What It Is An SUV, but don’t call it that. McLaren prefers the term “shared performance vehicle” because you can share the supercar-on-stilts experience with more than just one passenger. It will be a first for the British company, which has only ever made two-door exotics and has sworn off SUVs in the past. We expect it to be aimed squarely at the Ferrari Purosangue, the other not-SUV in the conversation, rather than the honest and straightforward Aston Martin DBX and Lamborghini Urus, which are definitely SUVs.
Why It Matters McLaren needs to make more money, ASAP. After years of poor sales, financial struggles, and multiple ownership changes, the company is finally ready to concede its anti-SUV stance and follow the model pioneered by Porsche nearly a quarter-century ago. If successful, the SUV would sell in much higher volumes than the other McLarens and in turn fund the supercars’ continuing existence
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in a Bugatti Chiron Super Sport
Going that fast in a Chiron ain’t as easy as it sounds.Jonny LiebermanWriter
James LipmanPhotographerJun 19, 2023
Fast.
Such a funny idea. I traveled to Florida to attempt to drive 400 kph in a Bugatti Chiron Super Sport . That’s about 250 miles per hour—precisely 248.548 for the always-a-tree, never-a-forest types. But the Airbus A321 I flew to Orlando on has a cruising speed of 544 mph. Earth rotates faster than 1,000 mph at the equator. Our planet travels through space while orbiting the sun at more than 67,000 mph. As Einstein might well have explained, fast is relative.
What matters is that Bugatti lined up a space shuttle runway so I had a little more than 2 miles of acceleration space and then 4,000 feet to whoa down the car from what would be, should be, the fastest I’d ever driven. Bugatti performed straight-line aerodynamic testing with Johnny Bohmer Proving Grounds LLC at Space Florida’s Launch and Landing Facility at Kennedy Space Center. Before this outing, I’d topped 200 mph a handful of times, my best being an indicated 207 mph in a Lamborghini Huracán Performante on the other space shuttle runway, in California. This Bugatti run would be much faster, reaching speeds only a handful of people have ever done.
The Chiron Super Sport produces 1,578 horsepower from its tried, true, and still awesome 8.0-liter quad-turbo W-16 engine. Plus 1,180 lb-ft of torque. Had we been on a longer runway, it might have been possible to aim for the Super Sport’s top speed of 273 mph. True, Bugatti makes an even faster car, the Chiron Super Sport 300+ , which British legend Andy Wallace drove to nearly 305 mph.
For this 250-mph attempt, Bugatti brought test drivers Jamie Morrow and Pierre-Henri Raphanel to figure out the safest way to break the 400-kph barrier. Although the runway appeared to offer plenty of margin, there was a good tailwind, and some gaps in the trees toward the “shutdown” point meant we could also get some crosswind. At speeds like these, the pro drivers warned, the normally planted-like-an-oak Chiron can get pushed around.
Why was I doing this? The downside is possible violent death, massive injury, or having to deal with smashing a $4 million hypercar to pieces. The upside is the ability to say I’ve driven a car 250 mph. That’s pretty dang sweet and all, but is the juice worth the squeeze?
I had to answer in the affirmative. The idea of top speed has fascinated me for decades. I remember in 1987 when the Ferrari F40 was the first production car to (kinda) break 200 mph—Ferrari said the successor to the 189-mph 288 GTO could reach 201 mph—besting the Porsche 959’s 197 mph Vmax . Independent testing never saw the F40 crack 199 mph, but Porsche swung back anyway, and the
959 S managed 211 mph. Then the Ruf Yellowbird hit 213 mph. Amazing.
Even more amazing, in 1992 the McLaren F1 showed up, and a new king was crowned, as the production version achieved an astonishing 221 mph. But wait! In March 1998, a slightly modified F1 with its redline raised from 7,500 to 8,300 rpm and the aforementioned Wallace fella behind the wheel set a two-way average of 240.1 mph, with a 243-mph peak speed in one direction.
I feel like the car world had just dogmatically taken the McLaren F1’s top end as fait accompli. Cars—at least not production cars—wouldn’t ever go any faster. After all, geeks knew the gears and engine had to be fussed with to achieve that 240.1-mph “record.” Because it was such a lofty, loony number that could only be achieved by a pro driver on the VW Group’s secret Ehra-Lessien test track with its legendary 5-mile-long straights, the McLaren’s accomplishment would stand forever.
