Car September 2015.pdf

‘I remember
when all this
was gearlevers’
– Brundle meets
the future
End fences help
scoop air from the
wheel wells. Pirelli
rubber helps you
avoid crashing
THE SHAPE BURSTS into
view and turns towards
me, evil little lights ethereal
and distorted in the haze
of the hot tarmac between
us. Behind it the air’s a
maelstrom of heat, diffuser-flung
spray and, I swear,
air left visibly broken by
the yellow McLaren’s
demanding aero. There’s
a noise building too, a
curious hybrid – apt – of
deep V8 thunder and
otherworldly jet turbine
whine. Then everything
drops into slow motion. With one clean input and an instantaneous
response the P1 GTR switches direction. Physics is
overruled before it can lodge an objection. Despite scarcely
imaginable mechanical grip the car drifts into a textbook
cornering attitude, its broad, alien haunches set wide in
a couple of degrees of yaw. Then more noise and it’s gone,
blasted from view by a slug of acceleration so prodigious the
video cameraman next to me freely admits he completely
failed to keep the car in frame.
That’s the problem with the P1 GTR – it’s a very difficult
car to grasp, to make real, to capture in any tangible way.
You could dismiss the McLaren as a £1.98-million, 986bhp,
1345kg track-only irrelevance, but it’s also the bleeding edge
of performance car development. The enormous premium
over the P1 yields greater rarity (49 units versus 375 P1s), another
83bhp, a 10% increase in downforce, 50kg less weight
and sufficient grip, courtesy of an evolved chassis, to generate
peak cornering forces 20% higher than those of the P1.
All of which is either a graphic demonstration of the law of
diminishing returns or, given the astonishing capabilities
of the P1, a towering testament to the MTC’s speed-yielding
prowess. But what does the GTR feel like, and how does it
make you feel? Deadly serious instrument of
laptime or, as the numbers promise, quite simply
the most fun you can have in a British-built
car, clothes on or off?
Stinking hot, wheel-less as wets become
slicks and silent as checks are made, the GTR is
at rest. Inside and perhaps eight laps into his relationship
with the McLaren, Martin Brundle
sounds happy.
‘It’s sensational through that direction
change, even on overheating wets,’ he gushes.
‘You can really attack. The overriding first
impressions are of a completely sorted car. Just
driving from the paddock to the pits in E-mode everything
works. You get the same feeling out on the track. The
driving position’s fantastic, you can see out – you can’t put
a high enough premium on that – and it feels sorted, like a
production Mercedes that’s done a million development
miles. All your conscious and subconscious barriers to
pushing the car hard get a tick in the box, leaving you free to
get on with driving it. Some people might call that a lack of
character but I don’t agree. On the track you’re not there to
work around a car’s foibles or its lack of development.’
What of the P1’s near-1000bhp powerplant? Impressive,
even when you’ve driven F1 cars and Group C Jaguars? ‘It
just gets up and goes. It hooks up and then… warp speed,’
says Brundle, no small hint of awe in his voice. ‘So much
power, so much torque – you do have to be careful. Down
the back straight it’s quite bumpy and I can feel it breaking
traction now and then, even at 170mph. But the delivery is
as linear as I expected. It’s just this mighty shove, with a
sound going on behind you. It doesn’t make an angry noise
like a race car. That’s the only thing missing
for me, that crescendo you build to with a
normally aspirated engine, where you can
feel the torque curve; feel where the power’s
at its best and where it starts to drop off. You
don’t connect with this engine in the same
way. Instead it’s through the palms of your
hands, your backside and your right foot.
I’m looking forward to getting out on slicks.’
With fierce, almost tropical sunshine
baking this morning’s damp tarmac dry,
McLaren technicians switch the GTR’s
very secondhand-looking wets (‘The
car very quickly overwhelmed its wets
when the track dried, and started sliding
nicely…’) for fresh slicks. There’s a telltale
tightening of the belts too, and Brundle
makes some changes on the steering wheel,
switching out of Boost mode (which pegs
118 CARMAGAZINE.CO.UK | September 2015