At TopGear, we like to celebrate the benchmarks of automotive excellence, the staples of our world by which others are judged. But while we admire their polished perfection, there’s often something more attractive about the smart alternative – those left-feld choices of the informed, the hidden heroes that ofer another option to the industry standard. They’re the sorts of cars that receive admiring glances from those who know, and there should be plenty of those for the cars we’ve driven in this issue. As benchmarks go, few are as iconic as the BMW M3, but, with its latest iteration gaining a new number and a pair of turbos, it has its detractors. Perfect timing, then, for Lexus’s second foray into the super-coupe sector in the form of the RC F. Developed by the team responsible for Clarkson’s favourite car, the LFA, it remains true to their normally aspirated ethos. Hidden hero, Q car, call the RC F what you will, it proves that sometimes we should all dare to be diferent. Enjoy the magazine,
CHARLIE TURNER
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
LEXUS RC F
MEAN STREETS
From the cobbles of the Big Apple to a smooth circuit in the countryside, can this Lexus handle the stif competition? WORDS: PAT DEVEREUX / PICTURES: LEE BRIMBLE
HOT HATCHES
LEXUS RC F
T
he pay-to-play binoculars were, as they always are, broken. The mechanism flled with as much chewing gum as change. But it didn’t matter. Standing at the top of the Perkins Memorial Tower at the summit of Bear Mountain, it was still possible to pick out the signature skyline view of Manhattan 40 miles away. The outline was all we needed to see anyway – we knew the place was half-empty. That’s because it was a Saturday. The frst day of the weekend, when the rat-race refugees and weekend warriors quit the Big Apple and head for the hills to sort out their work/life balance. They sit all day in their cubes, so they compensate by running or cycling up a mountain at the weekends. They eat crappy food during the week so they pound the kale on their days of. These people understand that compromises have to be made,
but also that they don’t all have to be bad. So the sight of the Lexus RC F in their midst caused a stir. It’s not just the blue paint that attracted them. These people know cars, and they knew this was special – a car that can work quietly all week then play fast and loud at the weekends. “Whoa,” said one guy. “What a weapon!” And he’s right. The RC F is Japan’s missile aimed at the BMW M4, the Jaguar F-Type R, the Audi RS5 and the (new) Mercedes AMG C-Class. You don’t take on that lot lightly, but Lexus believes the RC F (the RC stands for Radical Coupe; the F for Fuji, as the power curve resembles the slope of the mountain) sits in its own niche within those ranks. Its USP, it reckons, is not vast power or unshakeable handling, it’s… driver friendliness. The company reasons that while you might need a modicum of talent to extract the most from some of the German coupes, anyone with a driving licence can go fast in the RC F. So, to test this theory, and the ability of the RC F to meet its commitments in the ‘life’ part of the equation, we pointed the Lexus towards the Monticello Motor Club to see what it could really do.
Lexus has none of the stigma in the US that it has in the UK. Here, it’s regarded as a highly desirable luxury brand producing reliable and comfortable cars with great customer service. In the UK, it still has a slightly boring tinge to it. Or, rather, it did until the banzai IS-F arrived in a haze of tyre smoke, followed by the properly extraordinary, shiversome V10-engined LFA. But as those two cars vanished from the line-up almost as rapidly as they could dispatch a set of tyres, it would be all too easy to suggest the range has gone soft and safe. Well, the RC F is clear evidence it hasn’t. Think of it as the love child of the LFA and IS-F, a two-door coupe that embodies the spirit and soul of the two-seater with the everyday practicality of the four-door IS-F. Or, what every GT86 wants to be when it grows up. The RC F’s vital statistics make interesting reading. It uses the same block as the IS-F, but then everything else is sparklingly new. There’s more titanium, more efciency and more power. Quite a lot more. Where the IS-F had 417bhp, the RC F manages to rustle up a very respectable (especially considering it’s still naturally aspirated) 471bhp. That’s more than the Audi and BMW but quite a lot less than the Jag and probably the new AMG. It’s quite a clever lump, too. When it’s cruising, it switches to an Atkinson cycle – as used in the Prius – that saves fuel. Then, when you stamp on it, everything switches back to the normal Otto sequence. You don’t need to know how that works, just that it does. There might be a slight change in engine pitch but, other than that, nothing.
