Preview: 2013 Bugatti Veyron 16.4 Grand Sport Vitesse
Alton, Ont. — How exactly does one test a car that can travel 408.84 kilometres in just a single hour? Indeed, what does four-hundred-and-eight-point-eight-four kilometres an hour even look like? Though we can all recognize that number as seriously scary (and, truthfully, no matter how indoctrinated we all get to the metric system, maximum-warp-factor-Mister-Sulu always sounds so much more impressive — 254.04 miles per hour! — in Imperial), gaining a true perspective of exactly how fast 408.84 km/h is does require some context.
So, it is worth noting then that no modern Formula One racer — nor even a MotoGP racing motorcycle, F1′s two-wheeled equivalent — has ever touched 400 km/h during a race. And if that many kilometres an hour still seems completely unfathomable, think of it in more concrete terms: 408.84 km/h translates into 113.6 metres — about 373 feet or approximately the distance between three telephone poles — travelled each and every second.
In more relevant terms — at least, more relevant to me, as I am about to test drive a beast capable of just such outrageous speeds — that is more than four times the legal speed limit in most provinces and almost two-and-a-half times what it would take to see the Julian Fantino-inspired Ontario Provincial Police charge me with “stunting” as well as impound my wheels, this last probably a little more problematic than the first since said hypercar costs about $2.5-million.
As long as you are on public roads — at least on any North American public road — it is impossible to righteously evaluate Bugatti’s latest road rocket, the Veyron 16.4 Grand Sport Vitesse, at anything remotely like its limits
In other words, as long as you are on public roads — at least on any North American public road — it is impossible to righteously evaluate Bugatti’s latest road rocket, the Veyron 16.4 Grand Sport Vitesse, at anything remotely like its limits.
Even a racetrack is no guarantee of maxing out the quadruple turbocharged Bugatti; one would probably have to go seek out specific facilities like the Volkswagen Group’s proving grounds in Ehra-Lessien or Italy’s gargantuan 12.5-kilometre Nardo banked oval to hope to have a chance to race the Vitesse at anything like its terminal velocity.
Even then, all manner of precautions would have to be enforced — a special key must be fitted, the entire car is lowered another 25 millimetres and the rear spoiler is fixed in its less stabilizing, but more aerodynamic, lowest position. You can also be darned sure that you’ll be closely supervised by an entire squadron of Bugatti minders if you intend to drive a Veyron anywhere near its absolute limit.
Indeed, said overzealous monitoring put a kibosh on my first attempt at driving a Bugatti. The company’s PR staff plunked the original Veyron (that one a hardtop rather than this ragtop Vitesse) at a downtown Toronto hotel and offered me a 45 minute stint through 4 p.m. rush hour traffic.
And, in as much as even a full week’s road test unencumbered by fellow motorists would still not allow me to test even a fraction of the Veyron’s capacities, calling crawling through Toronto’s rush hour traffic at 12 km/h an evaluation of a 1,200-horsepower vehicle seemed an exaggeration beyond the pale.
Call it integrity, stubbornness or just plain old stupid pig-headishness, Yours Truly became to the first person, by everyone’s account, to refuse an opportunity to drive the Veyron (and, yes, someone probably did volunteer to take my place and write a road test out of it).
So this is my first time behind the wheel of the legend. And, even for a jaded autojournalist fed a steady diet of Porsche GT3s and V10-powered Audi R8s (next week’s road test, by the way) it’s not without trepidation that one approaches one’s first ride in a Bugatti. Its engine may trace its roots to VW’s once-ubiquitous VR6 engine, but 16 cylinders, especially fed by four bigger-than-ever turbochargers, will not be denied.
Besides 1,200 horsepower, the Vitesse boasts a cruise-liner-like 1,106 pound-feet of torque (by way of comparison, the base Veyron boasts 1,001 horses and 921 torques). Again, for those looking for perspective, no Formula 1 car of the modern era can come close to matching the Bugatti for maximum steam, current 2.4-litre V8s pumping out about 800 horsepower (for anything close to 1,200-hp one has to go all the way back to F1′s stupidly steroidal 1.5-litre turbocharged BMWs).
