CHIRONIMO!
So you thought the Bugatti Veyron was as rapid as a road car would ever be? Not any more, as the new Chiron demonstrates
The reinvention of Bugatti is one of the great modern epics, but it didn’t get off to a promising start. In fact there was a time when, in acquiring the rights to Bugatti, it seemed like VW had committed itself to the ultimate folly. Between 1998 and 1999, four successive W18-cylinder Bugatti show cars – the EB118, EB218, 18/3 Chiron and EB 18/4 Veyron – boasted incredible specifications, but were all apparently light-years from production. Then, in 2000, a revised EB 16/4 Veyron show car appeared. Green-lit the following year, it still took four more years to reach production as the Veyron EB 16.4.
When it did, the supercar genre changed forever. But for performance purists the Veyron was an indelicate device, conceived to chase previously unthinkable numbers and claim bragging rights for VW. Such engineering overkill had undeniable impact, and there was no doubt that the Bugatti approach resulted in a car quite unlike any other. But beyond the record-breaking pace and kudos amongst the super-rich, the Veyron delivered a rather numb and subdued driving experience when unable to chase stratospheric speeds. That would be most of the time for most of the owners, then.
Nevertheless the prospect of topping the Veyron must have been a fearsome challenge, one that by definition would have to extend the realm of the possible further than ever before. Still, if there’s one thing engineers relish, it’s finding ways of exceeding what they once felt were the limits of power, strength and efficiency.
And so to the Chiron, a car that goes beyond in every measurable area. More power, more torque, more speed. More extensive use of exotic materials. And, at least so we’re told, more charisma and engagement than the Veyron. In short, the fastest production car in the world promises to deliver on empirical and emotional levels. Here is where we find out for ourselves. PARKED OUTSIDE the launch venue a black Chiron broods, its dramatic array of eight headlights forming a narrow-eyed frown. Part sculpture, part spaceship, it makes more of a statement than the Veyron, but retains a certain reserve. The broad stance and bulked-up haunches are balanced by oversized arcs of alloy that bisect each flank to create a bold and unmistakable visual signature, one which performs both an aesthetic and an aerodynamic function. The engine cover is like a piece of red-carpet couture, tantalising glimpses of the Chiron’s quad-turbo W16 engine creating a lustful curiosity for what lies beneath. The tail is pure drama, brutally abrupt and brilliantly adept at extracting hot air from that furnace of an engine bay. The full width tail-light, framed by a onepiece alloy surround machined from a 200kg billet, is a spectacular sign-off for those left in the Chiron’s wake.
There’s no fancy door arrangement to gain entry, none of the gullwings, scissors, swan-wings or dihedral
shenanigans favoured by other supercar makers. Instead the door opens in the conventional manner, but there’s still some drama to be found in the shape of another flamboyant C-shaped curve slicing down the centre line of the cockpit from headlining to transmission tunnel.
The driving position is spot-on. Forward and lateral visibility is good, but there’s little to see through the rearview mirror thanks to that engine cover and the big rear wing. And that’s before it turns turtle to serve as an airbrake. By far the best bit of the interior is the speedometer. Reading to 500km/h (that’s 310mph in old money), it’s a sight which will surely lead to greasy nose, forehead and hand prints being left on the side glass of any Chiron that makes it out into the wild.
The start procedure is simple, but brimming with anticipation. Foot on the brake, press the blue starter button on the steering wheel and wait for the W16 to fire. When it does it shuns the shock-and-awe start-ups of more exuberant exotica in favour of a meaty, seismic pulse. It simmers and throbs at idle, voice rising to a deep growl that’s full of menace when you prod the throttle – the embodiment of Roosevelt’s famous ‘Speak softly and carry a big stick’ quote.
The bones of the quad-bank, eight-litre W16 are shared with the Veyron, but much of it and its major ancillary parts are new. They had to be to achieve the desired uplift in power and torque, from the Veyron’s 1183bhp and 1106lb ft in its final Super Sport iteration to the Chiron’s 1479bhp and 1179lb ft. In essence the gains came from more turbo boost, but to get more boost the turbos (all four of them) had to be significantly bigger. Bigger turbos mean more lag – unless you’re Bugatti, in which case you bypass two turbos below 3800rpm and flow all the exhaust gases through the remaining pair. Once those two have hit their stride, the other two join the party.
More power and greater boost require stronger components, which generally means more mass, but again Bugatti went back to first principles to strip away excess mass while retaining strength. The colossal crankshaft is stronger but no heavier; the conrods are stronger but lighter. Carbonfibre is used for the intake system, titanium for the exhaust. The challenges must have seemed insurmountable, the project every engineer’s dream.
Every aspect and element of the Chiron is a no-excuses exercise. The carbon tub – made for Bugatti by Dallara – is as rigid as an LMP1 prototype’s. The carbon bodywork features an ultra-thin, ultra-strong sandwich layer of alloy honeycomb to add strength and save weight. The brakes (more on which later) feature fabulous turbine-vaned heat shields that also draw air through the wheels – and therefore the discs – to improve cooling by as much as 50%, and then feed airflow along the flanks of the car to improve the aerodynamics. There are so many facts and figures it makes your head spin. CONSEQUENTLY, WHEN the moment finally comes to drive the Chiron, you’re already star-struck. There’s a sense of occasion, much more so than with the Veyron, but still the ease with which you can drive the Chiron and the civility with which it makes low-speed progress belies its unprecedented potency and performance potential.
