My First Supercar™
It might not have won over everyone who drove it but Jake Groves is sold on life with an Audi R8
And just like that, our Audi R8 vanishes as fast as it arrived. Feels like minutes since I got the bulky, tracker-equipped key to the 612bhp soft-top, and it almost feels like a death in the family now it’s gone. I’m not kidding – several people have come up to me since the R8’s departure and said something along the lines of: ‘Won’t be the same without the R8, will it?’
Indeed. It’s been quite an experience: eye-opening, expensive and a great deal of enjoyment.
One of the biggest revelations has been the strongly tribal reactions to the R8. For some, it’s their dream car, or at least the one they’d like to own, due to its innate accessibility and the assumption that, since it’s an Audi, it’ll be bombproof.
Then there’s the hostile camp – those who just don’t get it. They say it’s too soft, too sanitised and dynamically blunt compared with the likes of Porsche, Ferrari or McLaren. There seem to be very few who don’t align themselves with one camp or the other. But I think I’m one of them.
It really is a dream car for me, and has been since I was 13. But I also understand some of the criticisms. The steering in particular, although decent in isolation, is nowhere near as precise as a Porsche 911 or McLaren 600LT, nor as alert as the updated Lamborghini Huracan.
That said, throughout our months with the R8 the ride was stellar, aided by optional adaptive dampers, the grip near-infallible, launch control an addictive kick in the back, and the rolling acceleration never got old.
I’ve put almost 11,000 miles onto the clock, none of them boring. I couldn’t stop smiling cruising to and from Le Mans, blasting music with the roof down on autoroutes or childishly letting the engine howl through long tunnels. Congested A1 drives to visit family and friends in Newcastle were more of an event than ever before. Even my short commutes acquired a sprinkling of magic.
Downsides? Well, it’s wide, so you have to be conscious of where you’re trying to park it; multistoreys are pretty much a no-go area as a precaution. Happily, it was largely unfazed by speedbumps – despite the lack of a nose-lift system – but I still winced driving over every single one.
Naturally, running a V10 supercar is heinously expensive
– I spent around £3300 on super unleaded, and the depreciation is brutal. Or, looked at more positively, there are some great pre-owned R8 deals to be had.
There may be sharper, fiercer, brasher supercars but there’s an allure to an R8 that’s hard to ignore. It’s crazy fast and dramatic, without being threatening; capable of carrying a weekend’s worth of camping kit and yet looks just at home at a concours event. For a supercar beginner like myself, it’s been quite the baptism. Like the 911 Turbo, the R8 has always been seen as an ‘everyday supercar’ – after living with one, I finally understand why.
There may be sharper, fiercer, brasher supercars but there’s an allure to an R8 that’s hard to ignore