15 Icons that Defined Supercar Driver — Group 1

Looking back, the early 2000s seems like something of a golden era for the supercar. This was a time when the searing naturally-aspirated engines of the past met the paddle-shift gearboxes of the future. When old-fashioned feel and feedback co-existed with performance-enhancing driver aids, and when the idea of buying several supercars simply to earn an ‘allocation’ seemed almost unthinkable.

These five cars were among the heroes of early Supercar Driver events. The Ferraris and the Porsche are raw and uncompromising driving machines, the Lamborghini is a wild wedge of pure exotica and the boundary-pushing Bugatti might be the definitive icon of its decade. The supercars that followed were faster and more sophisticated, but not necessarily more fun. Perhaps we never had it so good.

Ferrari 360 Challenge Stradale

We hear it long before we see it: a flat-plane shriek that cuts the air like a bandsaw slicing through steel. A streak of red appears in the distance, draped from tip to tail in the colours of the Italian Tricolore. Eyeballs stay locked as it sharpens into focus, the atmosphere crackling with a giddy sense of anticipation. The ‘Strad’ has arrived.

The ‘special series’ mid-engined Ferrari now seems like a logical and inevitable part of each new model cycle, but back in 2003, the Challenge Stradale broke thrilling new ground. A faster, more focused version of the 360 Modena, it established a bloodline that stretches through 430 Scuderia, 458 Speciale and 488 Pista — all legends of Supercar Driver’s lifetime.

The Challenge Stradale can trace its roots to the Fiorano Handling Pack, offered during the final year of F355 production. Named after Maranello’s home test track, many Fiorano upgrades came direct from the F355 Challenge Evo racer, including stiffer springs, beefier anti-roll bars and a quicker steering rack. Throw in a wider stance, more powerful brakes and carbon fibre trim, and the outcome was a car that felt equally at home chasing lap times as blasting along a B-road. No wonder that, after the 360 Modena debuted in 1999, this idea escaped the options list to become its own identity.

Even the Strad’s name underlines its dual purpose: ‘Challenge’ being Ferrari’s one-make race series and ‘Stradale’ the Italian word for ‘road’. Launched in 2003, it instantly made the 360 seem more exotic and diverted attention from Lamborghini’s then-new Gallardo. 21 years later, on a Wednesday morning at Donington Park, Supercar Driver member Paul’s Challenge Stradale has stolen the scene all over again.

“I bought it in 2020, mainly so I could take part in Supercar Driver’s Corsa Cavallino tour”, explains Paul. “I already owned a 458 Italia but had always wanted a Strad. Driving it 800 miles around Italy, in convoy with other special series Ferraris, was an experience I won’t ever forget”.

To the man in the street, the Challenge Stradale looks like a 360 with the mother of all go-faster stripes, but its glory lies in lightweight parts and exotic materials. The body shell and panels are mostly aluminium and the floorpan is carbon fibre, while the suspension springs and even the wheel bolts are made of titanium. Motorsport-style sliding Lexan side windows were optional. Inside, the CS went without carpets or a radio, the net result being a dry weight of 1,180kg — a whopping 110kg less than the original car.

With power up to 425hp and the 0-62mph time down to 4.1 seconds, the Challenge Stradale is a completely different animal to its 360 Modena sibling. The 3.6-litre naturally-aspirated V8 might be among the least potent engines here, but it thrives on revs, goading you to chase the 8,500rpm redline at every opportunity. Equally, the single-clutch paddle-shift gearbox, while jarring around town, only adds to the wham-bam drama as your speed and commitment increase.

In contrast to this brutal, headbanging powertrain is a chassis that flaunts its light weight and deftness of touch, the steering seems over-caffeinated at first, while the Brembo carbon-ceramic brakes, borrowed from the Enzo, need a decisive shove. But take time to recalibrate your brain and the Challenge Stradale soon starts to flow, joining the dots with scarcely any sense of inertia. Only in all-guns-blazing Race mode does the ride become jarring, the adrenaline rush almost too intense. Yet with the space and conditions to run free — preferably an empty racetrack — this Ferrari seduces you with its flawless balance and tingly tactility

Paul is rather less equivocal: “On the road, this is the worst car in the world. On the track, it’s the best car in the world. I took it to Cadwell Park recently and hated the journey there. But then it all came together on the circuit and I felt ready to forgive it anything”.

