McLaren 675LT - Longtail. Lightweight. Lunacy.
I thought the McLaren MP4-12C was ugly.
There.
I've said it.
When McLaren returned to building road cars and revealed the MP4-12C, the engineering fascinated me.
Carbon-fibre MonoCell.
Twin-turbo V8.
Hydraulic suspension.
592 horsepower.
Ridiculous performance.
Technically?
Extraordinary.
But then I looked at it.
Hmm.
There was something slightly generic about the shape.
A little too clean.
A little too clinical.
Almost as though somebody had asked a computer to draw a mid-engined supercar.
And the computer had responded:
Certainly.
It wasn't offensive.
It just didn't make me feel much.
Then came the 650S.
And suddenly...
Okay.
I see what you're doing.
McLaren took inspiration from the P1 and grafted some of that aggression onto the front of the 12C.
Those headlights.
The more dramatic nose.
More presence.
More McLaren.
Better.
Much better.
Then, in 2015, somebody in Woking apparently walked into the engineering department and said:
Right. Turn everything up to eleven.
And they gave us this.
The McLaren 675LT.
And I have wanted one ever since.
Longtail
Those two letters matter.
LT.
Longtail.
McLaren didn't invent that name for a marketing campaign.
It comes from one of the most extraordinary competition cars in the company's history.
The McLaren F1 GTR Longtail.
In 1997, McLaren substantially reworked the F1 GTR to create a longer, lighter, more aerodynamically efficient racing car.
It became the Longtail.
So when McLaren decided to put LT on the back of a road car nearly two decades later...
That carried some responsibility.
You don't casually borrow letters from the F1 GTR.
You'd better have done something worthwhile.
McLaren did.
Start With a 650S
The basic recipe sounds straightforward.
Take a 650S.
Make it lighter.
Give it more power.
Add downforce.
Sharpen everything.
Done.
Except McLaren changed an enormous amount.
Around a third of the components were different.
The bodywork was extensively revised.
Suspension geometry changed.
The track widened.
Aerodynamics became considerably more aggressive.
The engine received substantial internal changes.
Weight disappeared.
The exhaust became titanium.
And the entire personality of the car changed.
This wasn't simply a faster 650S.
It was McLaren discovering something.
Attitude.
Look at It
Because bloody hell.
Look at it.
This is where my relationship with McLaren's early modern design language completely changed.
The MP4-12C?
Never loved it.
The 650S?
Much better.
The 675LT?
Nailed it.
There isn't a bad angle.
Front three-quarter?
Perfect.
Side profile?
Perfect.
Rear three-quarter?
Oh yes.
Straight from behind?
Good Lord.
The P1-inspired front end finally looks completely at home because the rest of the car has become aggressive enough to match it.
The enormous side intakes.
The exposed carbon.
The extended front splitter.
The sculpted bodywork.
Those delicate flying buttresses.
The longer rear body.
That enormous active airbrake.
And then...
Those exhausts.
We'll get to those.
Walk around a 675LT and something interesting happens.
And no, we're not just talking about the sudden onset of turgidity in your trousers.
There isn't an angle where you think:
Yeah, but it looks better from the other side.
It just works.
Everywhere.
And considering where McLaren started with the 12C?
That's quite the transformation.
The Rear
Actually, no.
We need to stay here for a moment.
Because the rear of the 675LT is spectacular.
Open.
Mechanical.
Functional.
There's mesh everywhere.
You can see through parts of the bodywork.
There's an enormous diffuser underneath.
The rear deck seems shrink-wrapped around the mechanical components.
The airbrake sits above everything.
And then directly in the middle are two beautifully simple circular exhaust outlets.
No fake finishers.
No decorative trapezoids surrounding tiny pipes.
No speakers underneath pretending an engine is doing something it isn't.
Two titanium exhaust pipes.
Engine.
Pipe.
Outside.
Thank you, McLaren.
The Engine
Behind the cabin sits McLaren's 3.8-litre twin-turbocharged V8.
The M838TL.
For the 675LT it produces:
496kW.
700Nm.
675PS.
Hence the name.
But McLaren didn't simply turn up the boost and change the badge.
More than half of the engine's components were changed.
New turbochargers.
Revised cylinder heads.
New exhaust manifolds.
A different camshaft.
Lightweight connecting rods.
Higher-flow fuel delivery.
And that glorious titanium exhaust.
The result was 0–100km/h in around 2.9 seconds.
0–200km/h in approximately 7.9 seconds.
Top speed?
330km/h.
In 2015.
This thing is more than a decade old.
That's ridiculous.
And yet, once again...
Those aren't the numbers I remember.
Turbocharged
The Speciale elsewhere in our Dream Garage is all about chasing revs.
