Yahoo Autos Supercar Super Test: V12 Vantage vs. R8 V10, 458 Italia, SLS AMG, 911 Turbo S
How fast is fast? How fast is fast enough? Perceptions vary. You might observe, correctly, that this five-rocket salvo doesn’t represent the ultimate liquid-fuel thrust available on today’s automotive launchpad. There are cars—a few—with higher power ratings, higher flat-out speeds, and much higher price tags.
Compared with a Bugatti Veyron, the ultimate example, everything in this collection looks a little more ordinary and a lot more attainable. You could buy the entire group and still have a couple hundred thou left over. But it’s hard to argue that these aren’t some of the most desirable cars on the road. They make us even more grateful than usual that we aren’t quadrupeds. The slowest sprints to 60 in barely more than four seconds, and all can attain 100 mph in less than 10 seconds.
We’d hoped to make this show a little bigger, but the folks at Lamborghini declined to participate. Disappointing. But even with a Lambo in the cast, the star of this show, in terms of sheer wattage, has to be Ferrari’s new 458 Italia. The menacingly wedgy sheetmetal, amplified by the baritone boom of its 4.5-liter V-8, sends parking valets into fibrillating sensory overload.
The Mercedes SLS AMG also got a lot of attention whenever we popped its gullwing doors, a move that could draw a crowd in Antarctica.
This is not to suggest that the other contestants are wallflowers. All three—Aston Martin Vantage, Audi R8, Porsche 911 Turbo—are familiar faces [“Everyday Supercars,” July 2007]. But “familiar” does not mean “same as.”
The Aston checks in with the DBS’s 5.9-liter V-12. Similarly, the R8 5.2 has a V-10 to increase its urgency index. And the 911 Turbo, a sports-car benchmark for more than four decades, emerged from its recent makeover faster (of course) and easier to manage at high speed on challenging roads. The example we have here is the 30-hp-boosted Turbo S version.
We opened the comparo at Nevada’s Reno-Fernley Raceway, in the bleak desert hills about 30 miles east of Reno. That’s where we generated our test numbers, and these merit a couple caveats. Like most desert tracks, Reno-Fernley is dusty, which likely diluted both launch and braking performance a bit. Also, the skidpad’s unswept surface, bumpy paving, and tight radius (180 feet) diminished lateral-acceleration results.
We drove west from Reno-Fernley, to sparsely populated roads in the Sierra Nevada. The High Sierra experience—unknown public two-lanes, sometimes requiring extraordinary responses—revealed behavioral traits and capabilities that the racetrack could not.
Extraordinary, of course, is what these machines are. But inevitably, some emerged as more extraordinary than others.
It’s an oversimplification to characterize this car as a mere engine swap, but that’s the essence of the V-12 Vantage. Bolting in the 5.9-liter V-12 increases curb weight by about 150 pounds, to 3738; puts a little more of the car’s mass on the front axle (52.6 percent versus 49.4); and reduces its 0-to-60-mph time to 4.2, 0-to-100 to 9.2, and the quarter-mile to 12.5 at 117.
Those are pretty serious stats, ones that slightly upstage the flagship DBS; plus, the V-12 Vantage wears the supercar mantle more comfortably than does the V-8 model. However, the V-12 is only a tenth quicker to 60 mph, and two-tenths quicker in the quarter-mile, than the last V-8 Vantage we tested. And the Aston trails the Audi by a half-second across the board—the Ferrari, the Porsche, and the Mercedes by considerably more. At 140 mph, the other cars have all become little dots up ahead on the horizon.
The story was the same in most other areas of performance evaluation. The Aston’s chassis was as good as any in terms of rigidity, and its steering drew positive reviews, particularly for on-center feel. But the Aston’s transient responses aren’t super crisp. Sure, 67.8 mph is a swift lane-change speed, but the other cars all snaked through at more than 70 mph. And in our High Sierra frolic, the Vantage sometimes had to work hard to keep pace.
