I first time I sat in a Zonda was in the spring of 2002. We were in Italy shooting a story for Autocar and, as is usually the case with these exercises, the script appeared to have been written in advance. We had a known supercar, the new Lambo Murcielago, which was properly assembled and capable of matching its claimed performance figures, we had a lesser-known example called the Pagani Zonda, which was supposed be rather impressive, and we had something called an Edonis. The Edonis was a re-bodied
Bugatti EB110
running a zillion horsepower and benefitting from about three hours development work.
Name meant little back then; now it's an icon
We rightly expected the Lambo to demonstrate its superiority, and as the Edonis's windscreen needed securing with gaffer tape, this seemed inevitable. But each time someone stepped from the Zonda, they wore the bemused, vacant grin of a man who has emerged from a dark pub on a sunny day. The car was stunning.
Big impact
And it remained stunning for the next decade. In 2002 we were driving a 555hp S, which was a big step over previous versions, and the performance was utterly exhilarating. But the clincher was the quality of the product - the test car was showing 40,000km that day and, accepting a touch of Trigger's Broom, it felt like it could do 400,000km without missing a beat. The Zonda dispelled the myth of the cottage-industry supercar as being all looks and no durability.
I haven't driven a Zonda for years. The world of the hypercar has changed beyond recognition since 2002, but the C12 remains a definitive step in the progression of the genre and we mustn't forget that it was the first new player to establish itself as a permanent presence among the established brands since, well, Lamborghini. Does the S feel dated now, does it seem slow in the face of the 1,000hp club?
Dramatic and still beautiful from any angle
the Huayra
were unfortunate - that gaping mouth made it look like a striking angler fish after the petite Zonda, but if you park the two cars together, the Zonda does begin to look its age. The pod-forward profile is unmistakeable, but the more geometric shapes betray the work of a pencil more than 15 years earlier.
Simple recipe
However: the basic mechanical recipe is perhaps more attractive now that it was 10 years ago. No flappy-paddles, no forced induction - just a carbon tub, a Merc motor and a stick rising from the floor. This wasn't supposed to be a lengthy test, I was just given the keys because we were at Pagani shooting something else and had a few minutes to kill, but from the off I was wondering why anyone wanting a supercar could possibly choose anything else.
The moment you pop the door and wriggle backwards into the small seat, then pull the wheel and dash, 928-style, back to meet you and then glance around to register how much light filters into the cabin, you feel reassured. A peek in one of the high-mounted mirrors quells that confidence because you now understand the sheer volume of Zonda that hangs behind where you're sitting. And just how wide those hips are.
A fleeting taste but a timely reminder of what matters
Turn the key and after a brief giggle of starter motor the Merc V12 ka-booms into life and then sits at an idle so burbly and suggestive it's difficult to make any connection between this motor and a Mercedes S600. Clutch weight is something akin to professional gymnasium equipment, the throttle is sprung for a New Zealand centre and the gear lever doesn't want to allow access to first gear. This, then, is a proper supercar. I love the awkwardness, the truculence of getting it moving - it's a bit like mono-skiing, brutal and ugly getting the body out of the water, then graceful and smooth once up and running.
Power to pootle
So, you then remember that the 'box likes to take second before first, and the vast torque allows you to simply feed the clutch backwards from idle and it creeps away like a Civic. Tiny amounts of throttle in second have it straining to go faster, but it's a car you can drive slowly if required. That is not possible once you've taken it beyond 3,000rpm though: the induction noise is perhaps the embodiment of why we all love cars of this type, a bewitching yelp that fills the cabin and builds as you hold the right pedal down further until the car is accelerating so aggressively you wonder if it has only 555hp. Then you remember that it only weighs 1,280kg dry.
Almost as beautiful under the (carbon) skin
It is hard to explain the appeal of a truly analogue supercar experience without resorting to cliché, but the satisfaction of knowing the smoothness of your inputs will determine the response from the vehicle reminds us why we like driving. That a Veyron can pootle between five and 25mph without worrying or taxing the driver is admirable, but not enjoyable. In the Zonda you quickly build a connection between your limbs and the control surfaces. You learn just the right angle of attack for those strange button-topped pedals, the gearlever and the gorgeous steering.
On the edge
I was mesmerised by it. The old Michelins let go progressively and way, way sooner than expected. The car was controllable and exploitable but tinged with enough lingering take-the-piss-and-I'll-bury-you-in-a-tree spite to remind you that it needed some respect.
Gone, but far from forgotten
And as an object I just stood in awe. That fine line between ostentation and ridiculousness is so frequently overstepped in the Zonda, and yet everything about it is cool. It is perfectly finished and assembled.
It is a definitive supercar and, in an era of turbocharging and emasculated transmissions, it offers a driving experience that very few modern equivalents can match. I'll post a brief vid of it in a couple of weeks time.
PAGANI ZONDA S
Engine: 7,291cc V12
Transmission: 6-speed manual, rear-wheel drive
Power (hp): 555@5,900rpm
Torque (lb ft): 546@4,050rpm
0-62mph: 3.7sec
Top speed: Not disclosed...
Weight: 1,280kg (dry)
MPG: Really?
CO2: See above
Price: Worth every penny, if you can find one