MCRALEN 650S SPIDER

Since this was a day in the 650S Spider, the good stuff started the moment I left home on one of those bright, crisp mornings that spikes the hours after dawn with just enough chill to speed the waking up process, particularly when you’ve an 80-mile roof-down journey with 641bhp at your back. Not all that much later the good stuff continued with a trackday hospitality suite quite unlike any I’d previously enjoyed. Instead of instant coffee, a cold pit garage full of puddles and a shouty, Full Metal Jacket-style briefing, the gathered McLaren owners, present and future, enjoyed good espressos, even better bacon, PlayStations for a little pre-track sim work and a good-natured, funny welcome chat from Woking’s top in-house helmsman Chris Goodwin.

And then there was instructor Ray Grimes, on hand like a taller, less green Yoda to unleash my inner Alonso. Being male, I spent the morning disregarding the idea of taking any instruction and merrily understeering my way around the circuit on an unholy mess of lines no one else seemed to be taking. I was lost, adrift on a sea of ignorance and exuberance, and saved from drowning only by the McLaren’s assists. Where F1 drivers specialise in speed with consistency I had neither, that epic front-end scrub occasionally spiking into messy half-slides. Other 650Ss eased past. Bruno Senna (below), in a 675LT, howled past like I was stuck in first. Maybe there was room for improvement.

I assumed the day would run in sessions but after a handful of initial sighting laps Silverstone’s International circuit (tasty, but the layout that sadly hangs a right just before the mighty Maggots/Becketts complex to cut out half the full lap and re-join on the Wellington straight) was ours for the day, to drive as much or as little as we liked. More good stuff.

The understeer simply vanished. Tyres thumped encouragingly over rumble strips; entry, apex, exit. My confidence soared. Braking later meant more speed. Tidier lines meant more speed. Neater exits meant more speed. And the sensations were exquisite, particularly when I got the combination of steering angle, line and pedal pressure just right and the whole car, all 1600kg of carbon, Ben, Ray and twin-turbo V8, felt exquisitely agile, balanced like a spinning basketball on a finger.

As the day rolled on, the good stuff continued. The 650S’s fuel economy dropped into single figures. A mechanic checking my tyre pressures after a session found the valve caps too hot to remove, even wearing gloves, which I took to be a good thing. In the time between sessions I chatted with other Pure disciples, a passionate, gregarious bunch with wildly different objectives. Some were on their way to becoming fully-fledged GT race drivers. Others just wanted to get to know their McLaren better, and to explore its towering potential. A few didn’t own one yet, though their smiles suggested they soon would. One was running his privately owned ex-Mika Häkkinen MP4-16, the shrill majesty of its raging V10 a poignant reminder of an already forgotten pre-turbo era. All were having the time of their lives.

To be fair to Ray he stayed quiet for a whole lap, observing, biting his tongue and gently shaking his head. Then, with perhaps 25 spoken words, he changed everything. The Eureka moment was trail-braking, and much more of it. Previously I’d been timidly brushing the middle pedal (the McLaren only has two, but you know what I mean) on the way into corners, the legacy of too many years on motorcycles and their break-your-legs intolerance of too much combined turning and braking. Where I’d been braking hard in the McLaren but coming off the pedal before turn-in, and then wondering why, when I tried to turn, the nose-light 650S skated wide like a cat on greased tiles, Ray had me braking a little later and carrying much more brake pressure into each corner.

Month 4 running a McLaren supercar: poring over the details

Fine fundamentals – searing speed, a dazzling chassis – are almost a given. But the 650S’s little things are even better. Here we pore over some of the delectable details of our everyday supercar.

No oil consumption in 2000 miles, smoother than waxed water from cold and capable of traffic-clearing overtakes in a heartbeat. Lacks the visual or aural appeal of a Ferrari V8 but the swell of boost, when it arrives, doesn’t want for drama. Twin-clutch gearbox a joy whether in automatic or manual mode, though pulling both paddles for neutral would be easier than prodding a button. 19.5mpg limits range and disposable income.

You expect discs, calipers and hydraulics with the power to equal the V8’s limitless reach, but what’s striking is the carbon-ceramics’ calibration and all-weather usability. At one extreme their feel, strength and subtle ABS software let you nibble away at your braking points at Brands. At the other, the 650S stops from walking pace without a jolt. Pedal itself worthy of an F1 car. Orange calipers just £910.

Perhaps not, but the 650S’s big front luggage compartment – generous enough for a second passenger if needs must – has room enough for cases, bags, jackets, tweed and fascinators (well, it was Goodwood Revival). Spider lacks the Coupe’s handy shelf behind the seats but hits back with the tonneau compartment, that – with the roof up – lets you stash more gear in the space the car would use for the roof were it folded away.

