THE SUB­TLE ART OF NOT GIV­ING A TOSS

ENRIGHT FI­NALLY FIG­URES OUT HOW TO EN­JOY SU­PER­CAR OWN­ER­SHIP

Wheels (Australia) - - Garage - ANDY ENRIGHT

IDON’T THINK I’m a su­per­car kind of guy. That might seem an odd ad­mis­sion given that I’ve just en­joyed a long-term ten­ure with a 570GT, but if I had to sum­marise my re­la­tion­ship with the Mclaren it would prob­a­bly fall into the ‘com­pli­cated’ cat­e­gory. I never once stopped get­ting a kick out of seeing it in my garage. When my part­ner wasn’t look­ing, I’d of­ten leave the door from the garage to the house open a nick, just to catch a glimpse of that sickle-shaped head­light as I walked be­tween my bed­room and the kitchen.

The 570GT was al­ways a riot to drive, too. There’s some­thing ex­tremely life-af­firm­ing about wak­ing up and re­al­is­ing that you’re go­ing to be punt­ing a carbon-tubbed mis­sile with 280kw/ tonne up some amaz­ing coun­try roads

be­fore you start your work­ing day. As our ed­i­tor, Alex In­wood, noted last month, other peo­ple seemed to love the Mclaren too. But here’s the thing. I’m not go­ing to pre­tend that ac­tu­ally run­ning a Mclaren 570GT is an en­tirely stress-free ex­pe­ri­ence.

You worry about where to park it when you’re out, you’re al­ways won­der­ing if some­body’s go­ing to dint it, you’re hy­per­sen­si­tive to scrap­ing the nose on bumpy roads, or dam­ag­ing an al­loy in a pot­hole, or birdlime dam­ag­ing the paint. You get para­noid about sea salt on wet swim gear go­ing any­where near any­thing made of leather, and you some­times take a cou­ple of trips around the block be­cause you weren’t sure about the car that was be­hind you as you ap­proached your house. Su­per­car para­noia. It’s a thing.

Now, none of this is an is­sue in­her­ent to the Mclaren. I’d doubt­less be the same if I were in a Lam­borgh­ini or a Fer­rari, and I’ve re­alised that the only real way to al­le­vi­ate this is­sue is to have so much money that you really don’t care about any of the above. You just pay an in­signif­i­cant (to you) sum to have some­one fix it on your be­half and get on with your life. So, if you can only just scrape your way into su­per­car own­er­ship, I’d coun­sel against it.

As it stands, a cou­ple of is­sues would have sent the Mclaren back to the shop this month in any case. The first to raise its head was that the sat-nav started behaving in a deeply odd fashion. It’d record the car as mov­ing when it was sta­tion­ary and then fail to reg­is­ter the car on the satel­lite net­work at all on other oc­ca­sions. The sec­ond is­sue con­cerned the pho­tochro­matic glass roof. This switched it­self to dark mode, and no amount of but­ton jab­bing or re­boot­ing the car would see it re­turn to full trans­parency. Nei­ther were ma­jor is­sues, but both were a lit­tle an­noy­ing.

Nor did they take the shine off those mo­ments when the sun was out, you had no par­tic­u­lar place to go and there was no­body watch­ing. Would I be a su­per­car guy if I had the req­ui­site funds? Let’s just say that the Mclaren 570GT de­liv­ers quite a con­vinc­ing ar­gu­ment, and it’s been a wholly mem­o­rable ex­pe­ri­ence. Any­body want to crowd­fund an im­pe­cu­nious jour­nal­ist?

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