The view from behind the Alcantara-lined wheel is dramatic: Up ahead is a configurable digital instrument cluster, flanked by wheel-mounted paddle shifters finished with weirdly satisfying drilled ribs. The dashboard-mounted infotainment screen sits within a slick structural carbon fiber member. Aircraft-style aluminum buttons and dials lend the GT’s cockpit a 1960s-era NASA feel, though a few details, like the window switches and rotary shifter dial, betray the contribution of the dreaded Ford parts bin.
Six Is Enough
The most controversial part of the GT lies at its heart: a twin-turbocharged EcoBoost V6. Enthusiasts may clamor for more cylinders, but compact packaging, minimal weight, and energy density shout them down. This 3.5-liter engine produces 647 horsepower—a potent 184 horsepower per liter—plus a thumping 550 pound-feet of torque. Ford says that’s good for a 216-mph top speed.
The red start button brings the V6 to life, filling the cabin with a mechanical orchestra. The valvetrain thrums, pulleys whir, turbochargers wheeze and snort. I drove the GT at Utah Motorsports Campus, a circuit just west of Salt Lake City and 4,413 feet above sea level. The oxygen deficit saps a consequential amount of power from the V6, but the engine still pulls enough to make your stomach sink.
Carbon fiber wheels keep the overall weight down, but are especially helpful for the suspension, which articulates deftly over bumps in the road. The hydraulic steering system channels the surface texture of the asphalt below into my hands. When I dip into the throttle, the thrust presses me into the snug seats with forceful, reassuring pressure.
Switched to Race mode, the GT’s demeanor intensifies, with sharper throttle response, less intrusive traction and stability control, a 2-inch lower ride height, and noticeably stiffer suspension. The 7-speed dual clutch, which shifts swiftly and smoothly, takes on a more urgent, backslapping tack.
Spirit of Le Mans
Lapping the 2.2-mile circuit reveals a responsive but decidedly old school handling dynamic. Unlike some supercars equipped with brake vectoring, which helps the car turn by automatically applying brake pressure to the inside wheels, the GT relies on the driver. Lose patience and get on the gas too early, and the front wheels lose their grip with the tarmac, forcing the car to understeer. It takes discipline and skill to nail this driving technique, but navigating a corner just right delivers a sense of accomplishment harder to find in more helpful cars.
Even on the corners I miss, the GT makes me feel like I’m channeling the spirit of Dan Gurney or A. J. Foyt—the duo that won the 1967 24 Hours of Le Mans in the GT40. Strap on the optional four-point racing harness, bury the throttle, and the illusion is all but sealed, even on the street, where the GT makes virtually every other vehicle feel stodgy and pedestrian. From the steering-wheel-mounted shift lights to the no-nonsense instrumentation, the GT makes me feel like every stoplight is a starting grid, every parking spot a pit stop.
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