Bolt in a seven-speed dual-clutch transmission, the tractive abilities of four-driven wheels and sophisticated Launch Control electronics and you have the makings of a 2.6 second sprint (again cue comparisons with F1 racers) to 100 kilometres an hour.
Which I do my best to emulate. I may not be willing to lose my license but no one says that I can’t jet up to the speed limit with alacrity. My first dance with the loud pedal, however, leaves me just a little nonplussed. Yes, the 16.4 feels like a rocketship but so do so many supercars.
Indeed, on my first trip through the gears, there was no sensation that I could not emulate in the comparatively pedestrian V10-powered R8 I rode up in. Yes, the Audi weighs a lot less than the Bugatti’s 1,990 kilogram curb weight, but somehow the acceleration just wasn’t as overwhelming as it expected to be.
Then, Butch Leitzinger, Bugatti’s official driver and a former ALMS driver, pulls into a Petro-Canada station and we fill up with Ultra 94 (it seems our tester came from California where high-octane is hard to come by). Presto! Change-O! Our 16.4 goes from a plain old ordinary 850 horsepower supercar to a 1,200-hp Hollywood special effect.
One second you’re a standstill, the next you’re trying to desperately trying to keep the beast under 150 km/h so the local constabulary doesn’t poach your 1,868,400 Euros (including taxes and delivery) ride. Everything in between is a Millennium Falcon blur, mainly because one becomes so focused on the road immediately ahead that anything not directly in front is dismissed as periphery.
The most amazing thing, however, isn’t the outright turn of speed but the complete lack of theatrics that it engenders. Typical hypercar performance is usually accompanied by all manner of drama, the steering wheel to-ing and fro-ing viciously in your hands, the tires, no matter how sticky, fighting for precious traction and the scream of an engine that threatens to burst.
In contrast, the Veyron is completely calm. Oh to be sure, the front of the car rises up like a cigarette boat riding a bow wave, but somehow the big Bugatti harnesses those more than 1,100 pound-feet of torque without even the slightest wag of the wheel or screech of tire. If it were not for the air rushing by and the din of the big W16, there would actually not be enough drama.
But, ah that engine. Push the console mounted starter button and all 16 pistons — arranged in their unique “W” format — bark to life. Blip the throttle and the Vitesse’s more open exhaust (compared with the standard Veyron) emits a growl that would even scare the aforementioned “Plus” edition of the V10 R8.
Mat it and the twin intakes howl as if trying to suck in the earth’s entire atmosphere (James May, of Top Gear fame, estimated that his Veyron was consuming 45,000 litres of air every minute it spent at top speed). The din is that much more immediate in the rag-top Vitesse because the Veyron’s completely uncovered engine (not even a plexiglass cover separates the big W16 from the open atmosphere) is right behind your ears, every tick of its 16 fuel injectors, every screech from its turbochargers apparent immediately behind your ears.
But the best part of the Bugatti’s soundtrack only occurs after you’ve let off the gas. Then the turbochargers’ wastegates, eager to bleed off 20+ psi of boost, pop open and unwanted intake blows off steam. It’s a sound like nothing else in automobiles; it’s not hard to imagine the high-pressure huff as the big Bugatti’s 16 pistons collectively breathing a sigh of relief at not having to endure any more abuse from those four turbochargers. Like a 4/4 backbeat you just can’t get out of your head, it’s addictive. You end up matting the throttle just to hear the backwash when you back off.
The only problem, of course, is that if you do so for any more than two seconds, there’s you back in paragraph two, smiling for the mug shot and hoping that the OPP will be sensitive to your car in lockup. And take my word for it, claiming “I was just testing it for a newspaper article” is not going to get you out of a 408.84 km/h speeding ticket.
