If the claims that are being made about it are true, this is the fastest road car on Earth. Jeremy Clarkson took the oddly named Koenigsegg to the TG track to see if it’s true. Driving for TV is one of the most brutal things you can do to a car. You have to go faster and harder than you thought possible. Then you have to do it again because the director thinks “more tyre smoke would be nice”. Thus, the TG test track is a killer; after a day there, most cars are carted away on lorries. So, no-one held out much hope for the Koenigsegg - it’s a supercar, and supercars are notoriously brittle. And it’s Swedish.
Before we even started, the aircon packed up and left town with the traction control. But despite several max speed runs and enough doughnuts to keep the NYPD happy for a year, it was still going strong.
It was still working at 4.40pm when we handed over the keys to the Road Test Editor of this magazine. All he had to do was strap on his timing equipment and tell us how quickly it would go from 0 to 150mph.
But 20 feet down the road, the belt that drives the supercharger snapped and the engine shut down. This means we still don’t know if the claims made about this car are true.
We’ve seen stories saying that a Koenigsegg was timed in Texas at 220mph; that at the Nardo high-speed bowl, in the rain, it reached 237mph. We’ve heard that it will do 0-60 in under 3.5secs and keep on going all the way to 245. If this is true, the Koenigsegg is the fastest road car in the world.
Consider the evidence. With a dry weight of 1.1 tonnes, it’s lighter than a McLaren F1. With a drag coefficient of .30, it’s more aerodynamic than a McLaren F1. And with 655bhp hitting the rear wheels, it’s more powerful than a McLaren F1.
Certainly, it’s the fastest car we have ever tested at the TG base. At the end of the runway, it was doing 174mph - 4mph more than the Pagani Zonda. And The Stig barrelled it round the track in 1min 23secs - the same time as he did it in the Zonda.
When you read the Koenigsegg brochure, carbon fibre, from which the entire car is made, is called ‘autoclaved epoxy preimpregnated carbon fibre’ and it talks about how the chrome molybdenum sub-frame is mounted to a true semi monocoque. You therefore imagine that the car’s going to be a bit techy. It isn’t. The engine block is an American Ford racing V8, but is made in Italy. Then it’s transferred to Sweden where it’s bored out.
Initially there’s an uncouth raucousness, but when you’re past 6,000rpm, it’s not like being in a car any more. It’s like being strapped to one of the top-10 noisiest machines ever.
Interestingly, for a supercharged car, the faster you go, the harder it charges. This is due to a ram jet effect in the intakes, but there’s no time to think about that because I see a corner coming.
Into fourth and third. The engine screams the scream of a dying foundry as the revs climb to 8,000. There’s a hint of understeer, but it’s nothing more than a chopped chive in a salad of other sensory inputs.
Worryingly, you also don’t notice the rear is coming round until you’re looking out the side window. With huge effort, you wrench the wheel, catch the slide, apply some power and, for the first time in a while, you smile. I liked the Koenigsegg.
I liked the way that the roof stows in the boot. I loved the Tempur seat padding, which was designed by Nasa to absorb g forces when the Shuttle blasts off. I liked the airbag and the high score the car got in its crash tests.
But would I buy one? No. It doesn’t have the attention to detail of a McLaren F1 and I’m not sure that American hamburger technology is a match for the delicacy you get from a Ferrari or even a Lambo.
The closest rival - well, they both cost over £300,000 - has to be the Zonda and that would be my choice, not least because it feels finished.
With the Koenigsegg, I want a little more warning when the rear is about to break away and I want lighter steering.
When these things are done, I look forward to driving it again. It’s always nice to thunder into the Hammerhead at 100mph, with smoke pouring from the tyres and your ears bleeding. But the fun wears thin if it makes you feel like Alec Guinness, in that Japanese sweat box.
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Contributor's Note
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