Review: McLaren 12C Spider

The logical left and raging right hemispheres of the human brain don't always meet in the middle, especially when it comes to crazy-expensive supercar sleds.

Prime example: the conflict-inducing McLaren 12C, whose restrained styling disheartened my adolescent soul like the hot girl who shows up for a date in her lab coat from chemistry class. When racetrack acrobatics strip-teased a saucier side of the two-seater's skill set, the car's delightfully double-jointed capabilities begged the query: Is McLaren's 12C the ultimate insider's sports car, or simply robotically enhanced alternative to fashion-tastic Ferraris?

Following the coupe's 24-horsepower boost through software tweaks (available retroactively, free of charge, to all 12C owners), those crafty Brits unleashed a secret weapon they had been stashing up their natty sleeves all along: a convertible.

It was designed alongside its coupe counterpart back when both were seeds of an idea, nothing more than terabytes of CAD data on hard drives at the company's germ-free headquarters in Woking, England.

The concept is elegant: The 165-pound, carbon fiber monocell tub is robust enough to manage most of the torsional twist encountered during cornering, and a boron tube has been squeezed into the windshield frame to provide enough structural support for rollover protection, obviating the need for additional bracing or popup rollbars during the inevitable conversion to convertible layout. Structural alterations are few: A two-piece folding composite roof retracts using a small electric motor, requiring 17 seconds to fold into a tonneau constructed of steel that's strong enough to support the car's inverted weight.... You know, for the inevitable Wrecked Exotics cameo.

In all, the convertible gains only 88 pounds of mass compared to the coupe – roughly the weight of one Milanese runway model, which is essentially the target demographic for the passenger seat. Oh, and the sticker price swells by $26,450, to $268,250.

On paper, the similarities are disarmingly kosher: The Spider reaches 62 mph in 3.1 seconds, the exact same acceleration figure posted by the coupe. Only a tenth of a second is lost by the time you've hit 124 mph – and let the record stand that only a molecule-thin slice of speed has been excised from the coupe's terminal velocity of 207 mph; this bad boy taps out at 204.

Getting reacquainted with the 12C requires a quick tutorial on those cryptically labeled dials on the dash. On the left: Handling (Normal, Sport, or Track, with an "Aero" button in the middle that lifts the spoiler to a higher, stability-enhancing position.) On the right: Powertrain, with the same options and a "Manual" button in the center. In practice, the settings affect the car's behavior with remarkable range. Sport handling loosens the reins on traction control, but still enables the computers to crash your pre-crash party. The hydraulic suspension system is supplied by Tenneco, the same folks responsible for designing the active dampers that eventually became banned in world rally racing, and it goes from squishy to stiff with an immediately apparent, seat-of-the-pants effect.

The sensation of a full-tilt zero-to-100 mph romp is lung-emptyingly intense, even more so with launch control enacted. The quick-start method relies on a two-pedal stomp in which the system isn't charged until both turbos are spooled and the 7-speed dual-clutch transmission is ready to transfer energy from the 3.8-liter V8 to the rear wheels, shooting the 12C forward with nary more than a tire chirp and a warp-speed lurch. Though all manner of electronic artifice like brake steering is used to make the driver feel like he's Lewis Hamilton, the first turn reveals the modicum of driver technique that's still required if you want to take the quick way 'round.

Lay on the throttle, and the chassis is stiff enough that weight transfers rearward, lifting the front wheels ever so slightly and inducing a plowing effect that's immediately perceptible via lightness at the steering wheel. Sure, these transitional nuances can be quick enough to pass without offense, but nobler than the fact that they happen at all is how the 12C Spider makes the driver feel as the car negotiates the high stakes, high g-force proceedings at a racetrack – that is, entirely tuned into the ever changing shapes and pressures of each contact patch imprinted by those gummy Pirelli P-Zero Corsa tires. If there's anything inorganic about the experience, it's the midrange gush of power as the turbos spool when the full 616 horsepower and 442 pound-feet of torque are tapped into. That ensuing ascension to the 8,500 rpm redline is a mad rush of headiness, a screaming crescendo of decibels enhanced by the reprogrammed intake sound generator, which can now be operated independently of the powertrain mode selection via a small stalk below the turn signal lever.

But speaking of sound, one of the 12C Spider's most notable character traits rears its boisterous head when we leave the racetrack and hit the sinewy country roads. On these ribbony expanses of tarmac, the 12C barks back at nature with a broader range of frequencies than its fixed-lid counterpart. With the top up and side windows down, a bit more midrange makes its way into the cabin, offering a mechanical cacophony of unearthed sounds like wastegate wheeze, turbocharger whine, and intake vacuum. Drop the rear window, and a bit more basso profundo creeps in, anchoring the soundscape with a deep, lush backbone. The sounds are enough to make this remixed roadster feel significantly different from the coupe – yet oh so similar, thanks to its safety-razor handling and spunky squirtiness.

Despite its all-business interior, the Spider makes for cozy bedfellows on long and winding road trips. Ride is compliant when you want it, and though higher speeds reveal a bit more cabin sound with the top and windows up compared to the coupe, civility reigns supreme in this otherwise innocuous chariot. This is mostly thanks to electronics which, in their mildest settings, can turn this lethal track weapon into a Sanrio commercial on wheels. Sure, an air of industrial functionality dominates the mood as the airbrake fills the rearview mirror upon hard braking – after all, the steering wheel thickness and shape was modeled after McLaren's Formula 1 wheel, taking into account the diameter of the driver's gloves, further proof of the British company's endearing obsession with racing. But cruising along the highway in its softest settings, the 12C Spider is content to hum along quietly (and weirdly efficiently), discreetly avoiding gas guzzler tax.

Despite its Hyde-like potential, this rapscallion is most beloved when it's in full-on Jekyll mode, fiercely down and dirty despite an exhaust note that still isn't quite as haunting or spine-tingling as its Italian adversaries. No bother; with virtually all of the coupe's athleticism intermingling with a soft swirl of wind noise and glorious photons from above, the 12C Spider needn't concern itself with its counterparts. We like you just as you are, Señor Logicalpants – sound, fury, and all.

WIRED Form, meet function; function, meet form. Few (if any) compromises for convertible duty, save the $26,450 premium. Complex mechanical sounds add character and depth to this otherwise politic personality. About as un-douchebaggy as exotics get.

TIRED Still not quite vixenish enough to inspire outright, mouthwatering, gotta-have-it lust. Sloppy weather stripping along door and roof seams belies the engineering exotica found elsewhere. Fully tapping into performance capabilities and tasting more of that personality equals possible incarceration.

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