NISSAN ZEOD
RC F shown below left. Lovely view shown elsewhere
Being a racing driver – it’s not all glamour, you know
“THINK OF THE RC F AS THE LOVE CHILD OF THE LFA AND IS-F. IT’S WHAT EVERY GT86 WANTS TO BE WHEN IT GROWS UP”
Design team went for angular and aggressive. Achieved its aim
Easy to drive quickly, even for normal humans
LEXUS RC F
HOT HATCHES
“JUST TO MAKE SURE IT DOESN’T ALL END IN A ‘WATCH THIS!’ DISASTER, LEXUS HAS SNUCK IN SOME SYSTEMS TO HELP OUT”
RC F drawn to the bright lights of Broadway
What we very much could discern instantly was the change in the car’s character when we started playing around with the drive modes. Eco is suitably lazy and understated, the dials a sea of calming blue. But twist the dial to the right, and you enter Sport S mode as a red mist descends on the instruments. Another twist right, and you’re in Sport+. Then another, and you’re in manual control using the paddles. In these last three settings, the car strains against its leash, waiting for the command from your right foot to go. Nothing pushy, just much more attentive to your needs. And just to make sure it doesn’t all end in a ‘Watch this!’ disaster the moment you unleash all the power, Lexus has snuck in, in a very techno-drenched Lexus way, another couple of electronic systems to help. The frst one is an optional electronic torque-vectoring diferential – instead of the standard LSD – that has three modes: Standard, Slalom and Track. The frst mode is a good everyday setting, the second is for B-roads and the third, as it suggests, works best on the circuit. This system is conjoined with the second box of tricks known as VDIM, or Vehicle Dynamics Integrated Management. Think of this as a Premiership football manager for all the car’s systems. This all-seeing disciplinarian has the ability to mediate any bust-ups between the RC F’s braking, engine-management and traction/stability players in four degrees of severity: Normal, Sport, Of and Of with Expert. The frst three are self-explanatory, but the idea behind the fourth is that you can get a bit tasty and, if you overcook it, the car will help you clean up the mess you’ve got yourself in. That’s the driver friendliness Lexus was talking about. All of this power and tech is draped over a revised version of the IS-F’s chassis that has been beefed up and braced in all the right places. Most of the changes are in the sheet steel, but the optional Carbon package adds a CFRP bonnet, roof and rear (active) spoiler. This saves around 10kg, which is handy but not enough to hide the fact the RC F is struggling a bit with its weight. Fully loaded, even the lightest RC F squashes the scales to the tune of 1,765kg, which is a full 150kg more than the M4. And it’s not like the weight is equally distributed. With a 55 per cent front weight bias, you start to wonder if the RC F will have to be backed into corners on the throttle as much as the steering. Then you start to understand why it has all that electrical magic at its disposal. It doesn’t just want it; it needs it. Or does it? With the gates of Monticello flling the RC F’s heavily raked windscreen, we were about to fnd out. This private racetrack is another, more extreme, work/life balance adjuster. Instead of £10k mountain bikes and a wardrobe of Lycra, the entry requirements are rather more exclusive. On any given weekend, you can hear the bark of a Radical, a Ferrari GTO, Jags of all shapes and sizes plus a myriad of other gorgeous exotica. If the RC F is serious, it needs to work here. And to start with, it did. Slotting all the systems to their least efective mode, to fnd the real car underneath, I set out on a sighting lap of
RC F weighs just 1,765kg. Without driver. Sorry, Pat
Lexus RC F joins the bridge and tunnel brigade
LEXUS RC F Price: £59,995 Engine: 4969cc V8 471bhp, 391lb ft Performance: 0–62mph in 4.5secs 168mph top speed Transmission: 8spd Sports Direct Shift, RWD Economy: 28.2mpg 252g/km CO2 Weight: 1,765kg
Hold on tight, Pat: those potholes can be vicious
Start spreading the news, the Lexus is arriving today...
“THE RC F IS THE FIRST LEXUS TO HAVE THE FULL STYLING THAT JUSTIFIES THE CRAZY PREDATOR SPINDLE GRILLE”
NISSAN LEXUS ZEOD RC F
the damp track and was pleasantly surprised to fnd that there was a decent analogue feel to the steering. Ideally we want our coupes to be a limo during the week and a go-kart at the weekend, and the RC F was doing its best to comply. Pretty much anyone could have a few hero moments in it without getting into too much trouble. The problems began when we started to do the type of driving most people would call ‘being an idiot’. First thing – it wouldn’t do a burnout. We tried and tried, but the computer, which we thought we’d shut of, just wouldn’t let it happen. So disappointment there. Then we tried to grab some quick cornering shots on an uphill hairpin before we got kicked of the circuit, and had a similarly puzzling managerial intervention again. Despite having everything as near of as possible and approaching the corner at exactly the same speed and angle each time, the RC F did something completely diferent each time. First time: perfect drift. Second time: perfect drift then chassis control kicked in. Third time: understeer. Fourth time: massive spin. All while trying to second-guess what’d happen despite everything being supposedly shut of. And all very odd. We asked the engineer about this and the lack of burnout; he said it may have something to do with the yaw sensors. If the track isn’t totally fat, they can panic and set of the alarm bells that shut down or rein in various systems. None of which is a problem if you don’t want to drive like an idiot, but if you do, just make sure that the surface is fat or you could have similarly variable results.