The exception to the foregoing was the braking test. Equipped with carbon-ceramic rotors and sticky Pirelli P Zero Corsas, the Aston went from 70 mph to all-stop in 156 feet, tying the best-in-test Audi.
Assessed as a place to be while the miles whistle past, the Aston fared well, thanks to gorgeous interior materials and décor, plus seats that were as supportive as any, and more comfortable than most.
We were also pleased that the Vantage comes only with a manual gearbox, one of two so equipped in the test, although this exposed one of two ergonomic demerits. The high center console made hasty shifting awkward—our Reno-Fernley lap king peeled a little chunk out of his elbow with one upshift. And the car’s high cowl limited forward sightlines.
Distinguished from the V-8 Vantage by its louvered hood—they’re functional, by the way—the Aston’s classic styling drew appreciative stares from passersby (when it wasn’t being upstaged by the Ferrari). And the yowl of the V-12 as it climbed toward redline triggered primal pleasure receptors in our brains.
But in this group, the Aston scores as the V-8 Vantage did back in our 2007 comparo: “an 8/10ths car in a 10/10ths game.”
Like bluepoint oysters on the half shell and sturgeon caviar on toast points, the SLS seems to be an acquired taste. In the course of 700 miles, not everyone on our test crew acquired it.
It’s certainly hard to fault the car’s performance. The SLS powered through the acceleration runs third-quickest, typically a wink or two behind the Ferrari, although the SLS just beat the 458 to 140 mph. It was also third-fastest on the Reno-Fernley road circuit, where one driver noted that it is “excellent under braking and predictable, with good turn-in and stunning midrange.”
Given the car’s size—biggest and heaviest in this group—its agility and tenacious grip came as a pleasant surprise to those who were enjoying their first encounter. “The size shrinks when speed goes up,” wrote one.
Testers also appreciated the omnipresent rumble of the 6.2-liter V-8—one equated it with having “your own personal thunderstorm”—as well as its muscle. The Benz’s 563 horsepower aced the Ferrari by one pony for most output in this test, although its 479 pound-feet of torque, an overpowering tidal wave compared with most, was second to the prodigious twist of the Porsche’s twin-turbo, six-cylinder engine.
And there were plaudits for a straightforward control layout and elegant interior furnishings, including high marks for the seats, which at least one tester rated above the Aston’s.
There were a few demerits. While the gullwing doors are certainly crowd pleasers, ours didn’t fit that well, and everyone on the crew whacked his head at least once. Would owners do this more than a couple of times? Probably not, but this didn’t stem the complaints. Another kvetch is the reach required to grab the door pull from the driver’s seat.
Memo to Mercedes: Equip SLS sales staff with an amusement-park minimum-height bar set at six feet. Also, issue bicycle helmets to new owners.
There were complaints about seeing over that long hood, which one driver equated with the flight deck of an aircraft carrier. Beyond that, the styling, conceived as a contemporary update on the immortal 300SL coupe, failed to resonate with most of the crew. Those who remember the original as a new car—e.g., your humble narrator—find the sequel hugely appealing. Those who don’t, don’t.
On the dynamic side of the ledger, the SLS’s score sheet was diminished by the responses of its seven-speed dual-clutch automated manual. In manual mode, shift-response time was slow, diluting the car’s otherwise eager persona in high-speed pursuits.
It may be that this illuminates a generation gap, and that this car’s appeal may be limited largely to slightly older guys. That’s not necessarily a bad thing; they’re the guys with enough dough to step up to its $203,500 as-tested price.
Like the V-12 Vantage, Audi’s mid-engined two-seater came to this return engagement packing a much bigger punch—525 horsepower from its 5.2-liter, direct-injection V-10, compared with only—only!—420 from the basic R8’s 4.2-liter V-8.
Unlike the Vantage, though, it came as the defending champ. Yet here’s the much more potent R8 mired at midpack. Why?
