Used McLaren F1 1992-1998 review

Its in-gear performance is similarly stupefying. How does 60-80mph in second in 1.2sec grab you, or 90-110mph in third in just 1.7sec? Or the fact that every single 20mph increment between 30mph and 130mph in fourth is dispatched within a tenth of 2.2sec? It doesn’t slow much in fifth either, every increment between 30mph and 160mph taking 3.0sec flat or less. But it is sixth, geared to allow the car to reach beyond 230mph, that stretches belief beyond breaking point.

Our standard measure for top gear flexibility, aimed at cars with maximum speeds of about half the McLaren’s, is 50-70mph. The F1 covers the ground in 3.7sec, blitzing the next fastest production car we have tested (the TVR Griffith 500) by 1.7sec. 

For its flexibility, throttle response and power alone, this V12 would probably wrest the title of world’s best engine from the Ferrari 512 TR. But the sound it makes puts the issue beyond doubt. Smooth, subtle and, above all, quiet when you want it to be, the F1 gives everything you have ever wanted from an engine note when the throttle is opened wide. 

Full throttle at 60mph in sixth produces a noise closer to that of the Mustang in Bullitt, only louder. It’s a growling crackle that bores into your brain at just the glorious side of painful. Drop four gears and repeat the exercise and only those who have seen the film Le Mans or were present at endurance races in the early 70s will have any inkling of the complexity and savagery of its utterly pure V12 howl. It is the finest noise any of us here have ever heard from a production road car. 

If there is room to carp in this section, the F1’s ultra-quick gearbox attracted mild criticism from some who drove it. No one argued about the ratios which, apart from the necessarily long sixth, are stacked as close as you could wish, but many felt that a touch more weight and a shade less travel in the admittedly short-throw lever would have been more in keeping with the F1’s character. 

One tester also observed that, for the money, a sequential box could be expected; others preferred the convenience of skipping gears that a conventional gate and the monster torque allow. 

At a more mundane level, reverse proved unusually tricky and frequently impossible to engage without several attempts, although slotting briefly into second gear before attempting reverse did improve the situation.

We don’t quibble with the McLaren’s ultimate stopping power though even its huge ventilated discs and four-pot monobloc callipers have their work cut out reining in its power. But despite McLaren’s best efforts, we would like more feel through the pedal, which only bites hard if you tread hard. And tread hard you must because, with no servo, even mild deceleration requires twice the pedal effort of a conventional car. 

And while we admire the aims behind omitting power assistance and anti-lock brakes from the specification – weight reduction and feel retention – we think for a road car of this potential, the F1 would gain more from their presence than their deletion.

If we tell you that the F1 handles as well as it goes, you’ll have a good idea of the esteem in which we hold this car’s chassis. The first words from the lips of all who drove it spoke of accessibility, how mere mortals could climb into this machine for the very first time and drive it hard despite its power, despite its price. 

Although it is firmly sprung, there is body roll through corners but, as you sit in line with the roll-centre, you scarcely feel any of it. The steering, which loads up dramatically and undesirably with lock at urban crawl speeds, comes alive on proper roads. 

Grip through slow corners is not limitless, allowing you to spot a safe, open road ahead, turn towards the apex with just a whiff of understeer detectable through the steering and power slide this half-million pound car away from the apex with the abandon you might feel safe to exhibit in a small sports car that’s perhaps 30 times cheaper. 

Four factors combine to create this extraordinary state of affairs. First there is the steering: quick, lucid and as successful an example of kick-back elimination while retaining feel as we’ve experienced. Next is the on-limit behaviour. If you wish you can exploit the F1’s traction – a brief look at the acceleration figures from rest will show you how well McLaren has done here – or you can tread a little harder, feel the tail start to move, replicate that movement with the steering for as long as your right foot dictates and watch while it straightens and streaks up the road ahead. 

In the dry, there is no trace of malice in this chassis. When it’s wet, the tail, predictably, moves more swiftly, but so long as you are prepared to match that speed, the F1 will remain faithful. 

The third and fourth factors are what really splits the F1 from the likes of the Ferrari F40, Bugatti EB110 and, particularly, the XJ220. It is compact, allowing you to exploit its performance on many more roads than the others. But, crucially, it is powered by a large capacity, naturally aspirated engine, not a small, turbo unit. 

Hence throttle response is not only immediate, but also reliable. You get what you ask for when you squeeze the accelerator, something which, with the best will in the world, you cannot say about the aforementioned supercars. 

In faster bends, the F1 does the only thing a sane person could hope for on the public road. It grips. It goes beyond merely rounding curves accurately at high speed; whatever you throw at it, from an off-camber corner on a crest to a sequence of left-right sweeps creating ever-increasing g-force transference, it simply does what its told, displaying a level of adhesion we never came close to broaching anywhere but on track. 

In our experience, only the XJ220 approaches such levels of gilt-edged grip and security in its body control over the most challenging roads this country has to offer. 

The F1 is firmly sprung but, thanks in the main to the way it allows longitudinal wheel movements to absorb the shock of country road lumps, its ride quality in such conditions is wonderous. If superb poise and apparent imperviousness to most surface imperfections were the only consideration in this class, we would have awarded the McLaren the full five stars.

We’ve marked it down because it feels less composed on the motorway. It has a slightly jittery attitude to coarse and especially concrete surfaces which, while never much more than an increase in feel through the steering, contrives to be wearing after a couple of hundred miles.