Wednesday, 18 January 2012

Another example of Ezra Dyer being one of the few great humorous automotive writers you can find

The most incredible thing about the all-wheel-drive Veyron is not its engine but its drivetrain. A Veyron just digs in and goes. I try not to indulge in hyperbole, but when I floor the Veyron, we pass a tribe of Morlocks and the Wicked Witch of the West, and the sky turns green and commuters fly past on personal dirigibles, and then I hit the brakes and we return to our dimension.

I have a split second to think, "Hey, this is fast but controllable." Then the turbos hit.
It's like a bomb went off behind the rear bumper and we're surfing the shockwave. I upshift and it happens again, except now we're going much faster. The rear end scrabbles for traction and I find myself countersteering at perhaps 65 mph. I back off the gas, because I am not ready to visit third gear of the Mosler Raptor on this particular street. Not even if Waylon Jennings were sitting next to me singing the Dukes of Hazzard theme song. 


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