment you leave early in the morning with the family asleep, the cabin quiet and the road almost empty. It is the way the car settles at speed, utterly stable and untroubled. It is the little movement of the steering wheel as you guide it into a long bend. It is the impossible combination of calmness and urgency. It is arriving hundreds of kilometres later feeling as though the car could turn around and do the whole journey again.
The Taycan is sometimes discussed as though it were an early and now outdated attempt at an electric Porsche, judged mainly by a WLTP number or compared with newer cars carrying larger batteries.
That misses the point entirely.
A car is not a battery specification with seats attached. Range matters, but so do steering, braking, comfort, confidence, design, build quality and the simple desire to drive somewhere for no reason other than the road itself.
The Taycan, and perhaps especially the Cross Turismo, brings all of those things together in a way I have never experienced before.
It is a sports car when I want one, a quiet long-distance express when I need one, and a family estate every day. It carries children, suitcases and all the debris of family life, yet still makes an ordinary journey feel like an event.
So yes, my first Porsche is electric.
It is also one of the finest cars I have ever driven.
And if this is what entering the Porsche world feels like, I finally understand why so many people never leave.
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Enjoy. Nothing like driving the Taycan in Norway. You'll be absolutely spoilt for charging options.Our first road trip will bring us to the Fjords of Norway. The stunning Taycan in this stunning surroundings will force me to take my analog Hasselblad camera along with my tripod. No more packing issues, like I had with my 911s.
Thank you for your reply. Good luck with the 911 and the luggage…Tetris-Knowledge could be handy ;-)Enjoy. Nothing like driving the Taycan in Norway. You'll be absolutely spoilt for charging options.
Packing up the 911 though is half the fun:
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My Hasselblad is in the black rucksack/camera bag.
Vilken hyllning. Har liknande erfarenheter själv. Magisk bil, helt problemfri. Möjligen skulle jag önska en vettigt fungerande förvärmning av batteriet, men nu har jag bestämt mig för att ställa av Taycanen i vinter och slita gamla Audidieseln istället så det spelar ingen större roll för mig. Hade gärna haft en riktig dragkrok också om jag fick önska. Men i övrigt så tickar den i alla boxar, även som byggbilWow! I wrote the original post about one car.
Your replies turned it into something much bigger.
What has struck me most is not simply how many people agreed, but how many added their own version of the same story. Taycans with tens of thousands of trouble-free miles. Former 911, BMW and Mercedes owners. Cars carrying children, dogs, golf clubs, cameras, luggage and, perhaps most importantly, cases of Burgundy and Champagne. Taycans crossing countries, exploring remote regions and still making their owners look for excuses to take the long way home.
Different models, different countries, different lives. Yet the same unmistakable affection.
And I think that matters, particularly for anyone who arrives here considering a used Taycan.
Spend enough time on an owners’ forum and it is easy to believe that every Taycan is either displaying a red electrical warning, waiting for a battery module or searching desperately for a working charger. That is understandable. People rarely start a thread to announce that their car started normally, completed another journey and arrived home without incident.
Problems create posts. Reliability creates mileage.
That does not make the failures imaginary or unimportant. Some owners have endured unacceptable breakdowns, long repair times and experiences far below what anyone should expect from Porsche. Their stories deserve to be told, and forums like this are invaluable precisely because they give owners somewhere to share them and help one another.
But they are not the whole story.
The quieter story is being written every day by thousands of Taycans that simply work. They leave home, carry people across cities and countries, charge while their owners have lunch, and return ready to do it again the following morning. No warning lights. No recovery truck. No dramatic forum thread. Just an exceptional car doing what it was built to do.
The replies here have been a wonderful reminder of that.
They are not a scientific reliability study, but they do correct the picture. The Taycan is not merely a collection of red rings, battery recalls, depreciation charts and pessimistic range estimates. For most of us, most of the time, it is something far less dramatic and far more meaningful:
It is the car outside that we cannot wait to drive again.
