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"Quite simply, perfection": flat out in the sublime, V12-engined GMA T.50S

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"Quite simply, perfection": flat out in the sublime, V12-engined GMA T.50S | Top Gear

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"Quite simply, perfection": flat out in the sublime, V12-engined GMA T.50S

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
"Quite simply, perfection": flat out in the sublime, V12-engined GMA T.50S

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There's a black GMA T.50S Niki Lauda just to my right. It’s tucked inside a shuttered pit box, raised on air jacks, centrelock wheels and slicks set off to the side. It looks shockingly tiny but has a presence big enough to create its own gravity. Outside, the sun is just peeping out above the horizon and casting the Bahrain International Circuit in an ethereal pinky-orange light. The last vestiges of another clear, dry winter’s day. It’s cold, but the atmosphere is warm and happy.

Behind the battle worn ‘XP2’ prototype three guys are having an animated chat. Laughing and shaking hands and clearly having a proper catchup. They have plenty of shared experiences to discuss. Like seven Indy 500 wins between them, for example. I’d love to listen in as Emerson Fittipaldi, Juan Pablo Montoya and Dario Franchitti put the world to rights, but I’m a bit distracted...

Not by the black T.50S – a track only, high downforce evil twin to go with Gordon Murray’s singular T.50 road car vision. It’s spectacular, but not quite as spectacular as ‘XP3’. A newer, shinier T.50S finished in Scarista green with fresh slicks fitted. When the clock strikes 6pm, this thing and this circuit are all mine until midnight. At which point it turns into a pumpkin. Or, in this case, a horrific BYD seven-seater hire car.

Photography: Dean Smith

You know the GMA T.50. A fully realised version of the McLaren F1 with the benefit of hindsight, better materials and technologies, less mass and more power: central driving position, manual gearbox, slight dimensions, 997kg, plenty of luggage space, road optimised dynamics and, of course, blessed with a normally aspirated Cosworth 4.0-litre V12 producing 664bhp and with a rev limit of 12,100rpm. My colleague Ollie Marriage simply proclaimed it “the best drivers’ car in the world”, after prolonged exposure on a European roadtrip.

Not a bad basis for a track only toy, then. However, Gordon Murray insists the T.50S isn’t a ‘version’ of the T.50, but a parallel design and development programme. “I learnt a really hard lesson with the F1,” he begins. “Where we made what we thought was going to be a road car forever, but then had to turn into a racing car. It’s always a compromise doing it that way around. So, this time I reckoned that we would start with two completely different design teams and design directions.”

Even so, the core values of the T.50S remain rooted in the intangible rather than objective performance goals. Dario Franchitti, executive product and brand director (and four-time IndyCar champion), explains: “We figured the lap times would take care of themselves with this power and the low kerbweight, so the T.50S is intended to be fun above all else. And that’s regardless of driver ability...” I feel that comment is aimed at me as I’m the only bloke in the garage who hasn’t won an Indy 500. Luckily, Emmo and Montoya, whose grandson and son respectively are testing Super Formula cars, leave well before my drive.

[node:field_carousel-themed]

Anyway, back to Dario’s point. I mean, it sounds fun. The S might not be just a T.50 with some added aero but many of the core ingredients have a great deal of shared DNA. Only turned up, slimmed down and then squeezed into the surface with splitters, dive planes, a central shark fin and massive rear spoiler, and the rear 400mm fan spinning at close to 7,000rpm from 50kph (36mph) to fully energise the underbody aero.

Incredibly, the 65º 4.0-litre V12 now produces 761bhp at 11,500rpm and 367lb ft at 8,000rpm. It has revised cylinder heads and camshafts, is fed by a roof scoop for added ram-air effect, and no longer needs the variable valve timing of the road car engine. It weighs 166.3kg, which is nearly 12kg lighter than the T.50 unit, and the compression ratio is up from 14:1 to 15:1. It also has 12 throttle bodies and two sets of injectors dumping fuel straight into the cylinders and, of course, emissions regulations don’t mean a damn thing for this track special.

