Hot Flashes: 2024 McLaren 750S Tested (2024)

From the September/October issue of Car and Driver.

We neglected to check the weather forecast before we headed to Nine Mile Canyon Road, roughly 160 miles northeast of Los Angeles. If we had, we would have seen abnormally high daily temps of 115 degrees. Hot enough to get some sauna-esque nostril burn when breathing it in.

It's not like McLaren's $333,040 750S, a thoroughly reworked and optimized 720S, needs any extra heat, because it's already packing plenty of its own. Its twin-turbo DOHC V-8 now makes 740 horsepower, 30 more than before, and most of the rear end of the car is metal mesh to let the excess heat from its 4.0-liter furnace escape without melting the exotic bodywork. In fact, the notch cut out of the center of the new, 20 percent larger rear wing is there because that section above the exhaust would otherwise be at risk of wilting.

If that horsepower figure doesn't get your attention, first appreciate what exceptional times we're living in, and then consider the other side of the accelerative equation: weight. McLaren claims the 750S is 66 pounds lighter than the 720S—some of which is due to making lighter-weight content, such as carbon-fiber buckets, standard. Our car, at 3206 pounds, turned out to be 45 pounds heavier. Of course, optional equipment matters, and the roll bar and six-point harnesses in our car could have easily added that much back. Still, the 750S is lighter than just about anything else, including the svelte Porsche 911 GT3 RS. The Ferrari 296GTB may have 79 horsepower on the 750S, but it also weighs 326 pounds more. Lamborghini's new Revuelto and Temerario are also going hybrid, meaning they're certain to be substantially heavier. The Corvette has nearly breached the 4000-pound threshold with the electric-front-axle E-Ray. Pure, lightweight sports cars and supercars seem headed toward extinction.

Nine Mile Canyon is in Inyo County, which always makes us snicker as we consider ways to work it into some kind of "Who's on First" routine. As the road heads west into the Sierra Nevadas from CA-395, there are a couple of initial open sections where you can drink in the 750S's straight-line speed, a McLaren strength. In 18 years, we've run more than 300 vehicles at our Lightning Lap track test, and the peak-speed podium is all McLaren: 765LT, Senna, 720S. The 750S will be vying for one of those top spots—following a quick roasting of its rear tires to unlock the last skosh of launch traction, it performed an astonishing 2.3-second rip to 60 mph, 0.3 second quicker than the 720S, making it the quickest McLaren ever. It's impressively close to the all-wheel-drive crowd—see, weight matters—and ends the Ferrari 296GTB's short reign as the quickest rear-drive car we've ever tested. However, at the quarter-mile, the 296 narrowly retakes the acceleration lead, 9.7 seconds to 9.8.

Nine Mile Canyon Road

Sprouting from CA-395 about 20 miles northwest of Ridgecrest, Nine Mile Canyon heads into the mountains, eventually turning into Sherman Pass as it climbs 4200 feet to Kennedy Meadows. The scenery quickly changes from desert to verdant on the way. If you're not in a 750S, pull off on the dirt access road to get an up-close look at the aqueduct.

About three miles up the road, you'll see a pipe draped over the landscape that disappears clear into the side of the mountain. That's L.A.'s first aqueduct, which starts about 90 miles farther north, ferrying water solely by gravity a total of 233 miles, a monumental five-year effort completed in 1913 by thousands of laborers. Against the giant expanse, the 9.5-foot-diameter pipe looks unbelievably tiny.

All this plumbing talk reminds us of McLaren's longtime approach of controlling body roll with diagonal hydraulic connections between the dampers rather than girthy anti-roll bars that ruin the ride. For this latest third-generation version, supplier Tenneco allowed McLaren more tuning latitude than before, including customizing the accumulators. Supercars typically have all the roll compliance of a rigid-axle tractor, but when the 750S hits a dip at low speed, and one side—both front and rear—can compress simultaneously to breathe over it with no head toss, continuing the 720S's fantastic revelation that a supercar need not ride like one.

The 750S is also a remarkably good highway cruiser. Sure, there's some impact harshness—the Pirelli P Zero Trofeo R tires, the most aggressive of the three options, are likely worse than the others—and slight tramlining. But even so, the 750S is a substantial three decibels quieter at 70 mph than the 720S, making it not at all out of the question to listen to a podcast via newly available Apple CarPlay.

Back to Nine Mile, where we're sluicing up the mountain. It's super dry now in the summer, but you can still spot thriving massive trees and surrounding greenery in valleys between two ridges that must be able to continue living off long-ago snowmelt from above. This is no pristine road; it's patchy, broken, uneven. It gets cooked in the summer, and up near Kennedy Meadows at 6427 feet, the road-edge markers are eight feet tall to keep from getting covered by as much as 100 inches of snow here in the winter. But the road's imperfections make it a perfect place to show off the 750S. We mostly keep the Handling setting in its gentlest Comfort mode, where the 750S dances over the challenging surface feeling lithe, alive, and tossable. Its steering ratio, borrowed from the 765LT, is marginally quicker than the 720S's, and the assist remains hydraulic, making McLaren one of the last electric-assist holdouts. The steering is immediate off center and alive with road texture, although, as before, the effort buildup as cornering forces increase remains less pronounced than we'd like. The simple Alcantara-covered wheel is thin by modern standards and free of buttons, with a paddle rocking behind it to knock out upshifts and downshifts. Everything about the car and driving experience is focused on the business of going quickly and paring weight. But, when the adults weren't looking, someone slipped in a new 12-color ambient-lighting option.