The transmission is sweetness itself, seamlessly shuffling up and down through the gears by its own logic or at the command of your fingertips via the paddleshifters. The control weights are modest but there’s a meaningful level of effort and connection. For the first time in a Bugatti you have a choice of driving modes
‘The W16 simmers and throbs at idle, its voice rising to a deep growl full of menace when you prod the throttle’
(controlled via a rotary switch mounted on the left-hand side of the starter button), from supple to slap-shot depending on your mood and driving opportunities. Speaking of which, there’s also a power key which lurks in the driver’s door sill. Turn this bad boy and the Chiron is primed for VMAX, or rather the upper tier of the electronic speed limiter.
The Chiron’s performance is absurd. Wonderful, head-scrambling, eye-widening, but still absurd. When you get behind the wheel of this incredible machine, reality is suspended as physics bend to the will of 1500 metric bhp and 1600Nm – such tidy figures – whenever you squeeze the right-hand pedal towards its stop. Unfortunately, the reality suspension doesn’t include speed limits.
Nothing in my experience gains speed so rapidly between corners, nor puts such immense torque into the road surface with greater ease. At first you squeeze the throttle in a higher gear, unwilling to believe that even Michelin’s magical compounds can summon the strength to hold on against such an onslaught, but as long as they have some temperature in them they bite like running spikes. So much so that before long you try it in a lower gear and then, finally, from a standing start.
Quoting a Chiron’s 0-62mph time is a bit like judging Usain Bolt on his first few strides out of the blocks. It takes a while for 1950kg (more like 2100kg with fluids and driver) to hit its stride, though a claimed sub-2.5sec dash is hardly tardy. Four more seconds and the Big Bug is beginning to motor, 124mph arriving from a standstill in just 6.6sec. Keep the throttle pinned, 186mph is demolished in 13 seconds and the world begins to go a bit fuzzy at the edges.
This is propulsion and pace of an entirely different magnitude. To view the world from the driver’s seat of a Chiron is a bit like entering the Matrix. You see things differently. The shortest straights have the potential for scenery-melting speeds. Imagine your favourite stretch of road: unless it’s the Stevio Pass I can all but guarantee a Chiron would crack 200mph on it. When it comes to overtaking it’s less of a car, more of a time machine.
Tap into that performance, and when you’ve managed to prise your eyes from the horizon to glance down at the fuel gauge you’ll see revealed a thirst so prodigious you can watch the fuel range diminish with each burst of acceleration. At full chat you could drain the 100-litre tank in less than nine minutes.
The Veyron always struggled to summon the stopping power, or rather the stamina, to keep reining itself in from speed. Not so the Chiron, thanks to simply massive carbon discs – 420mm front, 380mm rear – gripped by complex and beautifully sculptural calipers. The front calipers in particular are fabulous pieces of engineering, larger, stronger and lighter than the Veyron’s, with eight pistons pushing four pads. These are supplemented by the air brake, which punches into the airstream to create extra drag and stability. Stand on the middle pedal at high speed and the Chiron will pull 2g of retardation, sending you plummeting into your seat belt.
‘To view the world from the driving seat of a Chiron is like entering the Matrix. You see things differently’
The Chiron’s ability to go and stop grabs headlines, but actually it’s the way it tackles corners that warrants the most celebration. It flows beautifully, feeling much more alive than its predecessor. You’re able to build a picture of how much grip there is to work with, so rather than switching off your senses and simply working on the basis that it will find the grip, you are always part of the process.
As you’d expect, there are vast reserves of roadholding but its all tangible. It’s a nuanced experience, subtle shifts in lateral load felt through the steering wheel as you work through a sequence of corners. There’s life to the responses, a dialogue between machine and driver and a feeling of poise and balance that was lacking in the Veyron. This doesn’t mean it has the physicality and explicit flow of information you get from something like a McLaren P1, but that’s as you would expect from a two-tonne machine billed as a hyper GT, not a pared-back, hardcore road racer. It’s a blend of crushing capability and finely wrought connection, effortless but able to deliver genuine excitement without a reliance on massive speeds. Credit, then, to Loris Bicocchi, Bugatti’s lead test driver, for shaping the Chiron’s dynamic character to ensure it feels alive, yet blessed with supreme stability. It’s his genius that has bestowed a lightness of touch on this heavy hitter. DOES A NEAR-1500bhp, 260-plus mph, petrol-powered car costing £2.5m have any purpose beyond massaging the egos of the world’s ultra-high-net-worth community? If you read the Daily Mail, probably not. But if you appreciate human endeavour in all its forms and value the exceptional wherever it exists, then the Bugatti Chiron is a machine worth celebrating. Most important, though, is something the Veyron never quite achieved. It’s this: if you love driving, the Chiron is a car to relish.