Perhaps the biggest departure, in terms of philosophy at least, is the fitment of an XTrac IGS (Instantaneous Gearshift System) sequential ’box. It’s 5kg lighter than the manual of the T.50 and will be offered with different gearsets depending on customer preference and the demands of their most visited circuits. There are also real ‘carbon-carbon’ brakes for maximum performance and consistency, a thinwall Inconel exhaust system (unsilenced on XP3) and magnesium wheels – once again the best combination of durability and low mass. In fact, the significant weight savings really start to add up. The T.50S weighs a smidge under 900kg. It also produces 1,200kg of downforce. Is it 6pm yet?

There’s no truly elegant way to get into the snug central driver’s seat. But who cares? You don’t need dignity if have enough money and gold stars accrued with GMA to be offered a T.50S. Just 25 will be built and each will be named after the locations of the first 25 victories by Murray-designed F1 cars. So, start by climbing into the single passenger seat, located to the driver’s left (the other side is crammed with various systems). Perch right at the front of the seat base, level with the driving position. Now place your right hand on the furthest side bolster of the driver’s seat and swing legs towards the pedal box. Your left hand will need to support your weight by pushing up on the sill. Lucky the T.50S is so compact. Now push up further, lifting your body over the high sided carbon seat and wriggle and contort as best you can until finally dropping into it. (Side note: getting out is even worse.)

The reward is immediate and worth the pain. What a view! The scuttle is so low that you almost feel like you’re in a single seater, right down there in touch with the surface. Again, the narrowness of the whole package helps here and is the first of many Murray obsessions that define the T.50S experience and just make instant, obvious, impossibly good sense. The carbon fibre steering wheel looks like a Batman sign and feels delicious. It has some necessary buttons – for example for pit radio, indicators, wipers, full beam and pit limiter – but compared to a senior Formula car or racing prototype it’s very plain and intuitive.

Ahead of that is a rectangular screen set within a simple binnacle. You can scroll between various displays and menus, but the main driver’s display has a rev bar across the top, a large central gear indicator, tyre pressure and temperature info and lap times to the left and speed to the right. Just below the speed display is a panel showing ABS and TCS settings, brake bias and the assistance level for the electric power steering. All of this adjustability is controlled on a large console to driver’s right. Interestingly, you can even separately adjust front and rear bump and rebound for the R53 suspension dampers on the fly with four rotary switches. Dario dialled the car in yesterday, so I make a mental note not to undo all his good work and just to focus on the track.

Firing up is pretty easy. Unlike, for example, the McLaren Solus, which has a pure race Judd V10 engine, the T.50S doesn’t require 45 minutes of prewarming. Flick down the master switch on the console to your right, wait for the screen ahead to cycle through its opening sequence, then with feet off both pedals hit the small green Start/Stop button. Pause again and wait for the green light below it to flash and you can depress the brake pedal, hit the green button again and the V12 hums into life for a couple of seconds before bursting into a fast paced tickover. At this point you surmise that the £3.1m asking price is probably fine.

There’s no clutch. Just pull the right paddle to select first, feel a light thunk as it engages and wait for a thumbs up. It can only be a second or two before the signal comes but my mind races with conflicting scenarios. I’m the first person outside of GMA to drive the T.50S. XP3 is a precious car and for GMA this week is all about final sign off. So, I should be very cautious. On the flipside, this is likely to be my only chance to ever drive the T.50S. If I’m too cautious I’d probably regret it forever. As I pull away and the V12 strains against the pit limiter and fizzes and crackles through the carbon structure (it’s not a stressed member, but it feels like it could be), my approach remains undecided.