Let’s see, no serious black marks in subjective categories. In fact, the Audi tied for best in interior styling and fit and finish, drawing logbook plaudits for its controls, even though one driver characterized the instrument markings as a “termite colony of white hash marks.” Excellent forward sightlines, great seats, and lots of elbow room. But trunk space is limited.
Exterior styling got so-so marks, although Audi’s mid-engined missile still provokes double takes on the street, provided the Ferrari isn’t in the same ZIP Code. And the V-10’s boom is compelling, though that’s true of four of the five exhaust notes (the exception being the Porsche’s).
The Audi lost ground in dynamic areas, objective and subjective. It was distinctly quicker than the R8 V-8—3.7 seconds to 60 mph, 12.0 seconds at 118 mph in the quarter—albeit a couple of clicks slower than the R8 5.2 that went mano a mano against a Ferrari 430 Scuderia last year in Italy [“Audi vs. Italy,” October 2009].
On the other hand, it trailed all but the Aston Martin in the sprints, and while we appreciated the presence of a shift-for-yourself gearbox—Save the Manuals!—the shift action of the six-speed was a little deliberate.
Another element that limited the Audi’s finishing position is harder to explain. Like the R8 V-8, the 5.2 is a car that inspires confidence on twisty roads, particularly those the driver is seeing for the first time. The chassis keeps no secrets from the driver—the Audi’s stability/predictability index is high, arguably tops in this group. But ultimately, the trait that makes it easy to drive to its limits—understeer—limits those limits.
Yes, the R8 was second-quickest in the lane-change exercise. And it shared best-braking honors with the Aston. But it was slowest on the road course—it felt “big and heavy versus the rest”—and had to work a little harder than some others to keep pace on mountain roads.
Just a little harder. But that was just enough to cost the Audi a point or two in the handling and fun-to-drive categories. And as a consequence, it trailed the Ferrari by a single point in the final standings.
Of course, it also trailed the Ferrari’s price by $100,000. Hard to ignore that.
One logbook entry sums up the 458 experience: “Oh, my God! It’s a race car!”
The impression starts when the driver lights the fires and becomes indelible the first time the 458 slashes through a set of curves. Strap yourself into this thing, and—suddenly—you’re the reincarnation of Lorenzo Bandini.
Though its head-turning sheetmetal is new, the 458 is basically an evolution of the F430 and the 430 Scuderia, albeit a comprehensive one. The flat-plane-crank V-8 gets direct injection and grows from 4308 cc to 4497, adding more bass to the seductive sounds from its triple tailpipes and bumping output from 503 to 562 at a heady 9000 rpm.
There’s much more tech wizardry to this gain than increased displacement—rocket science, indeed—and Ferrari’s 4.5-liter eight claims the world record for per-liter output from a naturally aspirated piston engine: 125 horses.
Allied to a seven-speed, dual-clutch automated manual that is quite simply the best we’ve encountered—instant shifts and equally responsive in full-automatic mode—the 458 flashes to 60 mph in 3.3 seconds and through the quarter-mile in 11.5 at 125 mph.
Though the Porsche trumps it in acceleration, these are serious numbers. And the dynamics that go with the 4.5-liter’s thrust are almost above reproach. The combination of quick, laser-accurate steering, a far-forward seating position—crew members said they felt as if they were riding the front axle—and panoramic forward sightlines gave drivers a sense of control that made the responses of the other cars feel a little muted.
“So involving, so sonorous, such great steering, the best paddle-shift box in the world,” wrote one driver. “I feel like Fernando Alonso in this car.”
While it was capable of delivering race-car performance—the clear winner on the Reno-Fernley road course and a compelling thrill ride in the mountains—the Ferrari could also be civilized in routine driving, thanks to the brilliant electronic chassis and the powertrain adjustability provided by the five-position manettino switch set in the rim of the angular, carbon-fiber steering wheel.
Add a Pininfarina body shell that defines the visual distinction between sleek and deliciously wicked, and you have a sports car that could seduce a saint.
So what’s the problem? There are several, mostly small.
