I know it’s just past Thanksgiving, but I hope you still have some mental space to be thankful, because there’s something that just happened about which you should be very thankful. That something is that my Autopian co-founder David Tracy and I just had a long, largely pointless argument about the worth of the Bugatti Veyron, and you did not have to be a part of it. It went on and on, and somehow you were spared the irritating tedium of two insufferable dorks carping at each other. So be thankful. But, not too thankful, because unfortunately for you and every other literate human (or suitably enhanced non-human animal) with the misfortune to be reading this, I am now going to relay the contents of this debate, right here, right now. You’re going to have to think about the at least $2 million dollar Veyron, and you’re going to have to decide if it’s an engineering marvel worth universal admiration or a useless stunt that, really, just doesn’t matter.

Also, I guess I should mention that since I’m the one writing this post, this’ll be sorta biased, unless David comes in afterwards and adds a lot of editor’s notes. But I’ll convey his argument to the best of my – if not ability, then willingness – and include what he said in Slack, so you can see how woefully misguided he is for yourself.

Here’s my fundamental point: For all the attention and adoration and some other word that starts with “a” that the Veyron has gotten, it’s proven to be a car that just doesn’t really… matter. Let’s be honest, here: who really gives a shit about Veyrons?  [Editor’s Note: I do. I consider it the greatest automotive engineering marvel of my lifetime. What it offered in 2005 was mind-numbingly advanced. Nothing came close. -DT]. Do you see people driving them or racing them or, hell, even really enjoying them in any significant way? Or are almost all of them just helping to anchor air-conditioned garages safely to the Earth?

Sure, there’s the Tax The Rich guy who whipped his around for YouTube views, and that looked fun, though I bet you could have had about as much fun doing that in a 280Z or a Lada or a Supra or a Civic, and then there was that guy who crashed his Veyron into a lake because he let a pelican drive, or something. So, that’s what, 2 out of 450 total cars. I mean, I’m sure there’s a few more out there people are actually using in engaging ways, but if they are, they’re keeping it very, very quiet.

Yes, the Bugatti Veyron was an absolute technological tour-de-force, or, as David worships, “a moonshot:”

And yes, David, I still rip on them. Because of course it was an engineering marvel and the first “production” car to hit 1,000 hp and be able to hit over 250 mph: when you have a company with the resources of the Volkswagen Group effectively firehosing money and engineering talent at a project, yeah, of course it’ll be “insanely tech-forward.”

And it was tech forward, of course, but let’s take a moment and think about this: did any of the hyper-advanced tech that went into the Veyron actually end up influencing automotive technology as a whole? Was it technologically influential? Are W16 engines a big thing now, with quad turbochargers and eight-titanium-piston brake calipers found on cars all across the automotive spectrum? How about ten separate radiators? No. Fuck no. Because all that stuff is absurdly expensive and complex, as you would expect of a no-limits engineering tech-wank like the Veyron.

Hell, this is a car that has to have $42,000 tires, and those tires, that are specially adhered to the wheels with glue, and that glue is only guaranteed to be good for 18 months at a time, so you have to change tires every year and a half whether you drive the car or not, which, again, most owners do not. And every three tire changes means you need new wheels. How is this good engineering?

Oh, and if you were somehow able to really appreciate all of that magical, fantastical engineering that enables the Veyron to be able to achieve its stellar, awe-inspiring top speed of 267.856 mph, you could only do so for 15 minutes, because that’s how long the tires last at that speed. Oh, but you don’t have to worry about exceeding that limit, because the Veyron will empty its gas tank in 12 minutes at that speed, anyway.

So, for all of this incredible engineering that makes David’s genitals engorge and sets his soul afire and makes him say things like this:

… after all of this, the sum total time that this machine can live up to its true potential is 12 minutes. Then you’re pushing it back down the dry lake bed or wherever the hell you actually tried doing this (you’d need at least 50 miles of open, straight road, remember), and doing the math in your head for how much you need to spend on new tires or when your next $21,000 oil change is.

This is an idiotic machine.

And I even mean this in the greater context of supercars, a whole category I can’t say I’m especially fond of. Compare the Veyron to an earlier supercar, the Porsche 959. The 959, built from 1986 to 1993, pioneered a huge array of technological developments that are still extremely relevant today, like computer-controlled all-wheel drive and suspension, sequential turbocharging, and essentially setting the template for modern performance cars to this very day. The Veyron didn’t do anything like that. It was a technological triumph, sure, but a fragile, isolated one, a Galapagos tortoise of achievement, a dead end that influenced nothing in the greater automotive world.