Another of Paul’s notable trips was to the factory in Maranello, where his 360 CS was certified by Ferrari Classiche, a six-week process that investigated its provenance and rubber-stamped its authenticity. “It cost £10,000, but probably adds £20,000 to the value”, says Paul. “Not that I will ever sell it. This is still my dream car”.

Lamborghini Murcielago LP640

For anyone concerned about Lamborghini losing its edge under Audi ownership, the Murcielago dispelled doubts quicker than you could say Sant’Agata Bolognese. A flamboyant style statement powered by a thunderous V12, this was a two-fingered salute to corporate conservatism: a mad, bad Lamborghini of the old school.

It starts with that shape, designed by Luc Donckerwolke, which references the Diablo, Countach and even the Miura (note the louvres shading the mid-mounted engine). A riot of aggressive angles and ravenous air intakes, it was as dramatic as anything drawn by Marcello Gandini. Whether parked on the street or Blu-tacked to a bedroom wall, the Murcielago looked outrageous, almost otherworldly. The passage of time hasn’t dulled its impact.

At launch in 2001, the Lamborghini’s new supercar had a 6.2-litre naturally aspirated V12 that corralled 580 horses at a frenetic 7,500rpm. Driving all four wheels via an open-gate manual ’box or a paddle-shift transmission dubbed E-Gear, the Murcielago could blast to 62mph in 3.8 seconds and reach a top speed ‘in excess of 205mph’. It comfortably outgunned the rival Ferrari 575M Maranello, too.  

Five years later, the facelifted LP640 stretched engine capacity to 6.5 litres and cranked up the headline numbers to 640hp, 3.3 seconds and 211mph, conveniently leapfrogging Ferrari’s then-new 599 GTB. Still current when Supercar Driver was established and a frequent sight at early events, this evolution of the Murcielago also saw Lamborghini’s long-serving quad-cam V12, originally developed by Giotto Bizzarrini for the 350 GT of 1963, enter its twilight years in production. The run-out Murcielago LP670-4 SV of 2009 served as its valedictory final flourish.

Wriggling your hips into a Murcielago merits some trepidation. Lift the trad-Lambo scissor door and the snug cabin feels more like a cockpit. The car’s huge hips fill the door mirrors (watch out for width restrictors!) and rearward visibility is practically non-existent. Twist the key, blip the throttle and the snarling, thrashing V12 feels like a malign presence breathing down your neck. Gulp.

Driving a Countach or Diablo is a physical workout, and downright masochistic in traffic on a hot day. But the Murcielago, perhaps due to the influence of Ingolstadt, proves a much easier Lamborghini to live with. Its steering is full of feedback, the optional Brembo carbon-ceramic brakes feel mighty and four-wheel-drive traction means you can deploy all 487lb-ft with confidence. While hardly a pussycat, the Murcielago isn’t the sabre-toothed tiger its feral soundtrack might suggest.

With space to stretch its legs, the LP640 truly comes alive, its letterbox-sized central tailpipe rasping and bellowing as it piles on speed with gleeful abandon. Its ride is never less than firm, but body control is exceptional, the chassis feeling poised through corners and stable under braking. With enough space (and talent), you can unstick the rear Pirellis and get its tail sliding gracefully, but such antics are best reserved for a circuit. On the road, a Murcielago deserves a healthy amount of respect.

Bradley's immaculate Murcielago LP640 E-Gear is no stranger to Supercar Driver magazine, having been featured in issue 47. “I originally looked at a Diablo — my childhood poster car — but the Murcielago had a few more mod-cons”, explains Brad. “Items like Xenon headlights, electric door mirrors and a hydraulic lift kit just make driving it a bit easier. The Balloon White pearl paint is actually a respray in the original colour by Porsche Centre Hull. It made for the perfect wedding car when I got married”.

Brad has painstakingly researched the Murcielago’s history, tracking down its first owner and obtaining a copy of the original order form from Lamborghini Stuttgart. “I discovered it had been modified by Novitec, with a one-off KW racing suspension kit. I had it stripped down and sent back to Germany for servicing as part of a three-year restoration. It’s been a long process, but I’m so happy with the results — the car looks like new and drives brilliantly”.

