Where do I start? At the start, I guess. Mid-engined weight distribution and 295-section tyres dropkick it off the line. Its intimate feel explains how Willson’s off-camber section wants to roll most cars’ tails loose, yet the GT4 itself remains far too composed to do anything of the sort.
As the front wheels load up for the first part of Chicago, the little steering wheel posts me fulsome love notes. Grip through the apex is colossal and so’s the security as it blasts out. Through the gears, the engine’s willingness and potency bring up Hammerhead in very short order, but there’s no need to brake till it’s filling the ‘screen because the ceramics will happily deform your ribcage.
It does ask for a little patience in the tight first part of the Hammerhead - a McLaren’s brake-steer device reduces understeer to zero, a state of grace the GT4 doesn’t quite attain.
But, back on the throttle, I’m vastly reassured by the brilliant adaptive damping as it summarily despatches that upsetting bump after the apex. Natural aspiration’s instant power delivery makes a lovely job of holding things together on that long exit. A short wheelbase means this isn’t a car for easy, long, big, sideways smoking, but the transparency and exactness of all its answers mean you’re having huge fun at subtle angles.
Next up, however bold I try to be for the ridiculously fast Follow Through, downforce tells me I’ve wimped it. And then at Second to Last, which I never get right, its forgiveness is the gift that keeps on giving.