R8 V10 no longer a pretender
Supercar Road Test: 2017 Audi R8 V10 Plus
Here’s how deadly serious Audi is about boosting the R8’s supercar bona fides: The V10 Plus model, the one just about anyone can buy as long as you have the requisite $200,000+, has more horsepower than the LMS — that’s Le Mans Series — racing car it is based on.
Yes, pretty much anyone can walk into an Audi dealership and order up a 610-hp version of Ingolstadt’s latest supercar, but the company’s race team — the drivers trained for the toughest and highest-speed racing series in the world — is “limited” to 585 ponies.
No longer. Those 610 horses? They’re the same as the Huracán LP610’s version of the 5.2-litre V10. Ditto for the aluminum and carbon-fibre chassis, the Brembo carbon-ceramic brakes and even the seven-speed dual-clutch transmission (the six-speed manual with its Ferrari-esque gated shifter is no longer available). Think of the new R8 as the Huracán’s carbon clone, only without the juvenile exterior styling and narcissistic look-at-me pastel-coloured paint jobs.
Yes, but is it as fast as the Lamborghini?
Oh, most assuredly yes. Indeed, the R8’s personality — at least, the comportment side of it — has completely changed. What was once a little lazy and play-boyish (we oldsters can think of a flouncy-haired Derek Sanderson here; Millennials, Phil Kessel) the R8 is now as serious as Alexander Ovechkin (I suspect neither Boomer nor Millennial needs an introduction here).
That big V10, once long on drama but not nearly as much on actual motivation, is a beast. Compared with the latest batch of turbocharged supercars — Ferrari’s 488, every McLaren, etc. — the 5.2-L’s throttle response is crystal-meth immediate, there being no lazy turbo lag or wait-till-I-smoke-a-doob hesitation. It screams and right now. Anything above 3,000 rpm — and redline is all the way to 8,700 — pushes the R8 forward like, well, the race car it really is now.
Indeed, Audi says a Plus edition — with the stickiest Pirelli tire option — will scoot to 100 km/h in a very supercar-like 3.1 seconds, the very same as Lamborghini’s latest Huracán. Top speed is an equally eye-opening 330 km/h.
But that is only the beginning of the R8’s transformation. The chassis, like the engine, is heart-attack serious; gone is the sluggish viscous coupling from the centre differential of the world-famous Quattro all-wheel-drive system. In its stead is a quicker-reacting electromagnetic clutch, that speedier response needed because the Audi now directs more of the V10’s torque rearward, the better for it to emulate rearwheel-drive agility (while, of course, retaining the safety of AWD).
Even the traction nanny — the drive select system, in Audi parlance — is a little more liberal when flipped into its Dry mode.
Indeed, so much has the new R8’s bias changed towards Italian tail-happiness that Audi seems to have tried to imbue the new version with a little save-the-ham-fisted understeer of the original. Unusually, the R8’s 235/35ZR20 Pirellis run at a seriously stiff 49 psi, significantly higher than the rear 305/30ZR20’s 41 psi, the pressure increase meant to decrease front traction and promote a little of that face — and bodywork — saving understeer I mentioned.
Being the evil little auto journalist that I am, I — don’t tell Audi! — “liberated” a little of the excess oxygen that was pumping up the front PZeros and, lo and behold, the front stuck more tenaciously than ever. With the pointy end now firmly planted, it became even easier to fishtail out of the Shannonville’s famed hairpins, so much so that a little uncharacteristic (for me; not the car!) caution was needed in throttle application. Melted rubber is an acceptable byproduct of full-throttle track-testing hijinks; bent bodywork not so much.
That emulation of supercar seriousness pervades the R8’s cabin. For one thing, the steering wheel now has all the performance-controlling switchgear — the driving mode selector and traction control systems, not to mention the little button that liberates a few extra decibels from the exhaust system — as well as the start button. It doesn’t evoke quite as much Formula One authenticity as the 488’s Manettino, but it does place all the controls at the driver’s fingertips, which is important.
As well, there’s a little less of the previous car’s over-the-top hedonism to the interior decor. Still constructed with Audi’s acclaimed quality, there’s less bling and more attention to detail; it looks more like a cockpit now and a little less like a boudoir. On the other hand, there are some nifty little practical touches, such as a repository with two USB ports for cellphone storage and another little binnacle that holds the key fob, that border on the (God forbid) practical.
That said, there is a downside to this new supercar seriousness. For one thing, the top-of-the-line gofaster Le Mans edition of the R8 comes standard with non-adjustable racing buckets. Oh, they’re all leathered out and quite well padded, but if the seat’s recline doesn’t jibe with your lower lumbars, there’s no altering the seating position. For what it’s worth, they’re the first such non-adjustable seats my lower vertebrae could stand for any extended drive. Nonetheless, give them a test before ordering.
It all speaks now to a supercar, especially in Plus guise, serious about actually stimulating the senses, rather than just dressing in supercar clothes.