This is what your supercar says about you
Endorsed by a psychologist. Sort of.
It is often said that dogs look like their owners.
And to be fair, there’s merit to the classic adage.
Several studies littered through the 2000s suggest that people, at some level, pick pooches that resemble themselves. Call it narcissistic pet selection. (Mind you, the studies were far from exhaustive, with relatively tiny samples and presumably diminutive effect sizes).
I think it is time someone conducted a study on supercars and their owners.
So instead of waiting for the science to confirm what I already know to be true, I’ve gone ahead and compiled a definitive list of what your supercar says about you.
McLaren 765 LT
Goodness me, you are a brave chap.
I say ‘chap’ because I am yet to meet a woman with the lack of self-preservation (i.e. idiocy) required to pilot such a suicidal machine. If you have driven your 563kW (755hp) big Mac more than once, you have no doubt developed PTSD and started wetting the bed.
You’re probably wishing you had settled for a bog-standard 720S instead.
Mega car, though.
I adore the Huracán (particularly the rear-wheel-drive models), however, there is no denying the science: If you have a Huracán parked in your driveway then you are almost certainly a sub-par influencer with colossal debt hoping your glitzy car can compensate for your lack of personality.
The R8 is the thinking man’s supercar. A Huracán for adults. If you own one of these, then you have a brilliant sense of taste. Double points if opted for one of the rear-wheel-drive variants.
Unless, of course, you own an R8 with an obnoxious satin-black wrap. In which case, you are the scum of the earth.
Tesla Model S Plaid
Let’s get one thing straight: You don’t drive a supercar. You’re not fooling anyone.
While you are here, I should probably inform you that you are part of a cult.
Phenomenal car, nonetheless.
Ferrari F8 Tributo
A transcendental supercar, if a little odd looking.
You’re an investment banker who actually likes driving.
ou spend most of your time tootling through over-congested cities hoping people will appreciate your good fortune. You’re on your sixth clutch and your ears have been eviscerated, but you tell yourself you’re doing a valiant local service for the children.
The reality is you have attachment issues and are craving approval from others to fill the void left by your unsupportive father.
Call that the quickest psychology lesson of your life. Now, will you be paying for that with cash or credit?
Ferrari 812 Competizione
Disclaimer: I don’t think the 812 Competizione is all that attractive. The rear is fussy, the bonnet is split in two, and it has a face that looks like it was styled by a child. And yet, I couldn’t care less.
Nestled under the Competizione’s airstrip-spec bonnet is a glorious 6.5 litre naturally aspirated V12 that revs to an eye-watering 9,500 rpm and makes an utterly soul-stirring noise while doing so.
It’s not all shirt and no trousers, either. Ferrari claims the Competizione produces up to 610kW (830hp) and 694Nm (510 lb-ft), all of which is sent exclusively to the rear axle. Major want.
Own one of these? You are a hero.
Porsche 911 Turbo / Turbo S
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: The 911 is not a supercar. It’s a sports car. Adding more power to the formula doesn’t equate to a categorical change in the car’s description. If that was the case, then every 1000hp Honda Civic shed build should be considered a supercar.
What I will say is this: the 911 Turbo is an automotive terminator, a ruthless road-slaying machine. It’s an absolute weapon.
You lucky person, you.
You couldn’t afford a 911 Turbo. You settled.
You probably think Fast and Furious ought to have won an Oscar.
Also, still not a supercar.
I’m frothing. Brilliant car. You chose well. But admit it: you’re on a first-name basis with your chiropractor and have been living in denial, telling people it’s “fine” without a V8.
Also, if you bought your GT as a speculative investment only for Ford to screw you by bringing out a million other “special edition” models, my deepest condolences. That’s gotta hurt.
You’re a Le Mans romantic.
What type of person looks at the current crop of supercars and says, “No, I’d rather my supercar have the engine from a Volvo SUV and be built in a rusty shed”? Muppets. That’s who. I don’t care how good to drive your car is. You spent the best part of AUD$400,000 on a glorified kit car.
You baffle me.
You saw Tony Stark drive the NSX concept in Marvel Studios’ blockbuster film, The Avengers, and thought, “I wouldn’t mind being him.”
Jokes on you. You ended up with a depreciation nightmare complete with the interior from a Civic. Rookie error.
You’re a slave to advertising. A sucker, to put it lightly.