What is it?
Two-seat, mid-engine, convertible sports car. Standard features include: air conditioning; anti-lock brakes; front and rear trunks; remote locking and security alarm; AM-FM stereo with cassette tape player; headlight washers; power steering, brakes, windows, mirrors, top.

How much?
$40,745 to start; $50,000-plus loaded.

How soon?
On sale now.

How big?
Typical for a sports car: 171 inches long, 70 inches wide, 50.8 inches tall, on a 95.2-inch wheelbase.

How fast?
The manual-transmission model accelerates from rest to 60 miles per hour in 6.7 seconds; the automatic, 7.4 seconds. Top speed is 149 mph in the manual, 146 mph in the auto.

How many?
Porsche's U.S. sales arm thinks it could sell 1,000 a month, but probably will get only about 700 a month from the German factory. Regardless, Porsche expects Boxster to become its most popular model, doubling Porsche sales in the USA to 14,000 a year.

Good things comes in small Boxsters

SURPRISE, Ariz. - Porsche Boxster; don't go there. You might never get back.
See, here's what'll happen. You'll stare at the charming, lumpy shape until it draws you inside. You'll plop into the just-right bucket seat and try to insert the key on the right side of the steering wheel, which is the wrong side.
You'll fumble and recall that Porsches have the ignition on the left, left over from when race drivers had to sprint to their cars at the LeMans race and start the engines with one hand while slamming the car into gear with the other for a fast dash away in the green-flag flash dance. That'll remind you that Porsches, more than other cars, are race cars tamed for the street, making you a little nervous about what comes next.
The hefty mechanical chuffing of the Boxster's six-cylinder engine, snugged a few inches behind your butt, will get you tingling and anxious. You'll ease out the Boxster's clutch, expecting to kill the high-strung dervish so close behind, and find instead that the clutch engages so smoothly and the engine is so tame at low speeds, it's almost like moving off in an automatic transmission car.
The mechanical whine of the chain-driven camshafts will provoke you into aiming down an open road, where you'll be unable to resist slamming the gas pedal. That'll send you and the car rushing forward smoothly, all polished and proper, until the tachometer shows 4,000 revolutions per minute. Then it'll really happen.
The air intakes on the sides of the Boxster aren't far from your ears, so you won't be able to avoid overhearing the busy mechanical noises turn into a yowl, a combination of the hefty blat Porsche sixes always make and the edgy howl-like issues from a Ferrari V-12 engine. The stirring sound crescendos, falls, repeats at 5,200 rpm and winks again at 6,000 rpm as the tach needle rushes toward 6,700, where the red marks on the tach say it is time to shift gears.
Up through the five gears you'll shift, hurtling urgently toward each of those triple peaks of aural pleasure in each gear. You'll hold your gas foot down in a crazed dash toward - well, the regional landfill south of here, lost for the moment off the prescribed test-drive route but not caring.
Corners will appear. At first, you'll take the signs seriously and slow to the recommended 15 miles per hour. Soon, you'll see the car waltzes through at twice that. And you'll discover the same about 25 mph corners; that the highway engineers surely must have meant 50 mph. And you'll remember that Arizona interstates have 75 mph speed limits and maybe you should find an interstate corner and try it at . . .
Don't go there.
You're too young to spend your life in jail. Ease off. Hit those racing-quality brakes and rein in the Boxster while you collect yourself. This is, after all, the entry Porsche. The $40,000 new kid; not the $100,000 911 Turbo model. It must be an illusion. You can't be having this much fun.
You'll duck behind some sedate traffic to reclaim your citizenship among the road regulars. The Boxster will burble smoothly, under control, not complaining. But you won't be able to get that sound out of your mind. You'll slap the lever down into a lower gear, nose out into the passing lane and lay heavily into the throttle. The revs will rise. The engine's song will reappear. You'll relax.
Sedated momentarily by the swirling fury of the modest, 2.5-liter engine squeezing out 201 horsepower, you'll head for the hills and curves to coax the car through other challenges. You'll notice that the front end changes direction at your gentlest suggestion, unencumbered, because 500 pounds of engine that sits atop the steering in most cars sits in the middle of the Boxster. Bumpy roads, rough patches, will talk to you unendingly through the steering wheel, asking for your subtle guidance.
The sky will brighten. You'll pull over, press a big, fat button up by the windshield, and stab your index finger at the power-top switch near the console, holding it 12 seconds until the two-ply fabric top and its plastic rear window fold into a neat stack just behind your shoulders and are mechanically tucked in by a metal cover.
Then you'll ease back onto the road and run up through the gears again, shivering at each spine-tingling howl.
You'll begin to forget the stern admonition that cars are just transportation, vessels to get you from A to B. You'll become certain that Porsche's custom child seat really will shut off the passenger air bag when your precious baby is fastened into the fresh-air chair next to you. You'll begin to believe that the 9.2 cubic feet of combined space in the front and rear trunks is plenty for groceries, camping gear, family debris and the like, though any modest sedan has nearly twice the room in one handy bustle.
The loan or lease payments will start to diminish to reasonableness as you mentally spread them over, say, seven or eight years instead of the normal three or four.
Who cares if Boxster's noisy inside when the pavement's rough? Who needs a glove compartment? Or cup holders? You can get a luggage rack to go on the optional hardtop for hauling stuff. When the top is down, you can snap on the wind blocker to keep your hair in place. The blocker doesn't squeak all that much, and besides, wind, road and engine noises drown it out pretty well when you're really wheeling.
You can shop carefully to make sure you get a car that doesn't have the wind whistle around the windshield. You can even get the optional five-speed Tiptronic automatic transmission so that when you get the big job in the city the Boxster will cope with gridlock and not wear out your clutch leg. Tiptronic is only $3,200 extra. How much more a month could that be, after all? So what if you have trouble coordinating the Tiptronic's dual moves: Yank the gear lever into the ``manual'' slot, then hit the switch on the steering wheel to pick the right gear? You'll learn. You'll run into a Porsche race driver at a party somewhere and learn the counter-intuitive but highly effective way to shift Tiptronic: Brake with your left foot as the corner approaches, and at the moment you'd downshift a manual gearbox, slam the gas to the floor and instantly let off. Bang, Tiptronic shifts down a gear or two so you can boil out of the corner in just the right gear.
You won't even have to worry about bad weather. Surely the Boxster's two-stage traction control will get you through. If the Automatic Brake Differential can't start you by diverting power from the slipping rear wheel to the gripping one, why, the Automatic Slip Reduction will squeeze the binders on both rear wheels a little and that surely will get you going.
And those soft, sticky Bridgestone tires that hang on so well in the curves, they'll probably last more than 15,000 miles. That's plenty of time to save up for new ones. And by then they'll probably even be sold by someone other than the Porsche dealer so you can get a big discount.
No problem.
Photo: 1997 Porsche Boxster (Porsche)
By James R. Healey, USA TODAY