Kimera EVO38 review: reborn Lancia gets massive upgrade… and the coolest feature we’ve ever seen

What do we have here?

This is a new, improved, more powerful version of a car that last year we called the greatest performance car on the planet. It’s called the Kimera EVO38 and can it actually be better than the all-conquering, Performance Car of the Year-winning EVO37? Or have they ruined everything by making it too polished?

Hang on, I ask the questions. Who’s Kimera again?

Kimera Automobili is a boutique supercar/restomod maker founded by former WRC driver Luca Betti, based out of Cuneo, Italy. Its first model, the EVO37 is a tribute to the Lancia 037 Group B rally car, famously the last RWD car to win the World Rally championship. It’s a restomod, technically, with just a little Lancia Beta Montecarlo in the chassis… but beyond that, it’s entirely new.

It rocked our world when we first laid eyes on the EVO37 almost five years ago, and then shattered it into tiny pieces when it took down the likes of the Lamborghini Revuelto, Aston Martin Vanquish and Porsche 911 GT3 RS Manthey at our PCOTY test in 2025.

The EVO38 is the tricky second album and picks up where the ‘37 left off… albeit with significant modifications. It’s 4WD, not RWD, for starters – a nod to the 4WD version of the Lancia 037 that was in development back in the ‘80s, but eventually canned in favour of the Delta Integrale.

It looks… similar, what’s new?

Mechanically? The engine is the familiar 2.1-litre four-cylinder supercharged and turbocharged unit from the ‘37, but with a bigger turbo to push peak power up to 600bhp, although you can select from three engine maps unleashing a gentle 400bhp, 500bhp or the fully-caffeinated 600bhp. Given the whole thing weighs around 1,100kg (miraculously less than the RWD ‘37 thanks to more carbon and titanium components) that’ll do.

The engine has been heavily reconfigured too, with the turbo moving from high and adjacent to the engine, to directly behind it. A switchable exhaust flap lets you straight pipe the gases out a single wide-bore hole in the back for maximum noise, or split it via a pair of mufflers to the two lower exhaust tips if you don’t want to annoy the neighbours. Give the engine a proper workout and from directly behind, with the flap open, you can see the turbo glowing orange. Unnecessary? Perhaps, but damn cool. Rehoming the turbo also frees up space for a roof-mounted ram air scoop, and intercooler and oil cooling to be fed by the shoulder intakes.

The suspension, front and back, is now an in-board push-rod layout, with a hydraulic lifting system built into the dampers to raise all four corners by 50mm – more than a speed-bump nose lift system, it’s designed to give rally-car clearance on gnarly surfaces. And thanks to some extra bracing, the chassis is now three times stiffer.

The 4WD system has some party tricks too. Namely a delightfully tactile lever next to the driver’s right thigh that lets you switch between a 50/50 torque split, 25/75 front/back or fully RWD. And you can do it on the fly as the surface conditions fluctuate in front of you.

And what about the interior?

If we thought the ‘37 was a tactile delight, this takes things to another level. Kimera understands, better than any other car company in the world right now, the importance of physical, analogue controls that feel and sound wonderful, but also a sense of theatre in a car that’s this expensive and this dripping in nostalgia. For example – the front drive shaft isn’t the sexiest component in the world, but here it’s encased in a transparent box and inscribed with red lines so you can see it spinning down by your feet.

Then there’s the control panel above your head with a trio of deliciously-thunky switches from an actual helicopter, and flaps to control the electric windows. To start the car you flick each toggle in turn to activate the electrics, system checks and fuel pumps before squeezing two buttons on the centre console to fire up the engine. It never fails to make you grin.

Then there’s the hydraulic handbrake, that declutches the engine so you can keep the throttle in when you give it a tug, air-con that now runs off a 48V system (and unlike the ‘37 actually works), and a little screen to control the radio and other settings that’ll appear from behind the dash before tucking itself away again (we were driving a 90 per cent finished prototype so the screen wasn’t fitted yet).