First impressions? The strangest thing is that sensations come at you so fast, yet there’s a stunning, almost magical calmness to the whole thing. The driving position is right. You didn’t know it before, but every other solution is, well, wrong. The V12 engine is astounding. I’ve not driven the roadgoing T.50 but from hearing it and seeing videos it’s a sweetly musical thing. The T.50S is different. It’s angry and full of character, bile and grit. Despite peak torque coming at 8,000rpm, it’s happy to lug from low down and then just gets wilder and more savage as the revs rise. Clearly, it’s the howling, shattering, raging heart of the car and has epic, never ending reach. Seven hundred and sixty one bhp in a sub 900kg car is something very special indeed.

The carbon brakes take a little heating and on a cold evening the slicks require caution at first, too. Even so, there’s no spikiness. They don’t judder like solid blocks of concrete when cold, the brakes still provide some reassurance. And as you feel everything starting to enter its proper operating window the sense of connection and high definition feedback is remarkable. You can brake unbelievably late and still the T.50S retains its composure, that low mass revealing itself once again. Like I said, the noise and the forces are extraordinary and should be scary and intimidating. Yet the progression, polish and lack of inertia create such a transparent driving experience that instead of fear you just feel freedom.

Freedom to explore, freedom to push, freedom to discover (or remember) that nothing creates a sense of agility like real agility. You don’t need rear steer and e-diffs, active anti-roll bars or dampers with motors inputting torque to counter roll. Get the fundamentals right, reduce weight wherever possible and, as Gordon Murray has always said, it’s the most virtuous of circles.

The T.50S is the embodiment of the ideals he so treasures, and about one lap behind the wheel will make you a disciple. It’s an astounding experience and mixes raw physical excitement with cerebral reward like nothing else.

Just a few minutes ago, about the time I released the pit limiter, I’d decided that prudence was the answer. Why take a single risk when so much is at stake for GMA but there’s so little consequence to setting a decent lap time? Yet on my first flying lap of a circuit I barely know, without touching a kerb and being pretty conservative in the braking zones, I match the LM GT3 pole lap at last year’s WEC race. That’s freedom, people. And obviously, the car has way, way more to give. The wild thing is that it feels so thrilling and yet so effortless.

Franchitti had earlier told me that the idea was to keep some cues in the chassis – a small amount of roll, pitch and dive – so the T.50S communicates and has soft-edged limits. Sitting centrally you barely notice, to be honest.

The car is brilliantly locked down and responsive. But, those cues do reach your hands, eyes and backside, and as a result the T.50S is extremely intuitive. In the slower turns you can play with the car’s attitude, nudge up against the traction control and feel absolutely hardwired to its responses.

Just as you’d want. Then, at higher speed, there’s the same poise and gorgeous, progressive balance, but with the added security of the increasing downforce. Even better is that between these two points the car’s behaviour is completely linear. It doesn’t ‘switch on’ as the downforce reaches a peak, but just retains the same character and rate of response.

The ’box is terrific. So much so I never really give it a second thought. Could the celebrated 6spd manual have been retained? Probably. But perhaps the sheer potential of the car and the speed with which it laps would actually get in the way of the thrill as often as it would enhance it. The very next day, on new tyres one step harder than I’m driving, Dario does a 1:53 lap time.

For context, Kamui Kobayashi’s hypercar pole lap last year in the Toyota GR010 was 1:46.826. The 1:53 wasn’t even a low fuel qualifying simulation, but hints at this car’s potential. Especially when you remember it’s setup for fun rather than pure lap time.

In the end I conclude, just as GMA already knew, that the T.50S really doesn’t need to set any lap records. In concept and execution it’s something different. Something new. It melds cutting edge racecar capability with pure sensation and entertainment in a way I’ve never experienced. The small footprint and obsession with chasing out mass wherever possible informs every single dynamic trait, and all for the better.

Heap the breathtaking raw energy and sensational response of Cosworth’s V12 masterpiece on top of those ingredients, then add outrageous braking capability and a subtle, malleable balance, and the T.50S transcends normal parameters. It’s a passion project that cherishes involvement and feedback, showcases engineering purity, and celebrates the immense satisfaction we all take from simply being in control of a beautifully honed machine. It is, quite simply, perfection.

