McLaren F1 is still the definition of the perfect supercar

Your blood coagulates at the sight of the thing. Nobody mentions that. Long before you unlocked the McLaren F1’s V-shaped door, before you sat in the central driver’s seat, before the fearful V-12 fire comes to life and the suction scoop sucks acres of atmosphere over your head. Before that there is just this thought: Don’t fuck.

Because apart from everything else, this McLaren F1 is worth $ 20,000,000. There is no way around this wall of zeros. Mountains of insurance waivers could not silence the consequences of the generational change. If you have an accident with this car, your grandchildren’s children will die in poverty on the ground.

This is an excerpt from our recent article, “The Quest for the Greatest Sports Car of All Time,” where we rounded up eight of the most important enthusiast cars of all time, tested them on the racetrack at Lime Rock Park, and declared an ultimate winner. Have fun with this chapter on the McLaren F1, but be sure to read the entire eight-part story.

Of course, F1 has always been sacrosanct, a sacred relic on its own level of fame. It sprang from designer Gordon Murray’s welder in 1992, accompanied by facts that sounded like hyperbole: 240.1 mph top speed, 627 horses, exotic carbon fiber construction, a price tag of $ 815,000. Even as a student of optimism in the early nineties, I understood that The One was out of reach, no matter how gracious life unfolded.

The F1’s central driver’s seat frames the road like you’ve never seen it before. When you look over the low fenders and through the surrounding glass, your feet just behind the front axle, you understand: This car is something special.

Syd Cummings

The McLaren F1 legend only grew, polished by the 1995 Le Mans win, with glowing reviews in buff books and the feeling that a zenith had been reached. So this super sports car became more precious, more valuable, until it was inviolable. The last time I stayed near one, a thin-lipped Parisian almost chased me out of the Musée d’Orsay. This McLaren F1 was cordoned off with velvet ropes and placed on a literal pedestal. This is how most of us meet this hero.

But not today. Forget about velvet ropes. The key was in my hand, ready to fire a V-12 bullet with 30 years of anticipation.

So the $ 20 million question: what’s it like driving the McLaren F1? Breathtaking. Ingenious in the purest sense. You push a hidden button and the starter hums. The 6.1-liter V-12 comes to life and sings a thin, breathy exhaust note. The engine feels restless, never idling, but crunches, crunches, tugs at the end of its line.

The McLaren F1 is the largest supercar ever built.

You tap the gas pedal and turn on the BMW engine. It reacts immediately and climbs into a metallic bass in the middle of the tachometer. Forget about every low inertia drivetrain you’ve ever flogged. The circulating mass of this engine itself consists of air, so quickly the speedometer needle sprints towards the redline and back.

I crawled the car away from the pits towards Big Bend, Lime Rock’s first corner, slowly moving the gear stick from second to third and fourth, and stared at the alien cockpit. The center seat of the F1 distorts your perspective of the outside world. Your body appears to be stretching along with the chassis, which enhances the F1 experience. You have never sat almost prone in a cabin or seen both fenders at the same distance from your helmet visor, framing the road like a telescopic sight.

The steering feels great even at low speeds, is tight as a bowstring, and surprisingly light for an unassisted rack. The F1’s chassis seems to follow your eyes as the front tires shoot to every corner of the tip, guided by tiny steering pulses. How the hell did they keep that thing up at 240? The gear lever moves in wide gears over a direct, precise path. Shifting between second and third gear takes practice to stay correct, just taking a breath between the gates to make sure third place locks into place.

Everyone should be able to drool over the details of the McLaren F1 – the gold-clad engine bay, the carbon-clad interior, or the intricacies of its wild exhaust.

DW Burnett

I crossed the back half of Lime Rock, rolled through the last corner of the track, then aimed F1 at the Sam Posey Straight and hit the accelerator. Ladies and gentlemen, we have let go of hell. From that point on, my memories become blurred. I remember the noise of the recording that overwhelmed the V-12’s reputation, wind noise wrestling over the F1’s nose, and that weird light feeling your bar gets between the high dive and the deep end. All of that, but mostly only lightning bolts at full speed.

Full throttle in a McLaren F1 blurs your periphery. The feeling of speed is visceral, immediate and leaves no bandwidth for thoughts except hang on. The McLaren requires absolute and total concentration, because when you step on the accelerator, the horizon hits you on the chest.