And we haven’t even mentioned the six-speed manual yet – now with shorter ratios and set 30mm higher than previously to close the gap between the steering wheel and the cold metal ball on top. The lower casing is all milled from solid aluminium and designed to mimic the shift surround from an Integrale.

The steering wheel is simple as can be, the ‘comfort’ seats we tried were both supportive, comfortable for long stints and electrically adjustable for height, but manually back and forth. And in a perfect representation of this car’s retro roots and cutting-edge tech, the dials are analogue with physical needles, but punctured with small screens that can flash up different functions and driver information.

Any changes on the outside?

The front splitter is way more aggressive with channels on the outer edges to cool the brakes, and a central ‘S-Duct’ intake that inhales air and spits it out through the bonnet for a little downforce and extra cooling. The ram-intake in the roof is an obvious one, as is the Ferrari F40-inspired slatted, transparent engine cover. At the rear that new central pipe, and an orange glow from deep inside the belly of the beast, gives away you’re in the new one.

Go on then, does it drive as well as the EVO37?

Even better. The first piece of good news is Kimera hasn’t knocked too many corners off the visceral physicality of driving this thing, it’s still a spitting, snorting, living, breathing maniac of a car, only now there are more toys to play with and its operating window has been significantly expanded. This is excellent news as we drove it on an icy mountain pass strewn with tunnels, but also on studded tyres on an ice track. More on that in a bit.

The grip is clearly enhanced with four-wheel drive, but what’s exciting is how it hasn’t corrupted the ‘37’s unique agility and keenness to rotate like a rally car. The steering is quick and flighty, but the car responds in perfect tune, tucking the nose in and wanting to powerslide every time you nudge the wheel off centre. It’s so refreshing next to modern supercars that tend to err on the side of safe understeer unless you really take them by the scruff.

The gearshift and clutch pedal both have heft and a motorsport precision to them, and the brakes are mighty – helped by not having much mass to work with. This isn’t a locked-down, po-faced driving experience, there’s movement and information streaming through your eyes, ears, hands and bum – a constant interaction between you and the car. It’s impossible to get bored behind the wheel of this thing. It’s driving in 4D. It’s one of the most exciting cars I’ve ever driven, and I don’t say that lightly.

What about the noise?

CEO Luca Betti is a huge Ferrari F40 fan and you can feel that old-school, boosty character in this engine, albeit with the supercharger to give a torque bump at low revs. It’s a total riot of whistles, whooshes, intake resonance and exhaust blare. A proper rave going on over your right shoulder. It’s the epicentre of the whole experience, and the antidote to the anodyne, linear power delivery of a big-motored EV. Who said four-cylinders were boring, ey?

And the ice lake?

With Luca Betti beside me offering driving tips, this was the most fun I’ve had in a car for a long time. As we held massive four-wheel drift after massive four-wheel drift, revelling in the ballet of the car penduluming around and clawing at the ice I was struck by two things: how beautifully balanced and predictable the car was, but also how robust and primed for abuse it is. Every intake stuffed with snow, the engine pinging off the limiter, the turbo working its little socks off… and just like in Portugal with the EVO37 last summer, it soaked it up and asked for more. It doesn’t just have rally-car DNA, it’s built like one too.

Price and production numbers?

OK, there’s a teeny-weeny downside in that only 38 examples will ever be built and they’re all sold out – even at a cost of €880,000 plus local taxes (£918k in the UK including 20 per cent VAT). However, Mr Betti let slip that there may be a handful of Martini editions on the way offering a few more allocations. Want one? I’d get on the phone quick.

What’s next?

An excellent question, because for a small company to so emphatically nail its first car while learning on its feet, to win something as prestigious as Top Gear’s Performance Car of the Year, and then to be brave enough to make fundamental changes in the hope of making it better still… is a phenomenal achievement.

Like the ’37, the EVO38 is the polar opposite of heavy, complicated, electrified modern supercars – it’s small, light, noisy, and bursting with character. Next? Something called the Kimera K39… and if you like your supercars a little more extreme and track-focused, but still with a retro flavour, you’re in for a treat.