Brad has one eye on the Lamborghini as an investment, yet he’s also determined to drive and enjoy it. “I’ve been part of Supercar Driver for three years and have taken the car to Grantley Hall and a couple of the Secret Meets. Every journey in a Murcielago is a special occasion”.

Porsche 997 GT3

Say ‘GT3’ and most people think of a Porsche with a fixed wing, not the FIA racing category its name sprang from. For many of us, a 911 GT3 was the gateway drug that spiralled into supercar addiction, but that isn’t to diminish its importance or allure. For sheer driving excitement, this homologation hero can stand toe-to-toe with anything from Maranello or Woking.

Launched in 2006, the pre-facelift 997.1 was the first GT3 developed from scratch by Porsche GT division boss Andreas Preuninger. If the original 996.1 GT3 was a skunkworks special, and the 996.2 version refined the concept, now the GT3 blossomed into a fully-formed performance car. Yes, a Turbo was faster in a straight line, and the later GT2 is arguably more of an adrenalin rush, but the GT3, with its peaky naturally-aspirated engine and manual gearbox, was a connoisseur’s choice. Eighteen years later, it still is.

Wedged behind the GT3’s back axle is a 3.6-litre, naturally-aspirated, 415hp evolution of the dry-sumped ‘Mezger’ flat-six that had powered Porsche’s 911 GT1 to victory at Le Mans in 1998. Here, in a car tipping the scales at 1,395kg with fluids (exactly the same as a 997.1 Carrera), it’s good for 0-62mph in 4.3 seconds and a top speed of 192mph. More pertinently, with Walter Röhrl at the wheel, the 997.1 GT3 was also nearly 10 seconds quicker around the Nordschleife than its 996.2 predecessor.

While its control weights and responses remain defiantly analogue, the 997.1 GT3 did introduce some fresh technology. There was traction control for the first time, PCCB carbon-ceramic brakes were an (expensive) option and the adjustable rose-jointed suspension featured PASM adaptive dampers, with a choice of Normal or Sport settings via a button on the dashboard. Intuitive yet never intrusive, the new developments conspired to flatter the average driver without condescending to the expert.

A 997 GT3 in full flow is an acute, all-consuming experience. Its hydraulic steering is lucid and direct, while its weighty clutch and ball-topped shifter operate with pump-action precision. Coming out of a corner, you sense the rearward weight bias, the water-cooled six digging its tail down then flinging you forward in a headlong, euphoric rush. The tacho whips around to 8,400rpm with a deep, lupine howl before you hurriedly grab the next gear. Don’t forget to breathe. If supercars are indeed a drug, this one is Class A contraband.

Just as remarkable, though — perhaps even more so — is how damn usable the GT3 is. Its water-cooled six is tractable in traffic, ride comfort isn’t an oxymoron and standard equipment includes air conditioning and an audio system, with most buyers adding the PCM infotainment screen for good measure. Unlike some of its highly-strung rivals, you really could drive this Porsche every day.

The GT3 reinforces its ‘sensible supercar’ case in other ways, too. It flies relatively under the radar (unless you opt for Pure Orange or Viper Green), the lack of rear seats opens up huge luggage space and build quality conforms to every time-honoured Teutonic cliché.

Also, it’s a familiar argument, but this older 911’s modest dimensions (similar in length and width to a current 718 Cayman) are a real boon on narrow British lanes. Where a 992 GT3 driver might proceed with caution, ever-ready to take evasive action, the right-sized 997 scarcely needs to slow down.

Longer-term readers will undoubtedly recognise this particular GT3, which used to be part of the Supercar Driver fleet. Now the property of Tom Atherton, founder of Porsche specialist Weissach UK, it recently served as a backup car on Supercar Driver’s Porsche GT Alpes tour.

As Angelo Apa of Weissach UK explains: “It’s recently been upgraded with a full Nitron suspension kit, which is adjustable via the original PASM suspension settings. Turn-in is amazing and it just feels so agile and planted. We’ve got some further modifications planned, but nothing that conflicts with the original ethos of the car”.