# data.attributes.body.processed
There's a black GMA T.50S Niki Lauda just to my right. It’s tucked inside a shuttered pit box, raised on air jacks, centrelock wheels and slicks set off to the side. It looks shockingly tiny but has a presence big enough to create its own gravity. Outside, the sun is just peeping out above the horizon and casting the Bahrain International Circuit in an ethereal pinky-orange light. The last vestiges of another clear, dry winter’s day. It’s cold, but the atmosphere is warm and happy.

Behind the battle worn ‘XP2’ prototype three guys are having an animated chat. Laughing and shaking hands and clearly having a proper catchup. They have plenty of shared experiences to discuss. Like seven Indy 500 wins between them, for example. I’d love to listen in as Emerson Fittipaldi, Juan Pablo Montoya and Dario Franchitti put the world to rights, but I’m a bit distracted...

Not by the black T.50S – a track only, high downforce evil twin to go with Gordon Murray’s singular T.50 road car vision. It’s spectacular, but not quite as spectacular as ‘XP3’. A newer, shinier T.50S finished in Scarista green with fresh slicks fitted. When the clock strikes 6pm, this thing and this circuit are all mine until midnight. At which point it turns into a pumpkin. Or, in this case, a horrific BYD seven-seater hire car.

Photography: Dean Smith

You know the GMA T.50. A fully realised version of the McLaren F1 with the benefit of hindsight, better materials and technologies, less mass and more power: central driving position, manual gearbox, slight dimensions, 997kg, plenty of luggage space, road optimised dynamics and, of course, blessed with a normally aspirated Cosworth 4.0-litre V12 producing 664bhp and with a rev limit of 12,100rpm. My colleague Ollie Marriage simply proclaimed it “the best drivers’ car in the world”, after prolonged exposure on a European roadtrip.

Not a bad basis for a track only toy, then. However, Gordon Murray insists the T.50S isn’t a ‘version’ of the T.50, but a parallel design and development programme. “I learnt a really hard lesson with the F1,” he begins. “Where we made what we thought was going to be a road car forever, but then had to turn into a racing car. It’s always a compromise doing it that way around. So, this time I reckoned that we would start with two completely different design teams and design directions.”

Even so, the core values of the T.50S remain rooted in the intangible rather than objective performance goals. Dario Franchitti, executive product and brand director (and four-time IndyCar champion), explains: “We figured the lap times would take care of themselves with this power and the low kerbweight, so the T.50S is intended to be fun above all else. And that’s regardless of driver ability...” I feel that comment is aimed at me as I’m the only bloke in the garage who hasn’t won an Indy 500. Luckily, Emmo and Montoya, whose grandson and son respectively are testing Super Formula cars, leave well before my drive.

Anyway, back to Dario’s point. I mean, it sounds fun. The S might not be just a T.50 with some added aero but many of the core ingredients have a great deal of shared DNA. Only turned up, slimmed down and then squeezed into the surface with splitters, dive planes, a central shark fin and massive rear spoiler, and the rear 400mm fan spinning at close to 7,000rpm from 50kph (36mph) to fully energise the underbody aero.

Incredibly, the 65º 4.0-litre V12 now produces 761bhp at 11,500rpm and 367lb ft at 8,000rpm. It has revised cylinder heads and camshafts, is fed by a roof scoop for added ram-air effect, and no longer needs the variable valve timing of the road car engine. It weighs 166.3kg, which is nearly 12kg lighter than the T.50 unit, and the compression ratio is up from 14:1 to 15:1. It also has 12 throttle bodies and two sets of injectors dumping fuel straight into the cylinders and, of course, emissions regulations don’t mean a damn thing for this track special.

