Driving the McLaren 650S supercar to the edge and back

There was an eerie silence. In retrospect it was far from silent, but at the time, it was like the world had ceased to spin. What was a mere fraction of a second felt like an eternity. It’s funny how time dawdles during moments of great peril. Or rather your mind shifts into warp speed in response to the impending situation.

With a flick to the left, then back to the right, I brought the tank-slapping, near $300,000 McLaren 650S back under control. I was left wondering – Can you ever have too much power? In the lashing rain of southern Spain, the answer was clear: Yes you can.

It's a common consensus that back in 1992 McLaren produced the finest production car of all-time. And when the F1 required a successor this past year, many titled the new McLaren P1 as even better.

At $1.15 million, the P1 sits way atop of the $240,000 12C, and McLaren has promised to fill the blanks with a new model every year. For 2014, it’s the arrival of the 650S – dubbed a more powerful, engaging and expensive version of the 12C. But it’s not a stripped-down racer like the Ferrari 458 Speciale. In fact, McLaren says it’s achieved a wider range of performance, both in terms of everyday usability and ultimate speed.

But here’s the puzzler: The 650S’s greatest rival is not an Italian marque, rather it's McLaren’s own 12C. While the new model is indeed more expensive, between the Coupe and Spider, the gain is only 10 percent – or around $25,000. Those buying a car worth a quarter of a million dollars probably won’t notice the difference. Which begs the question: Why isn’t this the 2015 McLaren 12C?

It features the same carbon-fiber chassis; the same 3.8-liter twin turbo V-8; the same innovative hydraulically interconnected dampers, and the same 12C looks – bar the P1-inspired front fascia. Sure, it now boasts 641 hp instead of 616; 500 lb.-ft. of torque rather than 443; hits 62 mph in 3.0 seconds, and comes with more options as standard. But the handling package is tweaked, not revolutionized. In my book, this makes the 12C obsolete.

Only it doesn’t.

In certain regions of Southeast Asia, import tax can be as high as 100-percent. That drives price gaps between the 12C and 650S up substantially. And in this scenario, why would you spend the extra cash when the 12C is almost as capable?

On a mountain pass slithering skywards towards the Ascari racetrack outside of Malaga, which at that moment sat within a cloud so dense I could see no further than 10 feet in front, I feared I’d never untangle these puzzling scenarios. The south of Spain sees little rain; the day before my arrival it was 75 degrees and sunny. What can you possibly learn about a supercar in the wet, specifically when you’re running in a cloud?

There were, however, a few findings that became evident: Despite being dubbed as more exciting to drive, the 650S rides as well as the 12C. Pottering along at 20 mph for almost an hour was like cruising in a BMW 5-Series. You’re sat within a cocoon of carbon-fiber and lush Alcantara; the car floats over bumps with ease, and yet the most minute of throttle stabs – combined with Pirelli’s slick P Zero Corsas – initiates a response as brutal as a slap to the back of the head with a cricket bat.

And so. Back to the silence we go.

You don’t consciously think, you just react. You curse the traction control for ignoring your hefty foot. Peripherally, you notice other drivers wearing a subtle grin that says, “Ha, you idiot.” You hear your ride-partner squeal like he did for Jeff Gordon.

And then it’s over.

Back into seventh gear you go. You curse some more – this time about Spain, Italian tire makers, Mother Nature and your lack of restraint. And then something unexpected occurs.

I arrived at the Ascari racetrack only to find the surface dry, as if a hand from above had been playing a cruel joke, providing me a brief window of perfection by way of redemption.

There, the traction returned. The torque is apparent compared to the 12C, but not to the degree that it requires mental recalibration. The suspension setup has been stiffened by roughly 30-percent, and the steering feels quicker. It’s not as heavy as I’d have liked, but it provides a clearer sensation through the front wheels. The change of direction is sharper, the grip should be improved thanks to a 40 percent increase in downforce at 150 mph (how many turns do you know where you can corner at 150 mph?) but it's difficult to truly decipher without back-to-back testing. Additionally, arriving with carbon-ceramics as standard, the ABS kicks in later under braking – curing an issue that bothered me in the 12C.

In the 650S, the active aerodynamics are more intuitive, taking cues from the P1 to flatten the rear wing in a straight line, while deploying the airbrake only when needed, not every time you touch the brake. The reworked stability and traction control? Well, let’s just say they’re there. Only like on the soaked mountain road, they don’t show their face all that often.

I drove both the Coupe and Spider during my trip, and because of the carbon tub, no loss of rigidity occurs between the two. This makes the Spider the obvious choice, just as it is with the 12C.

When you drive a McLaren, you sense its Formula One pedigree. The technology involved in making the car usable on the streets and yet a killer on the track is astounding, and no other manufacturer can offer the same breadth of capability. However I didn’t sense the promised increase in engagement when compared to the 12C. It felt like a 12C Plus – and again, I wondered why it wasn’t.

Even McLaren doesn’t have the answer: “We’re seeing how sales unfold,” I was told. “Then we’ll decide what to do.”

Regardless, the 650S, like the 12C, is breathtaking. It may be characterized as "easy" to drive fast, but at full bore, none of its rivals can keep pace. Back when the 12C first debuted, some described it as sterile, or boring. In both cases they were wrong. And the 650S is even less of those things; don't confuse technological achievement for being soulless. It simply makes you faster. And to extract that last ounce of performance, it requires a more skilled driver.

In the 650S, speed and handling is taken to a new realm at this price point. However, in locations where import taxes rule, I’m not sure there is enough separation to warrant buying a 650S over the 12C. However, in the same breath, on U.S. shores, you'd be silly to purchase a 12C when for a few dollars more you could buy something faster and better looking.

And so lies the conundrum. McLaren is hoping to attract a more hardcore buyer for the 650S, while aiming to sell the 12C off the back of its relative practicality. However the 650S isn’t notably more hardcore and it’s just as practical. It’ll get you around a track a couple of seconds faster than a 12C, but it does so with little change in character. Whether the 12C and 650S can sell in harmony remains to be seen (one logically assumes that they won't, meaning the 650S will simply be the new 12C – which I'm perfectly fine with).

The Spanish downpour may have hampered my testing, but I came away sure of two things: McLaren can call itself the leader in creating usable supercars that stun. And if you live in Seattle, may I suggest a Unimog.

 

(Full disclosure: McLaren provided flights, hotel costs, meals, and possibly the British weather)