You work your way towards 9,000rpm and the experience builds with you.
The 675LT is different.
There's menace lower down.
You squeeze the throttle.
The turbos inhale.
There's that brief sense of something enormous preparing to happen behind you.
Then...
BOOST.
And the car goes.
Not progressively.
Not politely.
It attacks the road ahead.
There's this enormous surge from behind your shoulders as 700Nm arrives and suddenly whatever point you were looking at in the distance isn't particularly distant anymore.
That's the difference.
The Speciale screams.
The 675LT punches.
And I love both of them for completely different reasons.
The Noise
Turbocharging inevitably changes an engine's voice.
The 675LT doesn't have the soaring, operatic scream of the Ferrari.
It was never going to.
Instead, you get something more mechanical.
More industrial.
More violent.
Induction.
Turbo whistle.
Wastegate.
Exhaust.
Gearshift.
There's activity happening everywhere behind your head.
And then the titanium exhaust gives the V8 this hard-edged bark that fits the car perfectly.
It doesn't sing to you.
It communicates largely through threats.
Excellent.
The Weight
1,230kg dry.
Again.
Read that number.
A carbon-fibre supercar with almost 500kW weighing barely more than some modern hatchbacks.
McLaren removed around 100kg compared with the 650S.
And they went looking everywhere.
Carbon-fibre body panels.
Lighter engine components.
Titanium exhaust.
Polycarbonate engine cover.
Lightweight wheels.
Reduced sound insulation.
Thinner glass.
Simplified interior.
Even the air-conditioning could originally be deleted.
Because apparently being slightly warm was worth a few kilograms.
That is exactly the sort of completely unreasonable thinking I want from the people developing a car like this.
The Seats
Then you climb inside.
Carbon-fibre racing seats derived from the P1.
Alcantara.
Carbon fibre.
Minimal decoration.
You sit low.
Very low.
And the entire cabin seems to wrap itself around you.
There's no enormous touchscreen stretching across the dashboard.
No ambient lighting performing a choreographed welcome sequence.
No digital assistant asking how your day has been.
Good.
I'm sitting in a 675LT.
My day has improved considerably.
The View
And this is something McLaren has always understood brilliantly.
Visibility.
Supercars are supposed to be dramatic, so manufacturers sometimes seem determined to make seeing out of them as difficult as possible.
Not McLaren.
The windscreen is enormous.
The dashboard sits low.
The A-pillars are relatively thin.
You can see exactly where the front corners of the car are.
That matters.
Especially when the road gets interesting.
Because rather than feeling like you're sitting deep inside some enormous exotic machine...
You feel connected to what's happening outside.
The road is right there.
Hydraulic Steering
And then you turn the wheel.
Oh.
There it is.
Hydraulic power steering.
Remember that?
Before electric steering became essentially universal, hydraulic systems communicated through the wheel in a way manufacturers have spent years trying to recreate electronically.
The 675LT's steering is extraordinary.
Not because it's artificially heavy.
Not because it's hyperactive.
Because it talks.
Surface changes.
Grip.
Load.
The front tyres beginning to work.
You feel information coming back through your hands.
Turn into a corner and the car doesn't simply obey.
It tells you what happened.
That distinction matters.
A lot.
The Chassis
This is where the 675LT becomes something much more than a numbers car.
Because McLaren's carbon MonoCell gives it an extraordinarily rigid foundation.
Then there's the interconnected hydraulic suspension.
No conventional anti-roll bars.
Instead, McLaren uses hydraulically linked dampers to control body movement.
The result?
The car can breathe with the road while still maintaining remarkable body control.
And when you're pushing?
It feels alive.
Not nervous.
Not intimidating.
Immersive.
That's the word.
And I know that because...
Well.
We'll get to that.
The Airbrake
Brake hard.
And something wonderful happens behind you.
UP.
The enormous active rear wing rises into the airflow.
Airbrake.
Is it necessary for me to physically see aerodynamic technology operating?
No.
Does watching a huge carbon panel deploy behind you make braking feel approximately 40 per cent more exciting?
Absolutely.
There are cleverer active aerodynamic systems now.
More sophisticated ones.
Systems that quietly move flaps underneath vehicles without anybody ever knowing they're there.
Very impressive.
But sometimes I want engineering to put on a little show.
Hit the brakes.
Wing goes up.
Simple.
Wonderful.
Thank you, McLaren.
Braking
And you'll be using those brakes.
Carbon ceramics.
Massive stopping power.
Very little mass to control.
The 675LT sheds speed with the same violence it gathers it.
Brake.
Downshift.
Turn.
Apex.
Throttle.
Boost.
Gone.