Lastly, why a stock GT3 and not the RS? In truth, we could have chosen either, but the difference between regular and Rennsport versions is less pronounced in the 997 than in later GT3 generations. Both cars have identical power outputs, for instance, and the RS is only 20kg lighter. Nonetheless, as two undisputed icons from Supercar Driver’s history, there are no wrong answers here.

Ferrari 430 Scuderia

In 2004, after a decade at the helm of Scuderia Ferrari, Jean Todt became CEO of the business as a whole. His influence led to a much greater transfer of technology between Formula 1 and Maranello’s road cars, a close connection epitomised by a Ferrari that proudly took its name from the racing team — the 430 Scuderia.

Also in 2004, Michael Schumacher won his fifth consecutive F1 world championship, making him the perfect development driver for the new special series F430. According to Ferrari, ‘Michael Schumacher spent a lot of time testing the 430 Scuderia… carefully applying the method that made him unique on the racetrack for many years’. In particular, Schumi’s work at the Nordschleife helped calibrate the 430’s electronic differential and the settings for its Manettino switch — the latter a direct import from F1.

When the ‘Scud’ finally arrived in 2007, it was as hardcore as we’d dared hope. The basic recipe was similar to the 360 Challenge Stradale — power up by 20hp to 510hp, weight down by 100kg to 1,350kg — but raw numbers only told part of the story. Subjectively, the Scuderia honed and heightened every aspect of the F430 experience, creating a car of feverish and addictive intensity.

Designed by Frank Stephenson (later of McLaren P1 fame), the slab-sided 430 lacks the beauty of a 458 Speciale or visual drama of a 488 Pista. To most people, it looks little different to a stock F430, but the Scud teases the supercar-savvy with clear clues to its added potency. Spot the hunkered-down stance, spidery forged alloy wheels with titanium bolts, Challenge-style mesh rear grille, enlarged diffuser and, of course, the full-length racing stripes.  

Inside, the Ferrari feels ruthlessly fit for purpose. Its door cards and seat shells are naked carbon fibre, while the floor is uncarpeted aluminium chequer plate with visible welds. The dashboard is trimmed in Alcantara, with a net instead of a glovebox and — in the limited edition Scuderia Spider 16M — a factory-supplied iPod Touch to replace the audio system. How many of those are still working, we wonder?

Drop into the deep bucket seat and a vibrant yellow rev counter is dead ahead, its redline marked at 8,500rpm. Your hands grasp a steering wheel with integrated LED shift lights (thank you again, F1) and a Manettino that toggles between five drive modes: Snow/Ice, Sport, Race, CT Off (disables traction control) and CST Off (shuts down stability control as well). Thumb the red start button and the 4.3-litre V8 barks urgently into life, then settles to a fretful idle. If you didn’t already have goosebumps, you definitely do now.

Jump into the Scuderia straight after a Challenge Stradale and what strikes you first is the shift speed. The revised ‘F1 Superfast2’ transmission can swap ratios in 60 milliseconds, compared to 150 milliseconds in its predecessor. It’s also smoother than other single-clutch ’boxes of this era. Acceleration feels linear and utterly relentless as you pass 62mph in 3.6 seconds and — if you have Donington Park to yourself — 124mph in 11.6 seconds. Top speed is 198mph.

While many Ferrari engines sound multi-layered and musical, the Scuderia’s flat-plane V8 is unapologetically raw like a racing car. When its exhaust valves open at 3,500rpm, the metallic snarl hardens into a furious battle cry that fills the sparse cabin and echoes around your head for hours afterwards.

The Scuderia feels much sharper to drive than a regular F430, too. Its steering doesn’t have the flighty, almost hyperactive feel of later Ferraris, but is exceptionally measured and precise. And its chassis — backed by that clever E-Diff and torque-modulating F1-Trac traction control — allows you to be playful on the road, or take reckless, hooligan-level liberties on a circuit, confident in the electronics’ ability to spare your blushes.

This hard-worked Scud is one of ours, having been part of the Supercar Driver fleet since April 2024. It’s a car that infuses even the home-to-office commute with some Schumacher magic, and makes longer road trips and tours feel endlessly exciting. Dare we suggest the 430 Scuderia looks good value amidst other Ferraris of this rarity and pedigree, too? Buy one before the secret gets out.