Range anxiety also seems to disappear in much the same way. Not through arguments or WLTP figures, but through experience. You complete the first long journey, then another. You arrive with more battery than expected. You discover that charging fits into the natural rhythm of travelling. Eventually, the question changes from “Can an electric car do this?” to “Where shall we go next?”
Perhaps that is the real lesson from all these stories.
The internet is very good at documenting how products fail. It is less good at capturing the countless ordinary days on which they succeed, or the extraordinary pleasure they can bring while doing so.
Thank you to everyone who shared their experience here. I started this thread because I had fallen in love with my own CT4. I leave it even more convinced that I did not simply get lucky.
Most Taycans are not red rings of death waiting to happen.
They are remarkable cars waiting for the next road.
Taycan ParisWow! I wrote the original post about one car.
Your replies turned it into something much bigger.
What has struck me most is not simply how many people agreed, but how many added their own version of the same story. Taycans with tens of thousands of trouble-free miles. Former 911, BMW and Mercedes owners. Cars carrying children, dogs, golf clubs, cameras, luggage and, perhaps most importantly, cases of Burgundy and Champagne. Taycans crossing countries, exploring remote regions and still making their owners look for excuses to take the long way home.
Different models, different countries, different lives. Yet the same unmistakable affection.
And I think that matters, particularly for anyone who arrives here considering a used Taycan.
Spend enough time on an owners’ forum and it is easy to believe that every Taycan is either displaying a red electrical warning, waiting for a battery module or searching desperately for a working charger. That is understandable. People rarely start a thread to announce that their car started normally, completed another journey and arrived home without incident.
Problems create posts. Reliability creates mileage.
That does not make the failures imaginary or unimportant. Some owners have endured unacceptable breakdowns, long repair times and experiences far below what anyone should expect from Porsche. Their stories deserve to be told, and forums like this are invaluable precisely because they give owners somewhere to share them and help one another.
But they are not the whole story.
The quieter story is being written every day by thousands of Taycans that simply work. They leave home, carry people across cities and countries, charge while their owners have lunch, and return ready to do it again the following morning. No warning lights. No recovery truck. No dramatic forum thread. Just an exceptional car doing what it was built to do.
The replies here have been a wonderful reminder of that.
They are not a scientific reliability study, but they do correct the picture. The Taycan is not merely a collection of red rings, battery recalls, depreciation charts and pessimistic range estimates. For most of us, most of the time, it is something far less dramatic and far more meaningful:
It is the car outside that we cannot wait to drive again.
Range anxiety also seems to disappear in much the same way. Not through arguments or WLTP figures, but through experience. You complete the first long journey, then another. You arrive with more battery than expected. You discover that charging fits into the natural rhythm of travelling. Eventually, the question changes from “Can an electric car do this?” to “Where shall we go next?”
Perhaps that is the real lesson from all these stories.
The internet is very good at documenting how products fail. It is less good at capturing the countless ordinary days on which they succeed, or the extraordinary pleasure they can bring while doing so.
Thank you to everyone who shared their experience here. I started this thread because I had fallen in love with my own CT4. I leave it even more convinced that I did not simply get lucky.
Most Taycans are not red rings of death waiting to happen.
They are remarkable cars waiting for the next road.
Fantastic write up, and a great description of what this car is all about.I bought my Taycan 4 Cross Turismo expecting to love it.
I did not expect it to completely reset my understanding of what a car could be.
This is my first Porsche. I came into the brand without decades of 911 ownership behind me, without childhood memories of air-cooled engines, and without any particular need to defend the badge. I simply wanted a fast, beautiful, practical electric car that could carry my family and our luggage across Europe.
What I found was something far more special.
My CT4 is a 2022 car on 20-inch Turbo S Aero wheels, with rear-axle steering, air suspension, the panoramic roof, roof rails and the Off-Road Design Package. In other words, it is not the lightest, lowest or most range-optimised Taycan ever built.
And I absolutely adore it.
There are faster Taycans, of course. Much faster ones. But I genuinely struggle to imagine needing more performance on a public road. The CT4 already delivers that surreal Taycan sensation: immediate acceleration, immense traction and a centre of gravity that makes two tonnes of family estate car seem to disappear beneath you.