Other than those odd traction issues, the rest of the car felt more than happy to play racers. Once we’d got a move on, the eight-speed ’box started conducting the gears for us, dropping a couple of cogs before the apex, hanging onto the gear through the middle then fring you out of the corner in a blaze of sound-synthesised glory. The brakes held up well and had plenty of strength to nail the turn-in points. And the suspension was unnoticeable, which is the defnition of sorted. So, with the circuit work over, it was time to head into Manhattan to see how the RC F could handle the ‘work’ part of the reckoning. There are few cities in the world that are tougher on cars than New York. The roads are a mix of cobbles and broken tarmac punctuated by wheel-swallowing holes and a web of cracks. There’s very little parking and what there is, is expensive. Then there’s the sheer volume of trafc. With 1.5 million residents and another 1.5 million commuters fghting on and of the island each day, plus efcient (if smelly) alternatives to driving, you really need to want your car to make it worthwhile here. This is where the Lexus scores big time. The RC F is the frst car in the Lexus range to have the full styling that justifes that
crazy Predator spindle grille. The rest of the car is so swoopy and slick, the grille is just another feature in a suitably futuristic design that couldn’t be anything other than techno Japanese. It works. As complex and aggressive as the exterior is, the interior is the opposite, a pool of simple calm and comfort, which soothes and supports as you cruise around the city. The seats are snug, comfortable and supportive, there’s plenty of technology to warn you of incoming danger, when reversing, parking or just inching through trafc, and the chassis does its best to mop up the horrendous road damage. It’s a comfortable place to watch the world go by (other than in the cramped rear seats), make your calls and tune out the outside noise, which is what you need here. Driver friendly? Yep, pretty much. It might use some fearfully complicated electronic systems to make up for some of its chassis shortcomings, but they work perfectly on the road and almost perfectly on the track. That’s not a bad balance. The RC F also has enough soul to be interesting. It won’t blow an M4 into the weeds and will probably be ultimately outrun by a couple of the other hot coupes, but it’ll beat them all at one thing – being the best midsize Japanese coupe you can buy now.
LEXUS LFA
Never one to reason the need, JC hails the gloriously superfuous LFA. And misses lunch... WORDS: JEREMY CLARKSON / PICTURES: LEE BRIMBLE & JUSTIN LEIGHTON
The V10 engine in a Lexus LFA revs from idle to the red line in just 0.6 of a second. That’s so fast, the engineers had to ft a digital rev-counter because a conventional needle couldn’t keep up. Toyota says that, for perfect handling, 52 per cent of the weight should be over the rear axle. As a result, the LFA’s radiators and battery are at the back. So, too, is the washer bottle. It has a single-plate fappy-paddle gearbox. The changes are slow and savage. But each time it shifts cogs, it feels like Mr Muscle Man has walloped you in the back. With a sledgehammer. This gives drivers a sense that they really are in a racing car. The body may look conventional, but there’s genuine aero here. As I discovered at Willow Springs in California recently, the faster you go, the more grip you have. There are sound tubes that feed the roar of the engine’s induction directly into the cockpit. And there’s a woman in the boot who can fnd you the nearest Japanese/Euro fusion restaurant. I love the LFA a lot. So much, that I recently described it as the best car I’ve ever driven. Naturally, this caused both Hammond and May to scof very loudly. Mainly because – as they kept pointing out – it costs £359,590. That’s nearly fve times more than a Nissan GT-R which, if anything, is even more technical. It’s way more, too, than a Ferrari 458 or a Merc SLS. It is, they argued, a stupid price. But they’re wrong. Arguing that the LFA is too expensive is like arguing that, at £100 billion, the Mona Lisa is too expensive. Or saying that there’s no point buying a £20 million Henry Moore sculpture when, for just a fver, you could buy a nice stone otter from an Oxfam shop.