And this is where all the individual pieces start becoming one experience.
Steering.
Chassis.
Brakes.
Throttle.
Gearbox.
Aerodynamics.
They're not competing for your attention.
They're working together.
Immersion
That's what I keep coming back to.
Immersion.
There are faster cars.
Plenty now.
Electric cars can make the 675LT's acceleration numbers look almost ordinary.
That's progress.
But speed alone doesn't create involvement.
The 675LT wants something from you.
You feel the road through the steering.
You hear the turbos working behind you.
You feel the chassis load.
You watch the airbrake rise.
You pull the paddle.
You hear the exhaust crack.
You squeeze the throttle.
You feel boost arrive.
You're involved in everything.
The car doesn't simply transport you quickly through a sequence of corners.
It makes you participate.
And that brings me to something important.
Thanks Again, Mark
Yes.
This is another one.
Just like the 458 Speciale sitting elsewhere in the Dream Garage...
I've driven a 675LT.
Properly.
And once again, I have an extraordinarily successful and extraordinarily generous friend named Mark to thank for it.
At this point, I should probably acknowledge that Mark has been responsible for a completely unreasonable percentage of my formative supercar experiences.
Because handing someone the keys to a car like this is one thing.
Handing them over and allowing them to actually understand why the car exists?
That's generosity on another level.
And I'm incredibly grateful for it.
Because the 675LT was one of those cars I'd already built up in my head.
I'd watched the reviews.
Read about it.
Stared at photographs.
Loved the way it looked.
Wanted one.
And there's always a danger in finally experiencing something you've romanticised.
Sometimes reality can't compete with expectation.
The 675LT could have disappointed me.
It didn't.
Not even slightly.
I Remember the Steering
Of all the things I expected to remember...
The power.
The noise.
The acceleration.
The airbrake.
It was the way the car communicated that stayed with me.
You turn the wheel.
The front responds.
But simultaneously, information comes back.
There's this conversation happening through your fingertips.
Grip.
Surface.
Weight.
Load.
You don't need a graphic on a screen showing what the tyres are doing.
You can feel them.
And the faster you go, the more the car seems to come alive.
That's rare.
I Remember the Size
It didn't feel enormous.
That's another thing.
Modern supercars are getting wider.
Heavier.
More complicated.
The 675LT felt compact around me.
You could place it.
See out of it.
Understand where it was on the road.
That gives you confidence.
And confidence allows you to start exploring.
A little more brake.
A little more corner speed.
A little earlier onto the throttle.
Then...
Boost.
And you're gone.
I Remember Thinking...
This is a driver's car.
Not a supercar designed primarily to generate a spectacular acceleration figure.
Not a luxury car that happens to be extremely fast.
Not something created because a marketing department needed a flagship.
A driver's car.
Everything seemed to exist for the person sitting in that carbon bucket seat.
The visibility.
The steering.
The low weight.
The response.
The suspension.
The brakes.
Even the noise.
Everything feeds information back to you.
And once you start pushing it...
The rest of the world gets very quiet.
That's the Test
I've driven faster cars since.
More powerful cars.
Newer cars.
More expensive cars.
Cars with technology the 675LT couldn't dream of.
But I still remember the McLaren.
That's the test.
It's exactly the same reason the Speciale is in here.
Specifications age.
Acceleration records disappear.
Technology moves on.
Someone builds something faster.
Always.
But the feeling?
If a car gives you the right one...
That stays.
Why the 675LT?
This is where the Dream Garage becomes difficult.
Because if we're putting a McLaren in here...
Why this one?
F1?
Obviously.
P1?
Extraordinary.
Senna?
Insane.
765LT?
Faster.
More powerful.
More aggressive.
And yet...
675LT.
That's the one.
Maybe some of it is nostalgia.
I'll admit that.
The 675LT arrived during a particular period where the modern McLaren story still felt new.
We'd watched the MP4-12C arrive.
Watched McLaren learn.
Watched the 650S evolve.
Then suddenly...
This.
It felt like the moment McLaren's modern road-car division discovered exactly what it wanted to be.
Fast wasn't enough.
Clinical wasn't enough.
Technically brilliant wasn't enough.
It needed character.
The 675LT had it.
Before Everything Became Absurd
And looking back now, its numbers almost seem restrained.
496kW.
700Nm.
2.9 seconds to 100km/h.
Imagine describing that as restrained in 2015.
But that's where we've ended up.
Today, hypercars have four-figure power outputs.
EVs weighing two tonnes can reach 100km/h in the low twos.
Hybrid supercars deploy electric motors to fill every conceivable gap in performance.
And they're extraordinary.
But the 675LT comes from just before everything became completely absurd.
