As any Porsche lover knows, the automaker produces an electric sports car, the Taycan, which in GT Weissach form (US$231,995) develops 1,019 peak horsepower and takes just 2.1 seconds to reach 60 miles per hour. But what Porsche doesn’t do is produce an electric version of its absolutely iconic 911.
At the moment, that’s a job for the British company Everrati, which installs electric power into examples of the 911 built between 1988 and 1994 (code named 964). Everatti also transforms Land and Range Rovers, as well as classic Mercedes-Benz SLs, and an interpretation of the Ford GT40. The 911s have carbon-fiber body panels for lightness and are built in California through a partnership with Aria. That company creates concept and pre-production vehicles for global automakers.
Everrati’s latest creation is the Porsche 911 Signature Wide Body. With the hard-to-miss ducktail, it resembles a 1980s Porsche Turbo—but handles better. For a price that starts at £290,000 (US$360,467) customers get a car with 500 horsepower and 368.78 pound-feet of torque. The car has a 62-kilowatt-hour battery pack from LG Chem, yielding in this lightweight configuration approximately 200 miles of range. A single motor is connected to a limited-slip differential.
Also available is a Legacy model with 247 horsepower and 228.64 pound-feet. These cars look like earlier 911s (without the wide body and ducktail, for instance) and are built in a time-consuming restoration process. Given the work required, the price is the same as the Signature.

Everrati
Features on the Signature include electronically adjustable suspension, regenerative braking, a “Porsche inspired” five-gauge cluster, and DC fast-charging capability. Everrati is also offering a Signature Gulf Edition of the 911, painted in the iconic blue-and-orange livery of the Gulf racing team (as seen at Le Mans and other venues).
The first Everrati 911 to go to a U.S. customer this month is a Mexico Blue Signature model delivered to California resident Matt Rogers, who co-founded the smart thermostat company that eventually became Google Nest. Rogers said in a statement that his car “captures the zeitgeist perfectly, being sustainable and environmentally conscious while also keeping the character of [Porsche’s] air-cooled era.”
Justin Lunny, Everatti co-founder and CEO, tells Penta that the company “doesn’t ‘convert’ cars to electric; instead, we redefine them as electric vehicles, worrying about such factors as driving feel and weight distribution. We hire very-experienced EV engineers and use the highest level of electric components, such as batteries and motors you would see in EVs from OEM manufacturers such as Rimac or Lotus.”

Everrati
Lunny says that Everrati puts motor and batteries in the back, where Porsche located the engine and transmission on its 911s, with more batteries and power electronics up front, where the original gas tank resided.
U.K. customer cars will still make the trek to California. Lunny explains that right-hand-drive 911s are sourced in Britain and shipped to the U.S., where they’re stripped to the chassis and slowly built up with the new carbon-fibre panels. They then go back to the U.K. for finishing.
“EV is not the only answer, but we do believe it will become the predominate powertrain,” Lunny says.
The company concentrates on a few models, but it’s willing to entertain bespoke one-off commissions, such as an electric Lamborghini for a customer in the Middle East. Such projects require a huge engineering commitment, and the resulting vehicle isn’t by any means inexpensive, costing US$500,000 or more. But it will be fully developed as an EV.
Porsche, too, is mostly going electric, with plans to have EVs make up more than 80% of new car sales by 2030. In 2021, more than 40% of the cars delivered in Europe were at least partly electric, either plug-in hybrids or full EVs. The 911 has no plans for full electrification, though a hybrid version appears likely. Lunny himself drives a battery-powered Porsche Taycan.
Rugged coastal drives and fireside drams define a slow, indulgent journey through Scotland’s far north.
A haven for hedge-fund titans and Hollywood grandees, Greenwich is one of the world’s most expensive residential enclaves, where eye-watering prices meet unapologetic grandeur.
Their careers spanned the personal computing, internet and smartphone waves. But some older workers see AI’s arrival as the cue to exit.
Luke Michel has already lived through two technology overhauls in his career, first desktop publishing in the 1980s and online publishing later on. But AI? He’s had enough.
So when his employer, the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, made an early-retirement offer to some staff last year, the 68-year-old content strategist decided to speed up his exit. Before, he had expected to work a couple more years.
“The time and energy you have to devote to learning a whole new vocabulary and a whole new skill set, it wasn’t worth it,” he said.
