"What's your favorite car of all time?" is probably the most common question I'm asked as an automotive writer. Without hesitation, my answer is invariably, "The McLaren F1."
The reply comes from my undying admiration for the car's lengthy list of perfectionistic overachievements. In a world of compromises, the F1 remains a pinnacle of purity: everything from its engine bay lined in gold foil (for optimal heat insulation) and fan-assisted ground effects to its 627 hp V12 pushing approximately the weight of a Miata reflects an obsessive design, development, and construction philosophy. It was the first production car with a carbon fiber tub and the most persistent stealer of my automotively inclined heart, replacing emotional icons from Italian and German supercar builders with what seemed to be the ultimate handshake between form and function. Those details-- along with its stunning looks-- make the F1 the four-wheeled equivalent of my Holy Grail.
So when McLaren replaced the 12C with the new 650S shortly after the three digit model's introduction, I looked forward to seeing how it compared from the driver's seat. Though the $287,000 Coupe and $305,500 Spider models are considerably more attainable than the F1 (which ran nearly a million dollars when new, two decades ago), they somehow manage to eclipse the F1's performance, outpacing its standing quarter mile sprint by .6 seconds. Interestingly, not only is the 650S a surprisingly efficient machine (returning a combined 24 mpg on the European cycle), it's also far easier to build than the F1, having cut the man-hours required to assemble the carbon fiber tub from 3,000 to a mere 4 hours.
A day spent slinging the McLaren 650S around Andalucian back roads revealed palpable improvements over the 12C. The 650S is less reliant on patience and strategic braking for turn-in, and manages to rotate even more willingly than the quick turning model it replaces. It's more powerful (to the tune of 25 hp, for a total of 641 horses), and crucially, torque has been boosted from 443 lb-ft to a nice, round 500. Not only does the new model feel like a more finely tuned and capable spinoff, its refreshed bodywork has been tweaked to enable more downforce at speed, along with re-programmed active aero technology that makes it feel more sure-footed during abrupt off-throttle and hard-braking maneuvers.
Are all those improvements enough to unseat the F1 from the top spot in my hallowed mental hall of hypercars?
Despite the fact that none other than Jay Leno once explained to me that it's far easier to live with the 12C than it is the F1, the BMW-engined three-seater will always hold a special place in my subconscious, because it has come to represent far more than the sum of its carbon fiber parts (or the digits on its spec sheet). The 650S is by all means a lusty entrant in the rarified quarter million dollar segment (and a technological marvel that manages to combine extreme performance with everyday usabilty), but in my book its desirability stems just as much from its inherent capabilities as it does from its noble ancestor.
I may never know what it's like to drive an F1, but maybe that's for the best; after all, sometimes your heroes are best left in a mythical realm.