Then came the Veyron . More than a moonshot, the 987-hp, 16-cylinder monster was the id, ego, and will of VW chairman Ferdinand Piëch, distilled in a crucible of utter unbelievability. In April 2005, the car smashed through the 400-kph barrier at Ehra-Lessien, hitting 407, or 253 mph. Whoa. Other cars have gone faster since, but what the Veyron did still shocks me. Yes, definitely, absolutely I wanted to experience Piëch’s fever dream above 400 kph.
The plan for the day was simple: I’d be a passenger for one run, where Morrow would take the Chiron up to 150 mph to let me feel how he wanted the braking to happen. Not reverse rocket science, exactly, but it was like this: Quickly lift off the throttle, go firm but not too hard on the brakes, and then build pressure to the point just before the ABS kicks in. In other words, make a big stop, not a panic stop. The Chiron Super Sport is incredibly stable, and to demonstrate this fact, Raphanel did a full stop (with Morrow as passenger) from 250 mph with his hands off the wheel . I should be just fine.
We swapped seats, and I floored it for an identical 150-mph recce run. All four turbos took a moment to begin spinning and spitting, and then, boom, the Chiron Super Sport rocketed down the space shuttle runway. The crazy thing about every modern Bugatti I’ve ever driven (including two EB110s) is how calm they are when doing ridiculous things. Case in point, the Chiron Super Sport hits 124 mph in 5.8 seconds, so Morrow and I were at this run’s top speed after about 7 seconds. And we had about 9,500 more feet of ground to cover. Rather than set the cruise control, I tried to just maintain the throttle with my foot and listen as Morrow said things to me. Yes, at 150 mph you can have a conversation inside a Chiron. I looked down and realized the speed had increased to 179 mph without me knowing it. What a beast, but braking to a stop from there was without event.
Next would be a 200-mph attempt with Morrow still in the passenger seat. I saw an indicated 206 mph, but everything seemed as easy and uneventful as the slower run, with one slight difference: We put the Chiron into Top Speed mode. Like in the Veyron before it, you insert a second key just aft of the parking brake control below the driver’s left hip. With the transmission in drive, you pull the right shift paddle once to select first gear and then twist the key a quarter turn counterclockwise. The right side of the dash displays “Ettore Bugatti” in a fancy font, while the left side reads “Top Speed.”
Physically, the Super Sport lowers itself on its hydraulic suspension, stows the hydraulically actuated rear wing to cut drag, and again uses hydraulics to move two flaps near the front wheels to further reduce drag. The car’s computer then checks everything out—including the tires—before it allows you to launch. Once you do so, the computer takes over the shifting duties.
We were told to keep the cars between 100 and 125 mph on the return run, just to get enough air through all the radiators to cool the mechanical stuff and to keep tire temps up. I noted how uneventful 200-plus mph felt; normal supercars reach that point and run out of steam, juice, and thrust. The Chiron felt normal, like it was jogging or something. “Understressed” might be a better way to describe it. The Super Sport hits 200 mph in less than 16 seconds, so we again had a lot of time cruising, this time at just more than 200, probably a mile’s worth. Braking from that speed was also a nonevent.
My confidence was high, and I began running through the checklist the pros gave me. The big one was not to look down at the speedometer. At 250 mph the car covers 367 feet per second; a football field is 360 feet long. We’re in Florida, so alligators and big birds are often on the runway. In fact, before each run, something called “bird cannons” are fired to scare them off. Toward the end of the previous 206-mph jaunt, Morrow and I saw three big white cranes flying in formation about 20 feet above us. The pros instructed us to keep our helmet visors down, as a 250-mph bird strike can be fatal if the animal comes through the windshield and your visor is up. And running over a gator at 250 mph? Let’s just be thankful it didn’t happen.
Morrow is not in the car for my 250-mph attempt. “Mate, I’m not paid enough.” Fair. Back in Top Speed mode, I bury the throttle, the four turbos begin feeding all 16 cylinders, and once again the Chiron is off like an angry, elegant rocket—until 150 mph, when it suddenly stops accelerating. I look down. “Check left tyre pressure.” (The Bugatti apparently thinks it’s British.) I turn around and begin driving back to the starting area. I see all the other “tyres” are sitting at about 49 psi, whereas the left front has crept to more than 50 psi. The Bugatti team drops the pressures on all four, and now the Super Sport thinks the tires are too low and it refuses to go into Top Speed mode. There’s no air compressor on the runway. A plane needs to land, and the heat is coming out of the tires. A new wait begins.
