► The ultimate hypercar grudge match
► McLaren P1 meets LaFerrari
► CAR’s exclusive first twin test from 2014
Finally then, two warring dynasties meet. On the hills above Maranello, for the first time ever, the world’s two greatest hypercars go head-to-head
This pair cost a million quid each, give or take the odd 911 Turbo, and even if you can afford one, you can’t have it. They’re all sold, all 499 LaFerraris and 375 McLaren P1s, to a wealthy few who have collectively spent £825m in the pursuit of automotive nirvana. But hypothetically speaking, suppose a vacant slot appeared on the list of each, and watching TV tonight you noticed the cushion felt a bit uncomfortable, lifted it up and discovered a year’s worth of Vegas slot jackpots in change down the back of the sofa. Which would you have? Which is best? LaFerrari, or the P1? We brought a P1 over the Alps and to Ferrari’s home town of Maranello to find out. Welcome to the lion’s den, McLaren.
You need to earn your LaFerrari drive in this game. No one gets behind the wheel of a factory car without a full technical briefing. So on a cold November morning, the powder-blue sky crisper than a 458’s throttle, Ben Barry makes his way through the hallowed gates for a brain-bending 90-minute tech-talk while I get busy funnelling 40 litres of super-plus through the McLaren’s roof-mounted fuel-filler. We’re heading for the roads south of Maranello, where the topography gets interesting and Ferrari’s own test drivers come to play. By the day’s end we’ll have seen three different prototypes for next year’s turbocharged 458, and been disappointed with the muted sound of every one.
There’s no disguising the obviously turbocharged sound and power delivery of the P1’s 3.8-litre V8, but it’s edgier than a Tolkien clifftop, and when you wind it right out to 8000rpm, trust me, there are no disappointments in the sound department. This might be a hybrid, but I don’t anticipate spending much time exploring the McLaren’s 6km EV range today. The route south is traffic-free, and as we track the ribbon of dry rocks that currently make up the Panaro river, scouting for locations while we wait for Ben, I realise how relaxed I’ve become in the P1 now that I’ve got several hundred McLaren miles under my belt. Blisteringly fast, surprisingly compliant and so communicative, it’s as easy to drive as a 650S, but far more able. Not that money is even a factor at this level, but LaFerrari, at £1m a whopping £130,000 more than even the £866,000 P1, is going to need to be something special to top this.
Rounding the final corner leading to our designated rendezvous I can’t help but get a little giddy at the sight of LaFerrari – against the pale-blue sky, doors aloft and looking for all the world like the reincarnation of a classic 1980s supercar poster, I’m just glad that Ben Barry hasn’t arrived sporting a bubble-perm wig and triangle bikini to complete the scene.
Immediately, it’s obvious how strikingly different the two cars are in design. And size. The Ferrari looks enormous, in fact: 114mm longer than the P1 and 46mm wider, but resting on a wheelbase shorter by 20mm that results in the nose hanging beyond the front axle as if design boss Flavio Manzoni had handed over to cartoonist Gerald Scarfe to draw the schnozzle. Whoever did draw that nose did a fine job though, because the combination of those angular arrow-slit headlamps, horizontal cooling slats and floating septum means it absolutely monsters the P1 when it comes to the rear-view-mirror scare factor. Circle round to the back end though, and it’s the P1 doing the scaring.
Both bodies are heavily contoured to make the most of the air passing above, below, and even through the car, the Ferrari’s outrageously scalloped flanks leaving the front wings almost adrift from the car’s thorax in a manner not seen on a Ferrari road car since the first one, the 125S, back in 1947. Both feature Le Mans-lite bubble-canopy cockpits, moveable rear spoilers that remain hidden from view until needed, and more downforce than a team pile-on after a World Cup final win. But only the Ferrari uses the purest hand-laid carbonfibre for its chassis, the P1 relying on the cheaper, pre-preg method used on the 650S. And only the Ferrari gives you a decent look into the engine bay, into the soul of the car.
That soul is an evolution of the F12’s 6.3-litre naturally aspirated V12. With 789bhp and a mental 9500rpm redline, that alone would be enough to make it one of the world’s very quickest cars, and almost 150bhp punchier than the Enzo it replaces. But here it’s augmented by 161bhp of electric power.