It isn’t that he’s shunning artificial intelligence—he is learning Spanish with the help of Anthropic’s Claude. But, at this point, he’s less than eager to endure all the ways the technology promises to upend work.
“I just want to use it for my own purposes and not someone else’s,” he said.
After rising for decades and then hovering around 40% in the 2010s, the share of Americans over 55 years old in the workforce has slipped to 37.2%, the lowest level in more than 20 years.
The financial cushion of rising home equity and stock-market returns is driving some of the decline, economists and retirement advisers say.
But for some older professionals, money is only part of the equation.
They say they don’t want to spend the last years of their career going through the tumult of AI adoption, which has brought new tools, new expectations and a lot of uncertainty.
Many people retire when key elements of their work lives are disrupted at once, said Robert Laura , co-founder of the Retirement Coaches Association and an expert on the psychology of retirement.
“Maybe their autonomy is being challenged or changed, their friends are leaving the workplace, or they disagree with the company’s direction,” he said.
“When two or three of these things show up, that’s when people start to opt out.”
“AI is a big one,” he adds. “It disrupts their autonomy, their professionalism.”
Michel, whose work required overseeing and strategizing on website content, has been here before.
When desktop publishing arrived in the 1980s, he was a graphic designer using triangles and rubber cement.
The internet’s arrival changed everything again. Both developments required new skills, and he was energized by the challenge of learning alongside colleagues and peers.
It felt different this time around. “Your battery doesn’t hold a charge as long as it used to,” he said.
He would rather spend his energy volunteering, making art, going to operas and chairing the Council on Aging in North Andover, Mass., where he lives.
In an AARP survey last summer of 5,000 people 50 and over, 25% of those who planned to retire sooner than expected counted work stress and burnout as factors.
About half of those retired said they had left work at least partly because they had the financial security to do so.
In general, older Americans are less likely than younger counterparts to use AI, research shows.
About 30% of people from ages 30 to 49 said they used ChatGPT on the job, nearly double the share of those 50 and older, according to a 2025 Pew Research Center survey of more than 5,000 adults.
Baby boomers and members of Generation X also experienced the sharpest declines in confidence using AI technology, according to a ManpowerGroup survey of more than 13,900 workers in 19 countries.
“We as employers aren’t doing a good enough job saying (to older workers), we value the skills that you already have, so much so that we want to invest in you to help you do your job better,” says Becky Frankiewicz , ManpowerGroup’s chief strategy officer.
Jennifer Kerns’s misgivings about AI contributed to her departure last month from GitHub, where the 60-year-old worked as a program manager.
Coming from a family of artists, she said, it offends her that AI models train on the creative work of people who aren’t compensated for their intellectual property. And she worries about AI’s effect on people’s critical-thinking skills.
So she was dismayed when GitHub, a Microsoft-owned hosting service for software projects, began investing heavily in AI products and expecting employees to incorporate AI into much of their work. In employee-engagement surveys, the company had begun asking them to rate their AI usage on a scale of 1 to 5.
When it came time to write reports and reviews, colleagues would suggest that she use ChatGPT.
“I’d be like, ‘I have no idea how to use that and I have no interest in using AI to write anything for me,’” she said.
It would have been more prudent to work until she was closer to Medicare eligibility, she said. But by waiting until her children were out of college and some of her stock grants had vested, the math worked.
Her first act as a nonworking person: a solo trip to Scotland, where she took a darning workshop and learned how to repair sweaters.
“The opposite of AI,” she said.
Employers already under pressure to cut workers—such as in the tech industry—may welcome some of these retirements, said Gad Levanon , chief economist at Burning Glass Institute, which studies labor-market data.
“The more people retire, the fewer they have to let go,” he said.
Some of the savviest tech users are also balking at sticking around for the AI upheaval. Terry Grimm, who worked in IT for 40 years, retired from his senior software consultant role at 65 last May.
His firm had just been acquired by a bigger firm, which meant learning and integrating the parent company’s AI and other tech tools into his work.
Until then, Grimm expected he might work a couple more years, though he felt that he probably had enough saved to retire.
“I just got to the point where I was spending 40 hours at work and then 20 hours training and studying,” said Grimm, who has since moved with his wife from the Dallas area to a housing development on a golf course in El Dorado, Ark.
“I’m like, ‘I’ll let the younger guys do this.’”