Bugatti Veyron

Truly great cars, the real game-changers, tend to come from engineers with a singular vision. Think Alec Issigonis and the original Mini, or Gordon Murray and the McLaren F1. In the case of the Bugatti Veyron, it was Ferdinand Piëch who envisaged an all-conquering, 1,000hp ‘hypercar’. And as those who worked for him attest, the mercurial Dr Piëch’s dreams had a habit of coming true.

The grandson of Ferdinand Porsche, Piëch rose through the ranks to become a towering figure in the global car industry. He masterminded the Le Mans-dominating Porsche 917, reinvented Audi as a premium brand — via the Ur-Quattro and rallying glory — and introduced platform sharing for vehicles as diverse as the Skoda Octavia and Audi TT. For those of us who love supercars, however, the Veyron is his lasting legacy.

Piëch wanted the return of Bugatti to be an emphatic statement, one of awesome power and peerless technology, to showcase the engineering prowess of the Volkswagen Group. Named after French racing driver Pierre Veyron, the result delivered brilliantly on his brief. Bugatti hadn’t simply moved the goalposts, it was playing on a different pitch.

Cumulatively, the Veyron’s 8.0 litres, 16 cylinders, 64 valves, four turbochargers, 10 radiators, two clutches and four driven wheels unleash 1,001 metric horses at 6,000rpm, bolstered by a truck-like 922lb-ft of torque from only 2,200rpm. In 2005, that was more than twice the power of a contemporary Porsche 911 Turbo, and 60 per cent more than a McLaren F1. Even contemporary titans such as the Ferrari Enzo and Pagani Zonda trailed in its wake.

Bury your right foot and a Veyron 16.4 could blast to 62mph in 2.5 seconds, passing 124mph (200kph) in 7.3 seconds on its way to a 253mph maximum. At that velocity, you would cover 4.21 miles every minute and empty the 100-litre fuel tank in 12 minutes. Not something we attempted on an intermittently damp day at Donington Park…

Perhaps the most extraordinary thing about the Veyron, though, is how it makes such outlandish performance so accessible. Its luxurious interior, trimmed in buttery leather and machine-turned aluminium, is more akin to a Bentley than a record-breaking road racer, and the combination of plentiful torque with a dual-clutch auto gearbox allows for calm, comfortable progress when mixing with ‘ordinary’ traffic.

To suggest, as some road testers did, that the Veyron is as easy to drive as a DSG-equipped Golf stretches credibility a little, yet it’s no more intimidating or exclusory than an Audi R8, despite the immense forces at work. Its steering feels vividly alert, the damping is relatively supple and the brakes are as reassuringly powerful as you’d hope. Before long, you forget about the seven-figure value and simply start enjoying yourself.

The Veyron isn’t perfect, of course. Bugatti’s W16 isn’t brimming with character, and the car can’t completely disguise its 1,888kg kerb weight. Obviously, a 430 Scuderia or 997 GT3 is a more visceral and rewarding companion on a mountain pass or a track day, but the Veyron has a remarkable breadth of ability. It can dawdle demurely through the city, or dispatch hundreds of motorway miles in a single bound, and as its 20th anniversary looms large, it remains an awe-inspiring achievement.

This particular Bugatti, owned by one of our longest-standing members Surj, is among the earliest of many special editions — a one-of-five Pur Sang (‘Pure Blood’) produced in late 2007. The mechanicals are standard (if that word can legitimately be applied here) but its two-tone body juxtaposes highly polished aluminium and unpainted carbon fibre. Apart from being a photographer’s nightmare — the mirror-like finish reflects everything — it looks incredible, flaunting the Veyron’s taut curves and lasciviously exposed engine. No car generated a greater buzz among the owners at our shoot!

Today, even Lamborghini’s Temerario ‘junior supercar’ boasts in excess of 900hp, while extreme EVs such as the Rimac Nevera and Lotus Evija can double that figure, yet the Veyron remains a line in the sand, a project of such ambition that every subsequent hypercar exists, to some extent, in its shadow.

Perhaps only a man of Ferdinand Piëch’s power, influence and sheer bloody-mindedness could have signed off the Veyron, which reportedly lost the Volkswagen Group around £4.5 million for every one of the 450 examples sold. Still, as we know, truly great cars come from engineers, and certainly not from accountants.

Written by: Tim Pitt