If one thing has struck us about the 12C
over the last six months, it’s how easily this six hundred horsepower, quarter
of a million quid, mid-engined supercar has fitted into life. As a breed,
supercars, especially ones with doors that open at funny angles, are truculent,
intimidating and irritable things. Yes, even in this day and age. But the only
compromise demanded by the 12C is some spinal flexibility to fold yourself
around the aforementioned doors.
The
McLaren 12C Spyder has extraordinary pace and handling, but is a touch clinical
Oh, and forgiveness of the various issues
and faults. Yes, these are still ongoing, two months after an overhaul at
Woking. New pads did not cure the squeaky brakes, the rear suspension still
clonks when cold and the electrics, although much better, sometimes have a
momentary hissy and IRIS makes a mess of her screen. This can’t help but
undermine our faith in the car.
It’s a shame, as these more superficial
hiccups are so totally at odds with the habitability and usability that run
through the McLaren’s veins. It rides supremely well, the view forward is
panoramic, it’s easy to place accurately on the road, it’s not too big, it’s
comfortable, quiet, relaxing and reassuring. It’s proving to be exceptional
daily transport.
The
interior designers have created a luxurious, spacious cabin that dresses
advanced acoustic and electronic technologies
So we treated it to a spring clean. And in
so doing, finally discovered something beside a photographer’s Peli case that
doesn’t fit in either front boot or rear tonneau compartment. A large pressure
washer. Surprising, since two kids can be slotted into the forward hold. The
12C is a time-consuming car to clean – there are so many surfaces and nooks and
crannies where grit gets trapped and dirt gathers. But ably assisted by my two
‘helpers’, it was soon spick and span.
So I took Luke, my youngest, for a drive.
And because it was a nice day, as we pottered up the road we put the roof down.
It’s nice to be able to do that on the move. There was a soft thump. We looked
at each other. I looked in the mirror, and there, rolling back down the road
was one of the rolled-up bags that live under the tonneau. A car coming up the
hill behind me drove clean over the top of it. I know it was mounted securely,
but it’s not really locked in place and must’ve slipped out. That was a new
one. It summed up the minor slips that we’re having to tolerate with the 12C.
Exhaust
note is more noticeable roof-down, making the drive even more dramatic
But somehow I still feel real affection for
it, maybe because these foibles do give it some character, but probably
because, besides being versatile and friendly, it’s also eyes-on-stalks fast
when the mood takes you. Properly deranged. The twin-turbo’s top end really is
something else. And it’s so poised, flat and neat on the road. It’s enough to
make me forgive McLaren for making this car obsolete with the fumbled arrival
of the 650S.
