When the rumors first flashed that Porsche's new Boxster and Cayman would be powered by a four-cylinder turbocharged engine, I confess it set off something short of a panic — I wasn't planning for my next Cayman until well after these would ship.

I had just traded my 2009 Cayman last summer for a 2016 Macan S with the intention of procuring another Cayman in some advanced form — perhaps a GTS or even the GT4 — so I was not originally happy to hear this report.

The original Cayman design was delectably splendid. The engine receptive to every input, it sang its own musical genre. It was smooth, responsive and deceptively quick. I was even pleasantly impressed by the subtle design changes on the most recent generation. But the motor? Why would you mess with that?

I will admit the older I get, the more self-conscious I am of aging — more specifically, my stick-in-the-mudness. Adopting this quality at some indeterminate point in my life, I have been looking in the mirror lately and seeing my father.

Growing up in the '60s and '70s in a modest Northeast suburban town, I can easily name the song and artist of any tune from that era by listening to the first few bars, and identify the makes and models of every vehicle by their taillights. But today's music and cars generally elude me.

I think there was a day (perhaps in my mid-20s) that I reached the limited storage capacity of my brain. And from that moment on, I had to purposefully decide what information was worth keeping and what I should pitch, or I'd lose all of it.

Ironically though, I've made exceptions for technological advancements, particularly in automotive applications. For example, though I have been choosing my own gears since the day I received my learners permit, I've also accepted Porsche's PDK gearbox as their transmission of the future.

But my favorite builder of fine engineering from Stuttgart has now confirmed the Boxster and Cayman will lose their astonishingly perfect flat-six power plant in favor of a turbocharged four-banger.

I've accepted that change occurs with or without my permission, and 2017 will bring us the new four-cylinder 718 Boxster and 718 Cayman complemented with forced induction — whether I like it or not. Porsche has clearly embraced turbocharging with enthusiasm.

The German marque is of course not new to this technology. The flagship 911 has employed turbos for decades, and my new Macan S sports a pair of them. But both models use six pistons to generate power, which makes it somehow more palatable.

The 718s will employ a 2.0- or 2.5-liter four-cylinder power plant, generating a substantial 300 and 340 horsepower respectively. And when Porsche releases a GTS version (because they must), you can expect it to assert even more authority.

In full disclosure, I am not unfamiliar with turbocharged engines, having previously owned a 2008 and a 2011 Acura RDX (with four-cylinder turbocharged power plants no less). So moving up to the astonishing Macan S was an easy transition for me.

But this brings me back to my internal struggle. Having lived through the age of American muscle from Detroit, getting more horsepower to the rear bias plies was never more than wedging additional cubic inches into the engine bay.

Today's engineering requires so much more than simply cranking up the juice, especially when it comes to sports cars. Efficiency, response and economy are essential ingredients to meet pollution standards as well as the performance expectations of consumers.

Porsche's movement toward turbocharging (especially when mated to anything less than six cylinders) has generated some controversial discussions in my circle of PCA friends. Many others it turns out are consumed with retaining the traditional Porsche flat six.

At an event several weeks ago, I listened intently to a friend pontificate on the ruin of the Porsche brand — an alienation of their customer base caused exclusively by abandoning the engine architecture that was an institutional tradition. This posture seemed extreme, even to me.

He was conveniently the proud owner of a new 2015 Cayman, and the thought of a turbocharged four made him physically nauseous. The idea that this was a deliberate and calculated strategy curdled his blood.

Oddly, he was OK with the 911 Turbo, so I guessed the basis of his grievance was the four cylinders it was bolted to. I was correct. This is not the first time Porsche has turbocharged a four-cylinder motor, but it's admittedly been a while.

Of all people, I appreciate this anxiety. So I asked him if the 718 Boxster and 718 Cayman were faster and performed better than his current Cayman. He knew where I was going with this line of questioning, and he took the stance of a cornered ally cat in defense.

How can he deny (I reasoned for the benefit of both of us) that virtually every reintroduction from Porsche outperforms the previous version? And most are even more efficient and economical at the same time. Why then the vehement response?

Although I have to sympathize with his frustration, the reality is Porsche is paving their future with motors re-engineered for efficiency and performance — which means a transformation in engine design and approach.

I too am a bit anxious, but past experience tells me I should be patient and wait for Porsche to release the 718 before drawing on a biased opinion. As turbocharging becomes more and more prevalent, I might just accept the transition the same way I did with the adoption of PDK.

Sure there are those who will forever look at anything other than manual gear selection as blasphemous for any sports car. Now they can add turbocharged four-cylinder engines to their list. These debates will undoubtedly continue as they have for years.

Turbocharging will begin to dominate the sports car landscape, led in many respects by the aforementioned manufacturer. So in the words of the great Winston Churchill, "To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often."

Porsche has certainly obliged.