Steering wheel simply the best there is – odd at first grasp, then so good everything else feels forever wrong. Enormous central rev counter gives you a fighting chance of keeping up. Stalk on the left gets you into the sub-menus, including settings and tyre pressures. Clever shortcut – hold the lever up for a second – for raising the suspension (all round remember, not just the front) is a great detail. Second-gen IRIS interface nicely slick.

Month 2 running a McLaren 650S: a real multi-purpose vehicle?

Life with a McLaren 650S Spider inevitably involves giving plenty of passenger rides. Obliging could hardly be described as a chore, and can prove useful for finally silencing family members previously convinced that their Alfa Mito is ‘a rocket ship’.

Any true supercar must be able to impress in this scenario – talk of advanced composites counts for nothing if a car can’t render a ten-year-old boy hysterical. And I had worried for the McLaren on this score, largely because the last supercar I was fortunate to spend any real time with – CJ’s Lamborghini Huracan – might have been crafted from the wheels up with impressing passengers as its driving design objective, hence the wild styling, banshee V10 and lime green seats.

I needn’t have worried. Our Spider may be stealth of paint, rendered as it is in dark Storm grey, but the orange calipers and diamond-cut wheels work to dramatic effect against the car’s menacing form. The McLaren seems just as capable at invoking silent awe as any Lamborghini. The doors help. The lack of an obvious handle delights newcomers, as does the effortless way in which each one hisses up like a butterfly wing on its strut. A true supercar must have event doors. Front-hinged and outward-opening? Please.

Month 3 running a McLaren 650S Spider: track and touring, ticked and ticked

A couple of unforgettable consecutive days brought the McLaren’s versatility into focus. On the Thursday, a Pure track day at Silverstone. More on this later but suffice to say the 650S, with its assists pegged back but not switched off and its twin-turbo V8 savaging anything resembling a straight, was an awe-inspiring ally. And the next morning two of us, together with an unfeasible number of bags, cruised to the Goodwood Revival, enjoying the McLaren’s immaculate road manners.

And the rest of the time, when you’re on your own, the 650S shines with a deeply satisfying brilliance across an impressively broad operating window. On dry roads you know well it’s predictably accomplished, effortlessly eclipsing any previous personal bests you have set with its blend of any-rev thrust, mighty grip, fantastic steering and wickedly strong brakes. It’s just as engaging in the streaming wet too, the multi-level traction and stability systems allowing you to explore the available grip in complete safety. The deft damping and communicative, encouraging steering also swell your confidence. For me the car’s at its best on wet roads, rear window dropped to better hear the engine and the underbody aero flinging a vast GT3-style wake into the atmosphere behind you. The only snag in such conditions is that because the stability systems are linked to the Handling mode, switching to Sport, for its firmer damper set-up and weightier steering, also slackens the electronic leash. There’s a logic there of sorts, but it’s interesting to note that on the 675LT McLaren has decoupled the two.

And if you’ve a couple of hundred miles of ground to cover on more mundane roads the 650S is no less capable; refined, comfortable and shot-through with an intangible but ever-present sense of special-ness. Set the chassis to Normal, the gearbox to Auto and the DAB radio to talkSPORT, pop a Starbucks in the cup holder and you’re ready for any journey, even the kind of four-hour stints that have Huracan pilots grumbling.

Once aboard the twin-turbo V8 yelping into life ramps up the anticipation nicely, as does dropping the roof. The next few minutes have now begun to adhere to a script of sorts. Passenger expresses delight at the quality and design of the cabin, coos at seats, then plays with nearest air vent (which look identical to those used on McLaren’s F1 pitwall ‘office’, though in the 650S they ventilate a far happier environment). Throttle goes to the full extent of its travel for perhaps three seconds. Passenger goes silent, grasps handle. 650S negotiates corner or roundabout at speed without roll, protest or incident. Passenger grunts, then starts laughing as the car’s speed drops back to normal and the McLaren reverts back to its plush-riding, auto-shifting best-behaviour.

Outside sits the Qualified stock, a rainbow range of 650S and 12C coupes and Spiders, with prices from ‘just’ £125,000. Qualified cars are inspected and prepared by McLaren technicians, sold with a 12-month warranty (you can upgrade to 24 months) and run the latest software upgrades. McLaren released several in the wake of the 12C’s initial launch, boosting power (from the original 12C coupe’s 592bhp to the Spider’s 617bhp across both variants), delivering a more intuitive and reliable version of the IRIS interface and bringing the 650S’s active aero functions to the 12C’s airbrake (auto-DRS at throttle openings of 80% or more, and angle adjustments to help stabilise the car when cresting sharp rises or braking hard). A 2012 12C coupe in McLaren orange catches my eye, at £126,950. I’dstruggle to raise a tenth of the asking price but, given the 12C’s rarity at fewer than 5000 units worldwide, and its importance as the first car of McLaren’s post-F1 renaissance, used buys surely come no smarter.