The McLaren has even more electric power, at 176bhp, is the only one with a plug-in charging option, and the only one to offer an EV mode – although a video circulating the web showing a black LaFerrari gliding silently out of a pit garage, proves the ability is there should Maranello change its mind. The P1’s combustion engine makes less power (727bhp), but its 531lb ft of torque is 15lb ft more. If you remember nothing else, the basics are this: the 1255kg Ferrari walks softly to the tune of 140kg, and taking both petrol and electric power into consideration, carries a 47bhp bigger stick.
I’m surprised that Ferrari, the company that sends out entire articulated lorries and even spare cars when we want to track-test a humble 458, hasn’t sent a technician or support car to chaperone its £1m flagship. Arrogance? Or just confidence? We know a P1 belonging to a gazillionaire in the queue for a LaFerrari has been spotted inside the factory gates and even on the Fiorano test track. Perhaps Maranello’s engineers already know the answers to the questions we’re about to ask.
While the photographer and video crew sort their kit, I swap cars with Ben and we head off in different directions. I’ve driven LaFerrari before, and on these roads in fact. But that was six months ago. How will it measure up after hundreds of miles in the McLaren? How different can two cars so closely matched in power, price and performance really feel?
I’ve barely opened the Ferrari’s door before those differences start appearing. You fold yourself awkwardly into the P1, but step casually into the Ferrari, its slim, low-cut sill and door aperture that bites deep into the roof making it a cinch to get in and out. Tug the door downwards (they’re surprisingly heavy in both cars), and the McLaren feels unsurprisingly similar to the 650S on which it is distantly based. The steering wheel and rising centre stack are instantly familiar, even if some of the details, the shape of the clocks and the deliciously comfortable and bespoke lightweight carbon-back seats aren’t. The Ferrari, meanwhile, which I remember as cramped back in the spring, feels comparatively vast. It feels like it’s just beamed down from another planet.
You sit more upright in the Maranello car, facing a more comprehensive digital display and F1-style rectangular wheel, but closer to the ground in a seat bolted rigidly to the floor. Ditching the traditional seat-runners meant Ferrari’s engineers could cut cabin volume compared with the old Enzo, while still leaving room for helmeted heads. So what looks like a lever under your thigh to move the seat actually unlocks the spring-loaded pedal box that gives more adjustment than an Anglepoise lamp. Getting comfortable isn’t difficult; getting comfortable with the performance is a different matter.
When even Fiestas come with keyless start, it seems absurd that a car so futuristic and expensive as this still requires you to twist a key to prime the ignition. Only then can you reach to the steering wheel’s lower left quadrant for the bright red button that will fire 12v to the starter motor. The V12 feels unfathomably smooth after the P1’s sore-raw V8. Quieter too, but still urgent, with little inertia resisting a call for more revs. Reach for the metal gearshift paddle. It’s fixed to the column in customary Ferrari fashion. The P1’s, fashioned from handsome carbonfibre, turn with the wheel.
The Ferrari’s pedals are markedly offset, but that’s forgotten the minute you roll onto the throttle and the thing takes off like you’ve just experienced the mother of all rear-end shunts. Holy cow, this thing is quick. Both of these cars are supposed to use electric power to make up a torque shortfall at low revs, but flatten the pedal in the McLaren in a higher gear and you can go and make a cuppa before the action starts. Try the same in the Ferrari and it picks you up harder and faster than any caffeine hit ever could. No wonder the rear tyres are a colossal 345mm wide – the same section as a Countach’s P7s, interestingly, but thanks to 5in of extra diameter, offering a much bigger footprint.
The peaks of the front wings help you place the nose, but it’s with some trepidation at first. The forward visibility isn’t as good as the P1’s, the steering even sharper than in the frenetic 458 Speciale. The McLaren you settle right into; LaFerrari feels more alien, and takes longer to trust. But trust you must, if you’re to do more than scratch the surface of its talents.