About 45 minutes later I’m back in the Chiron Super Sport, tires sorted and Top Speed mode activated, and I get the thumbs-up to go. I push the gas pedal against the firewall. The big W-16 spins, waiting a tick while the four turbochargers begin recirculating the exhaust gases back through 32 inlet valves into the waiting half-liter cylinders and then, kaboom . I’m off like a cannonball in a vacuum.
Everything seems smooth and hiccup-free. I keep my eyes up, away from the speedometer, and just look for the two big flags to tell me when to lift and get on the brakes. I feel the crosswind during the last few seconds, but it’s mild. And just like that, my run’s over. I pump my fist in victory as I cruise back at 120 mph (which feels incredibly slow), thinking I cracked both the 400-kph and 250-mph barriers. Nothing bad happened, I and the $4 million car are in one piece, and I’ll be able to see my son’s face the next morning.
Except I only hit 245 mph. A whole 5 mph short. Oh, boy. Did I lift? No, don’t think so. Did the Chiron make full power? Yes, more than full, actually—1,593 hp, 15 more than advertised. What happened? Dunno. Well, let’s try it again.
Raphanel wants a word before I set off again. When I was done braking on the previous run, how much runway did I have left, he asks? Plenty, at least half a mile. He nods and says it’s OK if I go past the flags. Makes sense to me.
This time I pay extra-special attention to keeping my right foot pinned. It is. Despite the previous warning, when I see the approaching flags, I look down and see 240 mph. Not quite enough. Worse, the wind is pushing the Chiron around, and I have to make a steering input I know in my gut is too big given the conditions. I look again and see 243 mph. I see the flags. I keep the throttle pinned. I’m staring at 243 mph, and it’s not going higher. One, two, three seconds. I’m more than 1,000 feet past where I’m supposed to have braked. I’m also aware the tires aren’t particularly happy doing two 240-plus-mph runs back to back. I abandon my pursuit. Didn’t get there. There’s talk of me having another go on fresh tires after lunch, but Florida being Florida, a lightning storm appears and lasts until I must leave for the airport.
To find out what went wrong, we spoke to Johnny Bohmer, the Guinness World Record holder in the standing mile and owner of Johnny Bohmer Proving Grounds, which leases airstrips for high-performance testing. He said even a slight crosswind saps 5 mph, and the more the car gets battered around, the slower it accelerates; the crosswind creates low pressure on the opposite side of the car, which in turn creates vortices that create drag. I spoke with Morrow the next day (Bugatti owners were there making their 400-kph attempts), and he said the car I drove sometimes hit 250 mph and sometimes only 245, depending on the wind. Bohmer’s theory seemed accurate.
So no, I did not hit 250 mph. The Vbox data recorder showed my Vmax was 245.31 mph, or 395 kph, 98.75 percent of what I’d set out to do. I was crushed. For about a day it felt like failure. I texted friends, letting them know how rotten I felt. Each and every one came back with some version of, “You just went 245 mph. That’s awesome!” It took me a week or so to realize they were correct. Besides, perhaps now Bugatti will let me have another go.
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
Hot Pursuit: Gunning For 250 MPH in Bugatti’s Chiron Super Sport
The Bugatti Tourbillon’s Interior Might Be as Awesome as Driving It
The cabin of the Chiron’s successor is an intricate work of art.Aaron GoldWriterDarren MartinPhotographer
Jun 20, 2024
When it comes to Bugatti’s upcoming Tourbillon supercar, there is much to get excited about: V-16 engine, drool-inducing styling, 276-mph top speed, $4.3-million price tag. But the cabin is where a lucky few will interact with this amazing machine, and believe you us, it’s worth its own individual flip-out. It’s nicer, even, than the cabin of the Chiron it replaces. Why don’t you open the scissor door, slip behind the wheel, and soak it all in?