From the showroom a widescreen window lets you peek into the workshop, which is every bit as clean and as ordered as you’d imagine. Today – and I’m assured they’re not just for our benefit – not one but two P1s sit ready for expert attention. Ascot’s aftersales manager and hugely experienced McLaren spannerman Ben Bradford is as happy elbows-deep in a hybrid P1 as he is in the BMW-powered F1, which Ascot also service from time to time. Up on another ramp a 12C undergoes a routine service, its drag-cheating fully faired floor clear to see. And there, undergoing final checks, is our 650S Spider.

Despite the distractions, I spot it immediately. And while I’d love to be able to say I play it cool as a cucumber, acknowledging the car with a polite smile before getting down to the paperwork with sales executive Pete Sanderson, the truth is my face lights up like I’ve just been dealt a royal flush, my heart thuds in my chest like a cricket bat in a washing machine and my imagination immediately vaults ahead to a summer of roof-down bliss, sun-kissed trackdays and the higher state of being that comes with using a machine of such prodigious talent as an everyday tool.

Paperwork signed, it’s out to the car for a briefing. Gone is the 12C’s Jedi hand-swipe door release, replaced by an altogether easier, if less theatrical, rubber button. Up lifts the butterfly door on its perfectly judged strut and in I slide, getting comfortable in a car I’ll soon be hopping in and out of as a matter of routine. Wide sills mean there’s an art to roof-up entry, but getting in and out with the roof open is as easy as dropping into a 641bhp bathtub.

Pull the door shut, tug on the smaller stalk beneath the indicator for comfort entry and the seat whirs back into position. Far from feeling cool and standoffish, the cockpit’s beautifully hewn minimalism is welcoming. The steering wheel is free of buttons. Behind it the cast metal indicator lever and gearshift paddle are delightfully cool and solid to the touch. The IRIS system is as intuitive as its screen is clear. With faultless logic, each occupant gets their own climate controls, on their respective door. And on the centre console you’re drawn to the Active Dynamics panel, the key to the 650S’s versatility. Start the car and Active Dynamics default to the Handling and Powertrain to Normal, the safest of the three settings, regardless of the position of the switch. Push the Active button and the three-position switches go live, as do the Aero (activates the rear wing/airbrake’s active aero) and Manual buttons (switches from auto shifting to manual) within them. Semi-recumbent in the beautifully contoured seats, elegant wheel rim grasped in sweaty paws, this finally feels real.

Running the 650S for six months is the McLaren’s shot at righting a few wrongs. The car launched to critical acclaim and very nearly won our sports car giant test last year. In the final reckoning the 650S Spider claimed bronze, losing out to the Porsche Cayman GTS’s unrivalled value for money and the Ferrari 458 Speciale’s raw, heart-rending brilliance. But the judges raved about the McLaren’s broader remit, its Lotus-esque ride and handling and its mighty torque-rich twin-turbo engine. No-one would dream of running a 458 Speciale as an everyday car, but with its greater refinement, flawless ergonomics and versatile Proactive suspension, the 650S promises to be a supercar you can use like a supermini. Testing that promise is going to be quite a privilege.

With the Nav set to a tasty but ludicrously circuitous route home I click into first and, with a blare of rich V8 noise, pull gently onto the road and into an ordinary Monday afternoon, the McLaren at once as civilised as a Mercedes and as special as a Veyron. I could be very happy here.

Surreally I’m here to pick up a 650S Spider, mine for the next six months, but so distracting is this shrine to Bruce’s fast car legacy that I fear a half-hour job is going to consume the day. Opened earlier this year, McLaren Ascot glows with the same purposeful ambition evident in the Woking firm’s plans for global supremacy. Not all that long ago the 12C was the company’s first wholly McLaren car since the F1. In the four years since the 12C’s launch we’ve had a beautifully judged evolution, 650S, a couple of game-changing hybrid hypercars, P1 and P1 GTR, and more recently the awesome 675LT and aggressively priced 570S. At Ascot the team’s straining at the leash; evangelical about the product, keen to provide the kind of service the cars deserve and fired up by the new era of increased volume 570S will usher in.

You have to hand it to them, they’re good. You could step from your train at Ascot station, stroll the 50 yards between the platform and the UK’s latest McLaren dealership and step through the door completely indifferent to Britain’s pre-eminent supercar maker, but five minutes later you’ll be considering a McLaren Qualified (approved used) 12C, buying the subtly branded weekend bag to slip into its nose and mentally re-decorating the garage at home with Can-Am orange walls, a print of Senna at ten-tenths in his MP4/4 on the wall and a polished stone floor so flawless Ron could check his hair in it.