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2008 Bugatti 16.4 Veyron
Got an extra $1.4 million? Splurge it on this luxurious road rocket.
The sight put an instant grin on my face. There, whooping down Wilshire Boulevard in Beverly Hills, came one of a handful of Bugatti Veyrons in this time zone: two-toned, trimmed in silver and blue, and moving with that tightly coiled posture that’s as identifiable as a Rolls-Royce’s regally upright style or a Jaguar’s prowling slink.
Actually, it could be heard a lot sooner than seen. Even at slow speeds, there’s so much air pumping through a Veyron – either ingested by its massive quad turbo 16-cylinder engine or filtering through the numerous radiators needed to prevent its self-immolation – that the Bugatti sounds like an executive jet among go-karts.
The sight of it isn’t what had me smiling, though.
Frankly, I’ve driven Veyrons before – two of them. And not to sound jaded, but even this – the most blisteringly fast, staggeringly expensive and plain-crazy supercar likely ever to be built – gets no more than a knowing nod out of me. The smile was due to the car’s effect on everybody else in this little Beverly Hills scene. Walkers along both sidewalks slowed. Bentleys and Bimmers seemed knocked off their stride. And since it was Beverly Hills, the nearby Ferraris – there’s always at least one within visual range (city ordinance, I think) – appeared flustered. If aluminum egg-crate grills could frown and chrome-plated prancing horse heads droop, theirs did. They recognize an alpha dog when they see one.
The surprising aspect to all that is the $1.4 million 1,001-horsepower, 900-pound gorilla of supercars is a product of the Volkswagen conglomerate (which is now controlled by the Porsche empire). In the last issue, I poked a little fun at VW’s hubris for trying to challenge Mercedes-Benz and BMW with its excellent but cache-less Phaeton. Yet with the Veyron, Wolfsburg sensibly didn’t make the mistake of hanging a Beetle-recalling VW badge around its neck.
The Veyron’s inverted horseshoe grill, along with the Bugatti name itself, hark back to France’s almost mythical pre-World War II sports-car builder, Ettore Bugatti. Monsieur Bugatti, as much artist as car builder (his brother was a respected animal sculptor – named Rembrandt, no less), was arrogant (telling customers whose cars were hard to start on cold mornings to keep them in heated garages), as well as a genius. Before Sinatra there was Crosby, and before Ferrari there was Bugatti.
And Volkswagen has reconjured the flame in an impressive manner. Each Veyron is constructed at a glacial pace at the same French compound where the original cars were built, and Volkswagen even restored Ettore’s collapsing chateau to pristine condition. Classy stuff for a car company.
What’s successful about the Veyron, though, is it’s a whole lot more than a convincing continuation of an ancient marquee. For one thing, it’s blindingly fast. So fast, in fact, that a team of head-scratching aerodynamicists were required to figure out how to keep it on the ground. Its peak velocity, 253 mph, is about twice the takeoff speed of a 747. And from a stop, its combination of that four-figure horsepower number, a seven-speed DSG transmission (specifically built for it by the legendary technical gurus at Recardo in England), all-wheel drive and tires the size of 55-gallon drums, spits the Veyron to 60 mph in fewer than three Mississippis. The Veyron isn’t so much a rocket as a multi-stage delivery system. At 100 mph, it’s just clearing its throat before sparking the afterburners.
Not that anyone in his right mind would drive in such an irresponsible manner, of course. But the capability is there. Pedestrians sense it – other supercars can know it. And if old Ettore had been with me on Wilshire the other day, he wouldn’t have been smiling. He would have been ecstatic.
Kim Reynolds is technical editor of Motor Trend magazine.
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Actually, it could be heard a lot sooner than seen. Even at slow speeds, there’s so much air pumping through a Veyron – either ingested by its massive quad turbo 16-cylinder engine or filtering through the numerous radiators needed to prevent its self-immolation – that the Bugatti sounds like an executive jet among go-karts. The sight of it isn’t what had me smiling, though. Frankly, I’ve driven Veyrons before – two of them. And not to sound jaded, but even this – the most blisteringly fast, staggeringly expensive and plain-crazy supercar likely ever to be built – gets no more than a knowing nod out of me. The smile was due to the car’s effect on everybody else in this little Beverly Hills scene. Walkers along both sidewalks slowed. Bentleys and Bimmers seemed knocked off their stride. And since it was Beverly Hills, the nearby Ferraris – there’s always at least one within visual range (city ordinance, I think) – appeared flustered. If aluminum egg-crate grills could frown and chrome-plated prancing horse heads droop, theirs did. They recognize an alpha dog when they see one. The surprising aspect to all that is the $1.4 million 1,001-horsepower, 900-pound gorilla of supercars is a product of the Volkswagen conglomerate (which is now controlled by the Porsche empire). In the last issue, I poked a little fun at VW’s hubris for trying to challenge Mercedes-Benz and BMW with its excellent but cache-less Phaeton. Yet with the Veyron, Wolfsburg sensibly didn’t make the mistake of hanging a Beetle-recalling VW badge around its neck. The Veyron’s inverted horseshoe grill, along with the Bugatti name itself, hark back to France’s almost mythical pre-World War II sports-car builder, Ettore Bugatti. Monsieur Bugatti, as much artist as car builder (his brother was a respected animal sculptor – named Rembrandt, no less), was arrogant (telling customers whose cars were hard to start on cold mornings to keep them in heated garages), as well as a genius. Before Sinatra there was Crosby, and before Ferrari there was Bugatti. And Volkswagen has reconjured the flame in an impressive manner. Each Veyron is constructed at a glacial pace at the same French compound where the original cars were built, and Volkswagen even restored Ettore’s collapsing chateau to pristine condition. Classy stuff for a car company. What’s successful about the Veyron, though, is it’s a whole lot more than a convincing continuation of an ancient marquee. For one thing, it’s blindingly fast. So fast, in fact, that a team of head-scratching aerodynamicists were required to figure out how to keep it on the ground. Its peak velocity, 253 mph, is about twice the takeoff speed of a 747. And from a stop, its combination of that four-figure horsepower number, a seven-speed DSG transmission (specifically built for it by the legendary technical gurus at Recardo in England), all-wheel drive and tires the size of 55-gallon drums, spits the Veyron to 60 mph in fewer than three Mississippis. The Veyron isn’t so much a rocket as a multi-stage delivery system. At 100 mph, it’s just clearing its throat before sparking the afterburners. Not that anyone in his right mind would drive in such an irresponsible manner, of course. But the capability is there. Pedestrians sense it – other supercars can know it. And if old Ettore had been with me on Wilshire the other day, he wouldn’t have been smiling. He would have been ecstatic. Kim Reynolds is technical editor of Motor Trend magazine. |
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