There's enough power to terrify you.
But not so much that the throttle becomes a theoretical device you can only fully use for 1.7 seconds.
There's enough technology to make the car incredible.
But not enough to separate you from it.
There's enough aerodynamic sophistication to generate serious performance.
But you can still see the bloody airbrake working.
I love that.
Our 675LT
Now.
Dream Garage rules.
We need to specify it.
And this is difficult.
Because the 675LT came in some sensational colours.
Chicane Grey.
Silica White.
Napier Green.
McLaren Orange.
But for me?
Napier Green.
If we're doing this...
We're doing it.
This isn't the car for subtlety.
Green.
Dark lightweight wheels.
Carbon everywhere.
Black Alcantara.
P1 carbon racing seats.
Titanium exhaust.
No unnecessary additions.
No aftermarket nonsense.
Exactly as Woking intended.
Garage Door
And imagine the garage now.
There's the M3 CSL.
The 458 Speciale.
And beside them...
That.
Napier Green.
Low.
Wide.
Carbon glinting under the lights.
Those two exhausts sitting high in the rear bodywork.
Walk around it.
Front.
Beautiful.
Side.
Beautiful.
Rear three-quarter.
Jesus.
Keep walking.
Straight behind.
Yep.
Still sensational.
Every.
Single.
Angle.
That's important.
Because sometimes you don't even need to drive a Dream Garage car.
Sometimes you just walk into the garage with absolutely no reason to be there.
Look at it.
Smile.
Walk back inside.
Completely rational adult behaviour.
Sunday
But eventually...
We're taking it out.
Open the dihedral door.
Drop into that carbon seat.
Door comes down.
Everything outside disappears.
Start button.
The V8 fires behind you.
There's that slightly industrial McLaren idle.
Mechanical.
Purposeful.
Pull the paddle.
First.
Ease away.
Let everything warm.
Then find the road.
You know which one.
The road tightens.
Second gear.
Throttle.
The turbos begin breathing.
More throttle.
BOOST.
There it is.
The rear squats.
The horizon comes towards you.
Brake.
Airbrake rises.
Left paddle.
CRACK.
Steering loads.
You feel the front tyres.
Turn.
Apex.
Unwind.
Throttle.
Boost again.
And suddenly...
I'm not thinking about horsepower.
I'm not thinking about 0–100.
I'm not thinking about what a 765LT could do better.
I'm not thinking about what the car is worth.
I'm driving.
Properly driving.
And that's the entire point.
Dream Garage Verdict
The McLaren 675LT didn't have to be beautiful.
The MP4-12C proved I could admire a McLaren without loving the way it looked.
The 650S proved McLaren could improve the formula.
Then the 675LT arrived.
And somehow...
They got everything right.
The aggression.
The proportions.
The details.
The weight.
The steering.
The suspension.
The engine.
The exhaust.
The airbrake.
The theatre.
But most importantly...
The immersion.
That's what I remember from driving one.
Not a number.
Not a statistic.
Not how quickly it reached 100km/h.
I remember how involved I felt.
I remember the steering talking through my hands.
I remember feeling the car working around me.
I remember squeezing the throttle and waiting for that enormous shove from behind.
I remember braking and seeing the airbrake rise.
I remember thinking:
This is what I want a supercar to feel like.
And that's why the 675LT earns its place here.
The Dream Garage isn't a ranking.
It isn't about choosing the objectively fastest version of everything.
If it were, we'd constantly be replacing cars.
675LT becomes 765LT.
Something faster replaces that.
Then something else.
Forever.
No.
The Dream Garage is about the cars that got under your skin.
And this one did.
Long before I drove it.
The MP4-12C arrived and I thought:
No.
The 650S arrived and I thought:
Better.
Then McLaren turned everything up to eleven.
And I thought:
There it is.
Then, thanks to an extraordinarily generous friend, I eventually got behind the wheel and discovered something even better.
It wasn't just beautiful.
It wasn't just fast.
It wasn't just another McLaren.
It was one of the most immersive driver's cars I'd ever experienced.
And years later...
I still remember it.
That's enough.
Actually...
That's everything.
McLaren 675LT.
Napier Green.
Carbon buckets.
Titanium exhaust.
Hydraulic steering.
No modifications.
No excuses.
And just like the Speciale...
This one isn't sitting around waiting to appreciate.
Open the door.
Get in.
Start it.
Let the fluids warm.
Find the road.
Brake.
Airbrake.
Downshift.
Turn.
Throttle.
BOOST.
Again.
And Mark...
If you're reading this?
Thanks, mate.
You cost me a fortune in imaginary garage space.
Thank you, McLaren.
For turning the dial to eleven.