Clockwork Tourbillon
As you settle behind the wheel, you’ll find yourself surrounded by fine leather (doesn’t it smell wonderful?), carbon fiber, metal, and a hundred elaborate details to catch your eye. Simple though the cabin is, at first glance, it’s a bit overwhelming. “Tourbillon” is a type of intricate wristwatch mechanism, and that’s the theme: intricate details and clockwork precision.
That’s wristwatch, not smartwatch, and do you notice what you don’t see? Yep, no screen. There is one, but it’s hidden away in the center stack, only to be deployed when needed. “Screens date an interior,” Bugatti design director Frank Heyl said, and he’s right. After all, which would you rather have, an antique wristwatch or an antique laptop?
Everything Comes to You
You’re looking for the seat adjustment controls, aren’t you? Sorry, Charlie, there aren’t any. The seat is fixed to the floor; it’s the pedals and steering column that move. This isn’t some cheap-ass half-million-dollar Rolls-Royce, my friend; for $4 million, the mountain comes to you.
As you adjust the steering wheel, give it a twitch, and you’ll see one of the Tourbillon’s coolest details: The wheel rotates around the steering column. Ettore Bugatti’s magic initials on the hub always stay right-side up. What’s that? Why yes, that’s right, the 1958 Edsel did have the same feature, but that’s not something we talk about in polite (or Bugatti’s) company.
Instead, have a look at the gauge pod attached to the top of the column. All those little gear wheels aren’t just there for show; they move as the gauges rotate, and they’re milled to a precision that ensures instant response, which is no mean feat given the rev-happy V-16 behind you and how fast it’ll twist that speedometer. Of course, at the speeds this baby can generate, you won’t want to stare at the gauges any more than you have to. Nor will you want to take your hands off the wheel, which is why the drive-mode and hybrid control dials are on the column, as well.
Instant Familiarization
But for now, while we’re still stationary, take in that see-through center stack, detailed with sapphire glass. Here you are, with all of two minutes’ time behind the Tourbillon’s wheel, and you can figure out all the controls, can’t you? Top dial for stereo, climate control below that, chassis and door controls, and the parking brake. Who says modern high-end cars need to be complex? The Tourbillon is as straightforward as that analog watch on your wrist.
Look at the pedal box. Accelerator, brake, footrest; small, simple, elegant, and beautiful. That’s what this kind of money gets you—attention to detail in the most unlikely places.
Not that the Tourbillon’s cabin is a throwback; not at all. Look over your shoulder at that lovely light bar that divides the interior. It’s a modern-day homage to the dorsal fin of the classic Type 57S Atlantic. It’s also a subtle reminder that there are drivers and there are passengers, and there is a divide. You’re the driver, and this is your domain.
Driven! If Hypercars Were Video Game Characters, the Bugatti Mistral Is the Final Boss
Just your average $6,000,000, 282-mph topless French car.Jonny LiebermanWriter
ManufacturerPhotographerAug 06, 2025
Driven! If Hypercars Were Video Game Characters, the Bugatti Mistral Is the Final Boss
2027 Bugatti Tourbillon First Look: The Chiron’s Successor Is a 1,775-HP Plug-In Hybrid
From the Press Room: the Bugatti Centodieci
Behind the Wheel: the 2015 Bugatti Veyron Grand Sport Vitesse
We Drive the Bugatti Chiron Sport and Chiron Pur Sport
As you exit the roundabout a few hundred feet from the entrance to Bugatti’s factory and headquarters in Molsheim, France, you will spot a gaggle of people standing around. Most are quite young, all are male, and each is holding some sort of camera. They ignored me when I first arrived because I was driving a rental Audi Q3. However, I quickly became the center of their world as we drove out in a gorgeous, roofless, exposed-blue carbon fiber Bugatti Mistral.
Later, when our crew returned to shoot some video of the Mistral on the beautiful property, I noticed a few car spotters had figured out what we were up to and ran to catch images through a wrought iron fence. Now I know how Willy Wonka felt.
Andy Wallace, the famed Le Mans winner and the (asterisked) production car top-speed record-holder (304.773 mph in a Bugatti Chiron 300+), assured us this is a daily occurrence, rain or shine. Why do they wait? While Lamborghini or Ferrari build thousands and thousands of cars a year, Bugatti produces just 85. Even at Molsheim, catching a moving Bugatti is rare. The Mistral, which we were given the almost unheard-of opportunity to drive, has a production run of just 99 cars.