Perhaps the biggest departure, in terms of philosophy at least, is the fitment of an XTrac IGS (Instantaneous Gearshift System) sequential ’box. It’s 5kg lighter than the manual of the T.50 and will be offered with different gearsets depending on customer preference and the demands of their most visited circuits. There are also real ‘carbon-carbon’ brakes for maximum performance and consistency, a thinwall Inconel exhaust system (unsilenced on XP3) and magnesium wheels – once again the best combination of durability and low mass. In fact, the significant weight savings really start to add up. The T.50S weighs a smidge under 900kg. It also produces 1,200kg of downforce. Is it 6pm yet?

There’s no truly elegant way to get into the snug central driver’s seat. But who cares? You don’t need dignity if have enough money and gold stars accrued with GMA to be offered a T.50S. Just 25 will be built and each will be named after the locations of the first 25 victories by Murray-designed F1 cars. So, start by climbing into the single passenger seat, located to the driver’s left (the other side is crammed with various systems). Perch right at the front of the seat base, level with the driving position. Now place your right hand on the furthest side bolster of the driver’s seat and swing legs towards the pedal box. Your left hand will need to support your weight by pushing up on the sill. Lucky the T.50S is so compact. Now push up further, lifting your body over the high sided carbon seat and wriggle and contort as best you can until finally dropping into it. (Side note: getting out is even worse.)

The reward is immediate and worth the pain. What a view! The scuttle is so low that you almost feel like you’re in a single seater, right down there in touch with the surface. Again, the narrowness of the whole package helps here and is the first of many Murray obsessions that define the T.50S experience and just make instant, obvious, impossibly good sense. The carbon fibre steering wheel looks like a Batman sign and feels delicious. It has some necessary buttons – for example for pit radio, indicators, wipers, full beam and pit limiter – but compared to a senior Formula car or racing prototype it’s very plain and intuitive.

Ahead of that is a rectangular screen set within a simple binnacle. You can scroll between various displays and menus, but the main driver’s display has a rev bar across the top, a large central gear indicator, tyre pressure and temperature info and lap times to the left and speed to the right. Just below the speed display is a panel showing ABS and TCS settings, brake bias and the assistance level for the electric power steering. All of this adjustability is controlled on a large console to driver’s right. Interestingly, you can even separately adjust front and rear bump and rebound for the R53 suspension dampers on the fly with four rotary switches. Dario dialled the car in yesterday, so I make a mental note not to undo all his good work and just to focus on the track.

Firing up is pretty easy. Unlike, for example, the McLaren Solus, which has a pure race Judd V10 engine, the T.50S doesn’t require 45 minutes of prewarming. Flick down the master switch on the console to your right, wait for the screen ahead to cycle through its opening sequence, then with feet off both pedals hit the small green Start/Stop button. Pause again and wait for the green light below it to flash and you can depress the brake pedal, hit the green button again and the V12 hums into life for a couple of seconds before bursting into a fast paced tickover. At this point you surmise that the £3.1m asking price is probably fine.

There’s no clutch. Just pull the right paddle to select first, feel a light thunk as it engages and wait for a thumbs up. It can only be a second or two before the signal comes but my mind races with conflicting scenarios. I’m the first person outside of GMA to drive the T.50S. XP3 is a precious car and for GMA this week is all about final sign off. So, I should be very cautious. On the flipside, this is likely to be my only chance to ever drive the T.50S. If I’m too cautious I’d probably regret it forever. As I pull away and the V12 strains against the pit limiter and fizzes and crackles through the carbon structure (it’s not a stressed member, but it feels like it could be), my approach remains undecided.

First impressions? The strangest thing is that sensations come at you so fast, yet there’s a stunning, almost magical calmness to the whole thing. The driving position is right. You didn’t know it before, but every other solution is, well, wrong. The V12 engine is astounding. I’ve not driven the roadgoing T.50 but from hearing it and seeing videos it’s a sweetly musical thing. The T.50S is different. It’s angry and full of character, bile and grit. Despite peak torque coming at 8,000rpm, it’s happy to lug from low down and then just gets wilder and more savage as the revs rise. Clearly, it’s the howling, shattering, raging heart of the car and has epic, never ending reach. Seven hundred and sixty one bhp in a sub 900kg car is something very special indeed.