What impresses me most, however, is not how fast it is.
It is the completeness of it.
It can glide silently through a town with the composure of a luxury car, then shrink around you on a twisting road. The steering is beautifully judged. The body control is extraordinary. The rear-axle steering makes it feel far smaller than it is. The ride remains composed even when the road deteriorates. Then you park it, look back, and remember that this wonderfully practical family car also happens to be one of the most beautiful shapes Porsche has ever produced.
The Cross Turismo does not feel like an electric estate wearing a Porsche badge. It feels like Porsche took the electric drivetrain seriously enough to build an entirely new kind of Porsche around it.
And then there is the subject that seems to dominate every Taycan discussion: range.
Before buying mine, I read everything. Disappointing range estimates. Winter consumption. Battery degradation. Charging curves. Stories about people arriving at chargers with 3 per cent remaining, apparently one broken Ionity station away from disaster.
I assumed range would be the compromise I would have to accept in exchange for everything else.
It has not been.
Since collecting the car, we have driven it from Paris to the south of France, from Paris to Bremen, across Denmark and Sweden, and on countless shorter family journeys. One day it is covering 800 kilometres through rain, heat and motorway traffic. The next it is carrying children and luggage along small coastal roads. Most recently, we drove from Höllviken to Bjärred, across to Louisiana in Denmark, and back again.
It simply gets on with it.
On faster motorway journeys at 120 to 130 km/h, I generally see consumption in the region of 24 to 25 kWh/100 km. In good conditions on slower roads, the car regularly drops towards 18 to 21. I have seen sub-18 figures over meaningful distances. From a large, four-wheel-drive, two-tonne Cross Turismo with an off-road package, that is remarkable.
No, it will not travel 500 motorway kilometres at 130 km/h without stopping. But neither will my family.
After two or three hours, somebody needs coffee, food, a toilet or simply ten minutes outside the car. When the battery is warm and the charger is working properly, the Taycan often finishes charging before we have finished doing whatever caused us to stop.
That is the part the range-anxiety conversation misses.
You do not experience an electric road trip as one enormous countdown from 100 per cent to zero. You experience it as a series of very manageable driving stages, with short stops that fit naturally into the journey. The Taycan’s great strength is not merely the size of its battery. It is how efficiently it uses that battery, how consistently it covers ground and how quickly it can take energy back on board.
After thousands of kilometres, I no longer think, “Can the car make it?”
I think, “Where would we like to stop?” That is a profound difference.
Of course, it is not perfect. The software can occasionally remind you that Porsche had considerably more experience building chassis than computers. The range estimator can be comically pessimistic after a run of short journeys. Public charging infrastructure still varies enormously. And owning a Taycan will teach you far more about temperature, wind and elevation than you ever expected to know.
But none of those things defines the ownership experience.
What defines it is the moment you leave early in the morning with the family asleep, the cabin quiet and the road almost empty. It is the way the car settles at speed, utterly stable and untroubled. It is the little movement of the steering wheel as you guide it into a long bend. It is the impossible combination of calmness and urgency. It is arriving hundreds of kilometres later feeling as though the car could turn around and do the whole journey again.
The Taycan is sometimes discussed as though it were an early and now outdated attempt at an electric Porsche, judged mainly by a WLTP number or compared with newer cars carrying larger batteries.
That misses the point entirely.
A car is not a battery specification with seats attached. Range matters, but so do steering, braking, comfort, confidence, design, build quality and the simple desire to drive somewhere for no reason other than the road itself.
The Taycan, and perhaps especially the Cross Turismo, brings all of those things together in a way I have never experienced before.
It is a sports car when I want one, a quiet long-distance express when I need one, and a family estate every day. It carries children, suitcases and all the debris of family life, yet still makes an ordinary journey feel like an event.
So yes, my first Porsche is electric.
It is also one of the finest cars I have ever driven.
And if this is what entering the Porsche world feels like, I finally understand why so many people never leave.
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