Every road-legal Bugatti (the track-only Bolide cannot be driven on public roads) undergoes around 250 shakedown miles before customer delivery. However, the cars are meticulously wrapped in thick plastic to guard against the elements. Seeing an unwrapped Bugatti like the 24,000-plus-mile engineering mule I drove is a very rare event.
Like every Bugatti built since 2005, the Mistral employs a version of the 8.0-liter quad-turbo W-16 powerplant first seenin the Veyron 16.4. Twenty years ago, in the OG Veyron 16.4, this powerplant produced a minimum of 989 hp (almost every Bugatti engine produces more power than advertised). The Mistral uses the same engine as the Chiron Super Sport and 300+, so that’s at least 1,578 hp and 1,180 lb-ft of torque. Andy commented that the unusual, relatively cool late July temperature meant that our car would be producing big power. A quick full throttle blast and the onboard computer told us we had 1,610 PS—1,588 hp—underfoot. That will do.
“The Noise”
“Fourth gear is the best way to make it happen,” Andy tells me. We had just heard, “the noise,” a Mistral signature sound you only get in the topless roadster. I’d coaxed it forth by accident by smoothly accelerating in third gear down an on ramp. We’re now doddering along with traffic on a quiet stretch of freeway a few miles from Molsheim. I selected fourth gear by clicking the left paddle a few times. “Now, floor it.” The Mistral’s W-16 packs two different-size turbochargers. The two little ones operate below 4,000 rpm, the two big’uns above.
I should also note that unlike the Chiron, the Mistral has two massive cold air intakes just inches from its occupants’ heads. If you’re driving, it’s just behind your right ear. By purposely inducing a bit of lag, there’s a way to trick the motor into suddenly snapping awake the two larger turbos. You hear a sharp, metallic click that’s quickly followed by what sounds like the roar of a hurricane. It only lasts a beat or two, but it’s one of the greatest noises in the automotive kingdom. Suddenly, the Mistral is consuming 1,000 liters of air per second while hurtling forward. All you can do is hold on and smile.
Best Bug?
Were the road straight and long enough, the roofless Mistral could hit 282 miles per hour. Wallace achieved this exact velocity in November of 2024 at the ATP Automotive Testing facility in Papenburg, Germany. To underline it, Andy went 282 mph with no roof. The Mistral is a true roofless roadster, not a convertible. Yes, there is a silly, glorified umbrella that a Mistral owner can clip on in case of rain. But let’s be honest; there’s no roof.
The Mistral is all the better for it. I’ve been fortunate enough to drive a number of Veyrons and Chirons and the Mistral bests them all, including the targa-topped ones. By being a true roadster, there’s less between your ears and the guttural, 8.0-liter beastly engine.
There’s just no other sound like a Bugatti W-16 at full trot, and the Mistral is the best way to enjoy this rare experience. Drilling down on the rare part, the Mistral has been reengineered to the point that Bugatti counts it as its own model. Like the 40 Divos and 40 Bolides, the 99 Mistral examples do not count against the 500 Chirons that Bugatti built between 2016 to 2024.
Even though all cars just mentioned share the same basic carbon fiber tub, to ensure not just rigidity but the overall quality that Bugattis are rightly renowned for, the Mistral’s tub and subframes have been thoroughly reworked. The result is a chassis that provides the type of elegance, handling, and velocity the born-again French brand is known for.
It’s almost as notable how well the Mistral shields its occupants from the wind. Even at well past license-revoking speeds, my baseball hat didn’t budge. Moreover, Andy and I were able to chat at a normal volume. “What was this thing like at 282 mph?” I ask, dipping my toe into the triple digits. “About like this,” he laughs.
I’ve long found that what separates modern Bugattis from everything else is their stability. Many cars these days accelerate as quickly, if not quicker. But none feel like they’re on roller tracks. None completely maintain their composure during heavy braking. None feel like a hot-rodded Rolls-Royce Phantom. Bugattis do. There’s just an extra layer of composure, a gracefulness simply absent from other super- and hypercars. There’s no squat, no lean, no shudder, no nothing. Some might complain that Bugattis are too isolated. They’re wrong.