The throttle, a source of joy in barnstorming, is irritatingly jumpy in ordinary driving—it’s all but impossible to maintain a steady-state cruise in this thing.
There were two episodes of electronic confusion, when the manettino ceased to function and warning lights flashed. A quick reboot—shut it off, start it up again—cured both, but electronic hiccups are never endearing.
The steering-wheel-mounted secondary controls—stalks have been banished—didn’t meet with unanimous enthusiasm, particularly the turn-signal thumb switches, which lack a three-blink feature. And the audio controls, on the back of the steering wheel, are byzantine. Finally, let’s not forget that a good number of early 458s burst into flames, prompting a recall to reattach a heat shield under the rear fender.
The Ferrari’s real undoing, however, is its sticker. The base price—almost 230 large—is an eye-opener, particularly compared with the Porsche’s. But $40,865 worth of options—the list included a set of rather hard, Daytona-style seats and a tiny nav system, among many others—cost the Ferrari 13 points. And 13 points is how far it finished behind the Porsche.
Still, we can imagine guys looking at the Ferrari and thinking, “If only I had this car, my life would be complete.”
They could be right.
If this face doesn’t look familiar, you haven’t been paying attention. The basic envelope has been evolving since 1965, and turbocharging has been a 911 powertrain option since 1976 in the U.S.
Dynamics have been steadily improving over time, too, but there’s still a respect for the Turbo born of the self-preservation instinct. During the mountain driving of our 2007 comparo, the test crew was initially inhibited by a sense that the Porsche’s rear end was just waiting for a chance to beat the front end into a turn. “Spring-loaded for oversteer,” said one early logbook note.
But the new-for-2010 911 Turbo includes a number of significant advancements, ones that have helped to make handling far more predictable. Credit the combination of Porsche’s brake-based torque-vectoring system, tweaks to the standard all-wheel-drive system and the suspension geometry, and new dynamic engine mounts, which do a great job stabilizing the powertrain and are standard on Turbo S models.
Although the Porsche couldn’t quite match the Ferrari’s pace on the racetrack, it was a friend in fast—very fast—mountain driving, allowing pilots to take liberties they wouldn’t have chanced with some earlier 911 Turbos. As the miles unwound, confidence grew.
A logbook comment called the car “so fluid and fluent in its directional changes, so stable midcorner and under braking, that it’s a delight.”
The new level of sure-footedness was indeed a delight, and a surprising one at that. Equally delightful—but not as surprising—was the increased thrust of the Porsche’s flat-six. Displacement has expanded from 3.6 liters to 3.8, and the S model packs 14.5 psi of peak boost versus 11.6 for the standard Turbo. Output figures are 530 horsepower and 516 pound-feet of torque.
With all-wheel drive and Porsche’s seven-speed, PDK dual-clutch automated manual, which features the best launch control we’ve experienced to date, the 911 gets out of the blocks in a serious hurry: 2.7 seconds to 60, to 100 mph in 6.4, through the quarter-mile in 10.8 at 129! Although the PDK gearbox wasn’t quite as prompt as the Ferrari’s seven-speed—and it’s possible to experience a hint of turbo lag if you’re one gear too high—the acceleration is linear, potent, and extremely habit-forming.
All this and respectable fuel-economy ratings: 17 mpg city and 25 highway (same as the Ford Taurus SHO), as well as a remarkable 20 mpg in 700 miles of take-no-prisoners driving.
Debits: The short wheelbase may lend itself to nimble handling, but it also leaves a lot of nose exposed to driveway scrapes. Ride quality is stern, regardless of the suspension setting. The instrument panel and the center stack—with 33 switches and a pair of knobs—look and act archaic in this group.
The Porsche’s styling rarely rated a second glance in this company, although that isn’t entirely a bad thing. Imagine a 911 Turbo figuring as a stealth car. And if the Porsche seems a little cerebral in contrast to the passionate Ferrari, it’s hard to argue with its capabilities. Or what it delivers for the lowest price here.
('You Might Also Like',)