[Ed Note: To understand the Veyron, you have to understand the context:

The Bugatti Veyron – a technical masterpiece When the Bugatti Veyron was first announced at the end of the nineties, many people were sceptical that the basic parameters could ever work. With more than 1,000 PS, a top speed in excess of 400 km/h, acceleration from nought to one hundred in less than three seconds, the doubters thought it simply impossible to produce a super sports car with this level of performance while remaining controllable and drivable. But that’s not all. Bugatti had set the bar even higher with its intention to produce a comfortable road car that was suitable for everyday use. The development of the Veyron was one of the most significant technical challenges ever undertaken by the automotive industry. Bugatti engineers had to push the limits of physics and do things that had never been done before in automotive development.

It was an unbelievably achievement, that led to the VW group’s first carbon ceramic brakes, the world’s first seven-speed dual clutch transmission, the first use of titanium bolts in a production car, advancements in carbon fiber monocoque manufacturing (for a production car), etc. etc. It was an amazing moonshot that we should all appreciate. -DT]. 

Now, I know what David is going to say about my take on this, because he’s said it:

And, generally, David is right about this sort of thing. He’s a real engineer, he can appreciate engineering achievements on a level that I’m sure I can’t. But I can’t agree this time. I’m not ignorant of the astounding technical achievements of the Veyron: I just don’t care. Because why the fuck should I? It can go crazy fast for 12 minutes and then you have to spend fancy new car money to just get it maintained again, but even doing that is unlikely, because most owners are not qualified to drive it at 250+ mph, don’t have the room to do it, and as a result can never appreciate the result of all that engineering cost and effort. The vast majority of Veyrons just sit in climate-controlled garages, and maybe get driven at speeds your average Corolla can handle with aplomb to a local Cars and Coffee or whatever.

David said he would own a Veyron if he could. And I respect that. But, at the same time, I honestly think David would be better served by owning, say, a Bugatti Veyron that had been cut in half, lengthwise, so you could see all of the advanced engineering within. It could be something he displays proudly in the Contemplation Room of his mansion, and he can wheel up a chair and sit in front of it, pondering its mysteries and wonder. That’d be a good use of a Veyron, especially because he already has a car that gets driven about as much as the average Veyron does, only without the added benefit of being a nursery for newborn kittens:

The Average Veyron ownership experience really isn’t all that different from David’s ZJ ownership experience, right?

I respect and adore David, but I do not entertain any illusions that he will understand my complete, full-body eye-roll at the Veyron. I just can’t see the point of this sort of engineering exercise when the end result is something that’s so inaccessible and rarified that it may as well not even exist [Ed Note: OK, so I assume you have a problem with automakers spending loads on F1 cars that consumers can never own? I know, you’re going to say “but people can watch them race.” Well, people can watch the Veyron on Top Gear and other programs (the Veyron episodes are amazing), and they can even see them on the street! (I saw one in Miami once; it was awesome).  -DT]. Maybe it was a moonshot, but at least the real moonshot had scientific and political value. The target of the actual moonshot was something in the sky that had figured massively in the dreams of humankind for millennia. The Apollo lunar landing program was a crucible that advanced computers, among other things, to the point where a whole computer revolution came directly afterwards.

The Veyron gave VW bragging rights, made Ferdinand Piëch feel cool, and gave some millionaires something new and exciting to tell the garage help to dust.

David does bring up one excellent point I should address, though:

The idea of saying “fuck it, let’s do it” and pulling off some sort of engineering feat is, absolutely, a wonderful thing. I too love that VW was once willing to do that! But I think they could have done that with much different, and much more interesting results.

Consider this: what if VW wanted to do some “fuck it, let’s do it” thing, but actually wanted to do something people could actually enjoy. Something that would actually affect people directly, bring something new and exciting into their lives? It could still be a technological marvel, too!

Here’s an idea: Volkswagen is actually the company that has produced more amphibious cars than any other company. Sure, it was a military vehicle, the Schwimmwagen, with over 15,000 built. The Amphicar, the next closest, only had 3,878 copies! So, what if VW’s moonshot was to make something like a Golf Cabrio-based amphibious car that would sell for, say, under $30,000? Pulling that off would be a hell of an achievement, it would get plenty of attention, be unique in the world (a mass-market affordable amphibious car you could buy easily at a major carmaker’s dealership) and, more importantly, could be accessible and enjoyable to really large numbers of people!

Amphibious cars may seem like a frivolous thing, but is it more absurd than building a handful of cars that can go 250+ mph for 12 minutes and that’s it? And costs millions of dollars and is devastatingly expensive to maintain? I don’t think so!

Look, as you can see, this argument is tearing us apart. We need all of you, the greatest collective automotive hive mind on the internet, to help settle this. Should I just shut up about the Veyron? Should David practice his Veyron-worship in the privacy of his own bathroom? I need your guidance here, before this turns ugly.

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