Fortunately, some familiar Ferrari traits help calm the nerves. The steering-wheel manettino selector, for instance, is more intuitive than the McLaren’s twin console-mounted rotary dials, and easier to wrestle with in the heat of the moment. And the ride is dumb-strikingly good. Thumb the damper button on the steering wheel, and both comfort and traction benefit as a result. I’m not sure about the brakes though. The power is there, but they feel grabby at first, and the energy regeneration system makes them hard to modulate when just tipping in.
Already it’s clear that these two cars, aligned so closely in terms of power, price and purpose, feel wildly different from behind the wheel. That much we do know. But which is fastest? Both reach 62mph from rest in less than 3sec, 100mph in five, and are limited to 217mph, though we’re too far from the autostrada to see which one gets there, or somewhere near it, first. But our video guy wants some chase footage looking back from one car onto another. Wants us to drive from the bottom of a hill to the top, as fast as we can. It’s risky, plain stupid, in fact. We’re on a public road, a road too small for cars this quick, if we’re honest. If the lead car spins we’ll be driving too close for the one behind to avoid it. The strong carbon passenger cells mean we’d likely survive unscathed, but probably wish we hadn’t. Gulp, here goes.
I’m in the lead in the McLaren, Ben a car length behind in LaFerrari. At least he is until I see him signal a thumbs-up, I light the blue touchpaper, and feel the turbos kick in with a bang gone 4000rpm, and instantly pull out a gap on him that suggests he’s just deployed a parachute. But the Ferrari’s huge low-rev torque means he’s back on me almost immediately, and right on my tail under brakes. A nudge of brakes and another at the wheel and the P1 flicks into the left-hander. There’s a surprising amount of kickback at the wheel, more than in the quicker-steering Ferrari. But it’s even more responsive in that first nano-degree of twist from centre and the feel is exquisite. You couldn’t know more about the road’s surface if you’d donned a high-vis and raked the tar out and rolled it flat yourself. But there’s definitely more understeer to deal with, and sticking with second gear on the slower, tighter bits, you’re too far below the power band to neutralise it.
A glance in the mirror shows Ben’s grappling with the opposite problem. The Ferrari’s front end bites hard, but even with rear tyres a full 30mm wider than the P1’s, the big hit of low-down torque that arrives each time he opens the taps is slewing the tail wide as we exit a tight left-hander on to the longest straight. Finally we get the chance to keep those right pedals pinned, two of the fastest four-wheelers on the planet, piling on 20mph increments, a second at a time. Forty, sixty, eighty, one hundred, one-twenty. Neck-and-neck every step up the ladder, and then back down again on the brakes. I can’t know how Ben feels, but the P1 feels like it could do this all day. Fortunately for my sanity and the safety of the people of Santa Poco, we don’t, and I ease off the gas, simultaneously gutted and relieved that it’s over. I glance across to the passenger seat. The video guy, who only met me for the first time last night, looks terrified, and I don’t feel much better myself. I’m shaking like a road-mender’s drill, as giddy with adrenaline as with the guilt of having driven far, far too fast.
I’m not going to pretend that a five-minute fight on a hill route that never let either car really stretch its legs beyond fourth gear or make use of its aero devices is in any way definitive proof that one is faster than the other around somewhere like the Nürburgring. But on these roads with two reasonably handy, and identically speedy drivers behind the wheel, they’re all but inseparable against the clock.
We spend the rest of the day criss-crossing our way through the spectacular late autumn scenery, picking off Fiats, picking up leaves with fat tyres and throwing them skywards, and trying to pick holes in either car. It’s not easy, if you accept that a car can actually be worth £1m, when a sublime 458 Speciale is four-fifths cheaper. But mostly we just try to pack in as much exposure to these amazing cars as we can. The elation of the last couple of days is tempered slightly by the knowledge that this could well be our last proper encounter with either car, and even if we ever find our way behind the wheels in years to come, probably with an owner’s or dealer’s car, we’re unlikely to have a free pass to paste them so mercilessly.