With a car like the LFA, price is not relevant. Because it’s just a tech fest. A howling, thrusting, tyre-squealing arrowhead of industrialgrade showing of. It belongs in a collector’s climate-controlled garage, as an example of the moment. It is emphatically not a car you are actually going to buy and use. If you do, you may fnd that, from time to time, it’s a bit annoying. Because, in among all the glorious detail and the sense it was designed by engineering psychopaths, there are some small issues. All of which reared their heads on a short trip to the pub last month. The increasingly earnest BBC news teams were advising motorists to stay at home and not go out unless the journey was “absolutely necessary”. But it was necessary. I wanted some lunch. And anyway, it was a beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky, and, on the ground, a light sprinkling of Jack Frost hardened snow. So, I climbed into the LFA and, 10 minutes later, with a cricked neck, a punctured lung and a twisted gut, I had managed to fasten the desperately fddly seatbelt. Ten minutes after that, I had overcome the enormous turning circle by executing a 77-point turn, and was fnally pointing in the right direction. But I wasn’t going anywhere, because the race-inspired tyres were struggling quite badly with the icy gravel. I therefore undid the seatbelt, broke out the shovels, and the blow torch and the bits of sacking. And 10 minutes later, I was back in the cockpit, hungry from all the exertions and looking forward to my lunch. Ten minutes after that, I had done up the seatbelt again. And I was of.
LEXUS LFA
“WITH A CAR LIKE THE LFA, PRICE IS IRRELEVANT”
The Lexus LFA, sideways. not an unusual sight
Icy winter’s day... perfect for a trip out in the LFA
JC sets satnav to ‘the hell outta here’
“I WILL NOT CHANGE MY MIND ABOUT THIS CAR. I STILL BELIEVE IT’S THE BEST I’VE EVER DRIVEN”
LEXUS LFA
LEXUS LFA A steely glance followed by a bit of sideways action
Select any of these – you’ll still end up at the snowplough depot
Low nose is the natural prey of sleeping policemen
DIALS, BUT NOT AS WE KNOW THEM This is the LFA’s dial pack, and it does some fun stuf. A chunky mode-knob of to the side of the instrument binnacle allows you to select Sport mode, in which case the rev-counter glows white and you get the full 9,000rpm to play with. Thumb the steering wheel button and the central dial slides smoothly to the right (the readouts may be digital, but the dial is mechanical), and new menu layers are revealed, allowing you to customise the display. Or check the tyre pressures. Or when you next need fuel. Which will be now.
After a bit of fnger-wagging, I set of once more with the radio crackling and the engine howling and the tyres following the grooves left by snowploughs. Until eventually, I ended up at the snowplough depot. This is where all LFA drivers will end up, if a man in an overall has been underneath with a spanner. Eventually, though, I made it to the pub where I had what had become supper, and I gave the LFA a bit of thought... With the possible exceptions of a V8 Ariel Atom or a Caterham R500, I cannot think of any car which makes going to the pub on a crisp winter’s day such a chore. For Willow Springs? Yes. For that road which twists up into the hills outside Palm Springs? Yes again. But for going from Chipping Norton to The Kingham Plough for some snails and mushrooms on toast? No. You’d be better of jogging. However, I will not change my mind about this car. I still believe it’s the best I’ve ever driven. Because, for just a few quid, you could buy a picture to hang over your mantelpiece. It might even be quite nice. But that doesn’t stop you dreaming about owning Turner’s priceless Rain, Steam and Speed. It’s old. It’s cracked. It’s fuzzy and the insurance would be huge. But what would you rather have? That? Or The Crying Boy? Hammond and May would go for The Crying Boy. But I have a soul, which is why I wouldn’t. To quench my thirst, I reached into the door pocket for a refreshing can of fzzy pop and took a slug. And then noted there was no cupholder. But that wasn’t the end of the world, because the Lexus has a fuel tank exactly seven per cent smaller than the fuel tank on a Zippo lighter. I therefore grazed the nose going into the petrol station, undid my seatbelt, deposited the mostly full can of zesty drink in a bin, flled up with 0.3 litres of V-Power, got back in, and, after a brief 10-minute gap during which I did up my seatbelt, I dragged the low nose onto the road again. And set of. Zigzagging furiously. Most odd. I’d driven this exact car before, in the summer, in Yorkshire, and it tracked straight and true. But since then, somebody in overalls has made a small change to the undersides – Tyres? Camber? – and as a result, it simply followed every small groove in the road, irrespective of what I did with the wheel. To take my mind of the problem, I turned on the excellent Mark Levinson stereo and selected DAB. Which wasn’t working. And then it was time for some more petrol. After this and another punctured lung from doing up the seatbelt, the road opened out and I put the hammer down. Soon, I was doing 70mph, and my ears started to bleed. Because at this speed, the engine is howling at 3,000rpm. You crave a seventh gear in an LFA, but there isn’t one. You also crave a bit more space in the boot. Because any suitcase has to be ftted in the space behind the seats. Which means you can’t see anything out of the rear-view mirror. Which is why I didn’t spot the approaching police car.
Cream leather – remove denim before entering