Carve ’Em Up
We followed the perfect French weather to an excellent mountain road Andy knew about. You might not think of Bugattis as canyon carvers, but the big beasts are quite happy slicing and dicing. We spent the next couple hours tearing up and down the mostly deserted country road. The sound of the big, boosted 16-cylinder was even more fun here, blasting into and echoing from a verdant French forest.
And oh, the ride quality. Y can see the road imperfections you’re about to drive over, but the Mistral’s magical suspension ensures you don’t feel them. Yes, the stupefying levels of power are staggeringly awesome, but should you let off the gas for just a moment you’re treated to one of the best luxury experiences in motoring. This is the alchemy of the Mistral. It will touch 282 mph when the mood strikes, but it’s calm, comfortable, and elegant the rest of the time. I told Andy we should go wine tasting. That was the vibe.
Speaking of vibes, let’s look at the interior. Like, damn bro. It’s just so nice. You know how 25 percent of all comments about new cars sound something like, “Enough with the screens!”? Well, Bugatti designers have long been of this opinion. As such, there’s no central screen, touch or otherwise. Instead, there’s a lovely chrome waterfall that runs down the center of the cockpit that contains four metal knobs. Each knob does have a numeric readout (temperature, fan speed, stuff like that) and there is a way to change the readouts to show different information. Like all VW-era Bugattis, the rest of the interior is utterly fabulous. Which, given the price tags, it ought to be.
The view forward is through a thick steering wheel fashioned from leather, carbon fiber, and metal. Through it you’ll see a big fat analog tachometer showing an indicated 500-kph top speed. The Mistral’s top speed in metric is 454 kph, pretty close to the top. The various drive modes are accessed via a selector knob on the lefthand side of the steering wheel.
Start the engine, and the Mistral defaults to “EB” mode (for company founder Ettore Bugatti), a fine way to drive around especially as the air springs are in their highest setting. For sporty driving, go with Autobahn mode. It sharpens everything up and drops the ride height. Handling mode is even better with a caveat: It’s a little too low for anywhere that’s not super smooth like a track. And there is Top Speed mode, of course.
Two decades since former VW Group majordomo Ferdinand Piëch’s fever dream became reality, and the Bugatti Veyron introduced the world to the very notion of a hypercar, the roofless Mistral is the ideal final iteration of that vision. Next year, or perhaps the year after, Bugatti will begin deliveries of its next product, the Tourbillon.
Yeah, its powertrain cranks out another 200 hp (1,800 PS/1,775 hp), but nearly 45 percent of that power will come from three electric motors and its Cosworth-built naturally aspirated 8.3-liter V-16 “only” makes around 1,000 hp. I’m not going to cry about it, as more power is more power and a giant V-16 is by all accounts totally rad, but I do want to pause and pour some bubbly out for the mighty W-16.
I can think of no better send off for it than the Mistral, a machine that truly shows off what Bugatti is and should be about. Without question the fastest roadster ever—second place would be what, a Porsche 917/30?—the Mistral is more than just a top speed show pony. As is the case with every Bug powered by the awesome and mighty W-16, I was left lusting after something I’ll never be in a position to have.
Deeply elegant, elevated, gorgeous, fun, and timeless, were I lucky enough to have the roughly 6,000,000 base price (before any sort of customization) in my pockets, I would absolutely, 100 percent, no joke purchase and relish a Bugatti Mistral. It’s just that sort of machine. A true final boss. As for the 8.0-liter, quad-turbo, W-16 powerplant, au revoir, et merci pour tous les bons moments.
| 2025 Bugatti Mistral Specifications | |
| BASE PRICE | $5,800,000 (MT est) |
| LAYOUT | Mid-engine, AWD, 2-pass, 2-door roadster |
| ENGINE | 8.0L/1,578-hp /1,180-lb-ft quad-turbo DOHC 64-valve W-16 |
| TRANSMISSION | 7-speed twin-clutch |
| CURB WEIGHT | 4,600 lbs (est) |
| WHEELBASE | 106.7 in |
| L x W x H | 178.9 x 85.1 x 47.7 in |
| 0–60 MPH | 2.3 sec (MT est) |
| EPA CITY/HWY/COMB FUEL ECON | 9/13/11 (MT est) |
| EPA RANGE, COMB | 250 miles |
| ON SALE | Sold Out |