This is not an exaggeration. Even in 2020, F1 feels legitimately fast for a supercar. When you think of the technology Gordon Murray and his team used to put the car together in the early 1990s, with primitive tires, no turbochargers, zero thrust from electric motors, and rudimentary carbon construction, the F1’s longevity becomes staggering.

1995 MCLAREN F1

ENGINE:
6.1 liter V-12

OUTPUT:
627 hp / 479 lb-ft

TRANSMISSION:
Six-speed manual transmission

WEIGHT:
2579 lb

PRICE WHEN NEW:
$ 815,000

For three laps I leaned as far into the car as I dared. The unsupported brakes require a lot of force and slow the F1’s speed more slowly than expected. When it showed immediately, I aimed the McLaren and welded the throttle open. The shift from the third to the fourth is engraved in my brain stem. Revs drop like lead between gears. You almost can’t flip the gear stick fast enough to keep the engine boiling. After a few tries it clicks. Driving the F1 demands the fastest shifting you can do; it revels in brutality. In that moment, you understand how this car rolled off the city streets onto Mulsanne Straight.

Back in the box, a moment to exhale. And time to think. The editors went out, rolled over and returned with beaming, shocked faces.

“I couldn’t crawl out of the myth,” said contributor John Krewson. “It’s hard to emphasize how important each input is, how important everything you do is, and how that gets your attention.”

“And it’s worth it, but also … it’s not much fun. There’s a lot of awe, ”added senior editor Zach Bowman.

Awe is the right word. Aside from driving the McLaren F1, there is so much awe to be discovered. The Revs Institute kindly loaned us the F1 for two days, just enough time to think about every intricacy of the car. The car was looked after by Kevin Hines, Senior Technician at McLaren Philadelphia and North America’s F1 Whisperer, who maintains and maintains these special vehicles.

Hines showed us the F1 through his unique lens (sometimes he spends a year and a half rebuilding a single F1). You don’t understand how special every inch of this car is until Hines shows you. My favorite: the microscopic screws on the switch console cover. Hines was forced to specially order a snap-on hex wrench because he couldn’t find one that was small enough to loosen those screws. McLaren had found the easiest way to add a tiny trim. Now extrapolate that philosophy to every inch of the car.

DW Burnett

F1 needs more stewards like Kevin Hines and the Revs Institute willing to allow this living, breathing masterpiece to stretch its troubled legs. With every detail observed, the McLaren F1 reveals itself to be more than just a supercar; it is a vessel for human ambition at the highest level. The term “Moonshot” gets thrown around a lot, but spend enough time with this car and the idea sounds true. This object was possessed of every facet, conceived as the platonic ideal of the supercar, without the interference of lower thoughts.

“It made one thing clear to me: Our understanding of wealth has changed,” noted Assistant Editor Bob Sorokanich. “In 1994, buying the best new car in the world meant buying the fastest, most powerful, cleanest and most communicative car. Today you would buy something powerful, eye-catching, and absolutely alive. Something that hides all the dirty work. “

That made me think of the descendants of F1, pebble slabs of threat that look like they are quietly throwing a wide safety net. I managed to oversteer in fourth gear in a twin-turbo Ferrari; I buried the throttle on a McLaren Senna until my nerves crumbled; I watched the Tacho Crest 180 of a V-10 Lamborghini as the runway shrank in front of me. None of that prepared me for the ruthless F1.

“The F1 is everything we expect from a supercar that needs fewer nannies. It’s a knife, ”said Bowman. “You either know how to use this tool or you will get injured.”

“That was amazing and impressive and unique and trending and I never want to go through that again,” summarized Krewson. And that’s the stakes with a $ 20 million, 240 mph legend.

As I pulled out of the cockpit of F1, a confusing cocktail of sensory overload and relief grabbed me. After this encounter I was never so sure: The McLaren F1
is the largest supercar ever built. In addition, I believe that it is the greatest thing that will ever be built. It is perhaps the greatest thing that can ever be built.

Closing the V-shaped door of the F1 reminded me of every large mountain peak I have climbed. There is a trembling mix of exhilaration and fear when only your own hands and skills stand between you and ruin. When you get away you are humble that the mountain allowed you to return home unscathed. But above all, one is grateful for the brief, dazzling view from above.

To find out which car won our “Quest for the Greatest Sports Car of All Time”, click here.