The McLaren forces restraint because there is no way to drive it legally-except on an autobahn or a racetrack-and even begin to probe the full extent of its power and speed. I'm alone at last, able to contemplate the enormity of a car so swift that it demands an utterly different mental approach. The tach needle jerks savagely around the gauge, as if directly connected to the crankshaft. The induction bellow is almost ephemeral it can be timed so accurately. This engine responds so instantly it feels as if it doesn't have a flywheel, like a racing engine. The exhaust note might be subdued, but caress the throttle and the revs soar. Even as the BMW V-12 idled evenly at 900 rpm, I could sense its invincibility. Less than 30 seconds earlier, I'd waited back up the road for an all-clear signal. I press hard, through the pedal's inert feel before they bite to blunt forward movement. My courage runs out, the surĀvival instinct takes over. Maybe there's space before the corner to grab sixth at 180 mph. The car-squat, stable, a green limpet on the road-shoots forward. Still no lessening of acceleration thrust. Just 5.4 seconds later, a green up-shift light flashes, appropriately positioned at the 7500-rpm redline on the tach in the center of the instruments. As the speedo needle hits 125 mph, an instant shift-so precise and mechanical it's like pulling back a well-oiled bolt on a rifle-brings fourth gear and another disorienting burst of power that thrusts me forcefully back into the tight-fitting bucket seat. Instantly, the sound of rushing air is shattered by a sharp bark from the engine as the $815,000 McLaren is propelled down the blacktop, accelerating at a rate I've never before experienced. When the four-point touchdown comes, it is so velvety that the suspenĀsion feels as though it might have been designed for landings. It Took McLaren 18 Months to Restore this F1 GTR.
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