The brakes have a slight initial dead zone, and then the pedal goes firm and you modulate with pressure more than travel; that part we love. It takes a lot of leg to get the tires to the threshold of adhesion, but once you do, the stopping distances—mostly thanks to the grippier tires—are much improved: 136 feet from 70 mph. Our car has the track-brake upgrade, an $18,050 add-on for Brembo carbon-ceramic rotors similar to the Senna's that replace standard carbon-ceramics [see "Biased Brakes," below]. Why do they cost almost as much as a Chevy Trax? Because the production process takes seven months.

This road is not a regular place to spot a supercar, as evidenced by the long stares from the rare passersby, many of whom are piloting some kind of extreme wilderness-camping rig. Even dusty corners with tires scrabbling for traction don't cause calamity. Once the Trofeo Rs reach optimal operating temps—not a problem during this heat wave—they stick remarkably well. On the skidpad, the 750S's 1.13-g result bests the 720S's 1.10 g's. It takes a lot of effort to get the stability-control light to blink, and even with the system fully disabled, the high limits aren't abrupt, and balance—or a sensational slide—is just a dab of power away. But before the tires are up to temp, wheelspin is possible at just about any speed.

During an exhilarating drive, you can't help but notice the active rear wing dancing in the rearview mirror. It tucks down when accelerating, then pivots up to act as an air brake when slowing. At a glance, the 750S's organic shape doesn't appear as overtly influenced by aerodynamics as many competitors'. But channels running through the doors and draped over the back end get the air to do the car's bidding. Although the outside temperature was extremely high, it nonetheless seemed too easy to get the 750S's coolant temperature above 230 degrees and trigger a warning, although it always quickly subsided after a brief cooldown period. We also had an issue where the engine went into limp mode and lost boost. McLaren suspects a combination of possible bad fuel and lots of heat soak—the problem eventually resolved itself.

After stopping to check out Chimney Peak, the highest in the area at roughly 8000 feet—hey, it's only 95 degrees up here—we sized up our re-entry into the severe carbon-fiber buckets from the Senna, a $7600 option. Their outer edge is roughly in line with the sill of the carbon-fiber tub, so sliding in isn't as difficult as expected. It's still somewhat of an awkward clamber to get feet and legs over and into the right place, but in the end, this 99th-percentile male fits just fine, the intense thigh and shoulder bolstering not impinging on hours-long comfort. There's sufficient headroom too. However, adjustable lumbar support is bring-your-own, and we kept wishing we had every time we spent an hour or more behind the wheel.

The Sequoia National Forest lies ahead, but its roads are better for sightseeing than exercising a supercar, so we head back down. From behind the 750S, you'll see the 720S's twin exhaust pipes pushed together in a central outlet and now pointing more skyward. There are two exhaust tunes; the more lenient U.S. market gets the louder one with no active valves. From the outside, the high-pitched shriek as the V-8 pulls to its 8250-rpm redline, punctuated by mule-kick-decisive shifts from the seven-speed dual-clutch automatic, is the stuff of dreams. Unfortunately, that exotic wail doesn't make it to the driver's ear. You hear more of a roar, which is certainly invigorating and much improved—engine sound is no longer the weak point it was on the 720S. But you'll never forget there's a pair of turbochargers present because you'll hear more high-pitched whistling in the cabin than in Florida during hurricane season. You'll want to keep the revs up, not only for audible or visceral rewards but also because the torque peak—590 pound-feet—is high at 5500 rpm. Much below that, you can find significant turbo lag.

This latest 750S proves once again that the driving prowess of the 700-series McLaren is every bit as high as the mountains behind us. As we switch off the car one last time, we spot a familiar McLaren feature, one so supercar appropriate that we can't believe it hasn't been mimicked: a display showing how many days the battery can last before it needs a trickle charge or the engine to run. Although who in their right mind would choose to wait 29 days before having this experience again?

Biased Brakes

Carbon-ceramic, or CCM, rotors are made from chopped fibers oriented randomly, whereas the more extreme Brembo CCM-R rotors that are part of the 750S's $18,050 track-brake upgrade use patches of long fibers stitched together to form a specific 3-D design that's cured at extreme temperatures for a much longer time. A similar process is used to create the carbon-carbon rotors used in the highest forms of racing. The long fibers in the CCM-R discs are responsible for thermal conductivity that's four times higher and strength that's 60 percent greater. Their lower operating temperature leads to better fade resistance and roughly three-times-longer life on track.

Counterpoints

The best part about driving the McLaren 750S is stopping. That's a tiny dis on its comfort—I would take the weight penalty for the comfort seats over the Senna-sourced race buckets—but mostly it's a rave for the optional track brakes, which bring the thing to a halt with a hit like the apogee of a bungee jump. Thrilling, and also lifesaving, at least for a family of California quail that chose the exact moment I came around a corner to begin crossing the road. You'd think they would have been forewarned by the hawk scream of the McLaren's V-8, but there they were, bobbing across, button-cute and in mortal peril. The 750S tower buzz turned their question-mark head feathers to exclamation points, but they toddled off unharmed, leaving me with only open road ahead. Let me start over here—the best part about driving a McLaren 750S is open road ahead. —Elana Scherr

You think the McLaren 750S rocketing to 60 mph in 2.3 seconds isn't a big deal? After all, the Lucid Air Sapphire will do it in 2.1 seconds. Well, think again. On its own, a 60-mph time is an increasingly brainless metric in this electrified age. So let's bring in stopping from 100 mph (264 feet versus 303 for the Sapphire) and cornering at the limit (1.13 g's versus 1.04), benefits that come with over a ton less weight. And that's just the start. This McLaren tickles apexes and skims over FIA curbs like it owns the place, and its reconfigured exhaust howls and spits in a way that brings you a step closer to God. And yet, when you're just puttering around, the 750S obliges with a sedate ride that will fool the average Sapphire owner. All of this melds together in one glorious package. I want this car. No, I need this car. But I can't afford this car. Sh*t! —Dan Edmunds