It all fell into place on the 36 miles between Newtonmore and Spean Bridge. It was here, early one sunny morning on this quiet, flowing road through the Scottish Highlands, that the mclaren gt suddenly made sense.
I never hit more than 80 mph at any point during those 36 miles, but as I cruised into Spean Bridge and took the right-hand turn to Kyle of Lochalsh and the Isle of Skye, I was grinning from ear to ear. The mid-range punch from the 612-hp twin-turbo V-8 and the lightning-quick response of the dual-clutch eight-speed transmission had enabled the McLaren to effortlessly dispatch the handful of slower cars on the short straights. It had scarcely noticed the corners.
The pace—constant, relentless, yet elegantly graceful—had come with minimal effort, my fingers caressing the steering wheel and tickling the shift paddles, my toes brushing the brakes and squeezing the accelerator. After years of driving heavy and powerful SUVs, I had been reminded of the virtues of lightweight, delicate steering, and a low center of gravity.
In an era of 200-mph luxury sedans, 600-hp SUVs, and $70,000 pickup trucks, the mclaren gt is by virtue of its form typecast as a supercar, as vaingloriously performative as a Lamborghini Aventador. At the same time, it’s regarded as a conspicuously compromised supercar, softer and looser than a 720S to make it drive more like a gran turismo while lacking the gilded interior and usable luggage capacity most expect in today’s GTs. For the full story, check out this article from Motor Trend.