Many of the super-rich owners who’ll buy one of these are so wealthy that they’ll have bought the other too, and possibly the Porsche 918 as well. But suppose they weren’t all sold out, and could pick only one. Which would you have? I could put a P1 in the garage just to stare at that outrageous rear styling, never mind to feel the savage kick of the V8 on full boost, that incredible steering, or the way you just click with the car from the moment you get behind the wheel. But there’s no getting away from the fact that the Ferrari’s drivetrain is the more impressive: faster revving, smoother, more soulful and so much lustier. The Ferrari feels more of an event because that’s what it is. A ground up clean-sheet car with the most outrageous front-end response this side of a pitwall. At this level, the McLaren’s reassuring similarity to the 650S is partly its undoing, because whatever any eventual track test or Nürburgring laptimes might prove, I suspect the Maranello car will always feel more special. Staggering, wonderful achievement as the McLaren P1 is, on these roads, and for these drivers, the epoch-defining LaFerrari wins.
Second opinion: Ben Barry
I’m into LaFerrari first, and its 950bhp adrenaline hit requires complete mental recalibration. It’s not performance madly ramped up, it’s a new kind of power, like skipping from vinyl to MP3. Imagine the instantaneous response and appetite for revs of a naturally aspirated engine combined with the instant torque of an electric motor. And imagine it all integrated so perfectly that you can’t isolate one from the other. The usual inertia – the pause for components to clear their throats – has simply disappeared. Accelerating moderately in fifth is like going hard in third in most supercars.
You drive about trying to acclimatise and you’re thinking, ‘Jesus, if it goes like that in fifth, how the hell is it going to pull in second? And surely everything just goes black if I turn the traction control off…’ All the while you’re pootling down the street, almost forgetting the excellent ride quality and easy steering, and then swooping it into little roundabouts and getting that sense of total precision that emboldens you to grab a car by the scruff of the neck. Just like, say, a Ferrari 458 Speciale.
On our hairpin-strewn route, I get too much traction-control interference in Race mode, so I turn everything off. It’s definitely the quicker way, but quelling the resultant slides is fast and frantic and even brutal as LaFerrari smears rubber over the tarmac while furiously gathering speed.
The steering feels super-quick, but also totally natural, where a 458 or F12 requires re-adjustment every time I drive one. And the front end is super-impressive. The first time you man-up and keep off the brakes going into a corner, the front end bites and swoops round the bend in one unflustered arc and you think, ‘damn, I’m nowhere close to this thing’s capabilities’.
To me, the gearshifts feel no more impressive than a Speciale’s – which are, erm, instant – and the brakes are too grabby. LaFerrari uses regenerative braking, so perhaps that’s it – there’s a tiny bit of travel, then everything kicks in. It’s not a problem when you’re flat-out, but frustratingly clumsy at eight tenths.
You notice the McLaren is harder to climb into, and that you sit higher on seats with actual seat frames that are canted further back than the Ferrari’s. I’m surprised by how much more at ease the P1’s cockpit makes me feel, though.
Several things quickly strike you: the steering is slower than LaFerrari’s so that you can no longer keep your hands fixed through hairpins, but it’s also gorgeously precise and tantalisingly delicate. I think I prefer it. The brakes are polar opposites to LaFerrari. McLaren has purposefully shied away from regenerative braking because it can destroy pedal feel, but the initial bite is disappointingly lackadaisical – I crave more urgent feedback – but once you learn to push harder and further, the pedal is actually easier to modulate than LaFerrari’s.
The guttural, technological belching of the engine is gruffer and louder than in LaFerrari – electric mode is a boon in traffic so you can talk to your passenger.
Like the Ferrari, this is crazy performance, and there seems nothing in it as we chase up our test route, the 903bhp P1 initially laggy out of the slower corners, then boosting manically in a spike that spins up the rear tyres – like LaFerrari, you need to act quickly when the traction bleeds away.
The biggest flaw is the P1 is limited by its front end – go in hard and it’ll understeer and you’ll get some unpleasant distortion through the steering as you overstep its limits.
For me, the P1 is a fantastic car, one with extraordinary performance that’s both intensely visceral and surprisingly useable, but it feels like a mega 650S, and given that both its tub and its engine are developments of that car’s, it’s understandable. LaFerrari, meanwhile, represents a quantum leap over any other supercar. Way to bow out, Luca.