The carbon brakes take a little heating and on a cold evening the slicks require caution at first, too. Even so, there’s no spikiness. They don’t judder like solid blocks of concrete when cold, the brakes still provide some reassurance. And as you feel everything starting to enter its proper operating window the sense of connection and high definition feedback is remarkable. You can brake unbelievably late and still the T.50S retains its composure, that low mass revealing itself once again. Like I said, the noise and the forces are extraordinary and should be scary and intimidating. Yet the progression, polish and lack of inertia create such a transparent driving experience that instead of fear you just feel freedom.

Freedom to explore, freedom to push, freedom to discover (or remember) that nothing creates a sense of agility like real agility. You don’t need rear steer and e-diffs, active anti-roll bars or dampers with motors inputting torque to counter roll. Get the fundamentals right, reduce weight wherever possible and, as Gordon Murray has always said, it’s the most virtuous of circles.

The T.50S is the embodiment of the ideals he so treasures, and about one lap behind the wheel will make you a disciple. It’s an astounding experience and mixes raw physical excitement with cerebral reward like nothing else.

Just a few minutes ago, about the time I released the pit limiter, I’d decided that prudence was the answer. Why take a single risk when so much is at stake for GMA but there’s so little consequence to setting a decent lap time? Yet on my first flying lap of a circuit I barely know, without touching a kerb and being pretty conservative in the braking zones, I match the LM GT3 pole lap at last year’s WEC race. That’s freedom, people. And obviously, the car has way, way more to give. The wild thing is that it feels so thrilling and yet so effortless.

Franchitti had earlier told me that the idea was to keep some cues in the chassis – a small amount of roll, pitch and dive – so the T.50S communicates and has soft-edged limits. Sitting centrally you barely notice, to be honest.

The car is brilliantly locked down and responsive. But, those cues do reach your hands, eyes and backside, and as a result the T.50S is extremely intuitive. In the slower turns you can play with the car’s attitude, nudge up against the traction control and feel absolutely hardwired to its responses.

Just as you’d want. Then, at higher speed, there’s the same poise and gorgeous, progressive balance, but with the added security of the increasing downforce. Even better is that between these two points the car’s behaviour is completely linear. It doesn’t ‘switch on’ as the downforce reaches a peak, but just retains the same character and rate of response.

The ’box is terrific. So much so I never really give it a second thought. Could the celebrated 6spd manual have been retained? Probably. But perhaps the sheer potential of the car and the speed with which it laps would actually get in the way of the thrill as often as it would enhance it. The very next day, on new tyres one step harder than I’m driving, Dario does a 1:53 lap time.

For context, Kamui Kobayashi’s hypercar pole lap last year in the Toyota GR010 was 1:46.826. The 1:53 wasn’t even a low fuel qualifying simulation, but hints at this car’s potential. Especially when you remember it’s setup for fun rather than pure lap time.

In the end I conclude, just as GMA already knew, that the T.50S really doesn’t need to set any lap records. In concept and execution it’s something different. Something new. It melds cutting edge racecar capability with pure sensation and entertainment in a way I’ve never experienced. The small footprint and obsession with chasing out mass wherever possible informs every single dynamic trait, and all for the better.

Heap the breathtaking raw energy and sensational response of Cosworth’s V12 masterpiece on top of those ingredients, then add outrageous braking capability and a subtle, malleable balance, and the T.50S transcends normal parameters. It’s a passion project that cherishes involvement and feedback, showcases engineering purity, and celebrates the immense satisfaction we all take from simply being in control of a beautifully honed machine. It is, quite simply, perfection.

# data.attributes.field_standfirst
Gordon Murray’s ultimate track only supercar and a floodlit Formula One circuit to ourselves? Pinch yourself and prepare for launch