LET’S take the easy question first: Is the Koenigsegg CCX worth 669,000 euros, or $1.05 million in our currently scrawny American currency? For most owners of mere $200,000 Ferraris — let alone mortals with $20,000 minivans — the answer is an emphatic no.
Courtesy of Universal Autosports
CONTROL CENTER The interior is getting an update.
But for oil-drenched Saudis, collectors who have already lost count of the exotic cars in their garages and those driven to explore uncharted territory between 200 and 245 miles an hour — otherwise known as freaks — the 2008 Koenigsegg awaits.
Specifically, 35 Koenigseggs. That is roughly the annual worldwide production of this super Swede, giving the Koenigsegg the kind of exclusivity that makes a Porsche seem like a Pontiac.
Of course, most people know what a Porsche is. Some can even pronounce it correctly (with two syllables). Koenigsegg, in contrast, sounds like a high-end line of kitchen fixtures: “Yeah, I went with the Koenigsegg six-burner range and the wine chiller to match.”
For the record: the name is pronounced KOH-nig-segg and the machine won’t braise a capon. But it does kick out the B.T.U.’s like few other cars, with 806 horsepower (1,018 in the ethanol-burning CCXR version) from a 4.7-liter V-8 with twin superchargers.
This ultralight supercar, built largely of carbon fiber, is the work of Christian von Koenigsegg, a designer and investor from a wealthy Swedish family. Mr. Koenigsegg, 36, has said that his inspiration came when he was 5 years old and his father took him to see a Norwegian puppet movie about a bicycle repairman who invents the world’s greatest sports car.
Still in his mid-20s when he created his first prototype in 1996, Mr. Koenigsegg, who turned 36 last Wednesday, has built and sold a handful of cars since 2002, and this CCX is the first version that is street-legal in the United States. Like a long line of solo automakers before him, the effort marks Mr. Koenigsegg as either a visionary or an obsessed eccentric.
After test-driving the car, I’d lean toward the former. The ’Segg is a sweetheart on the road, and for more than just its 3.2-second rip from 0 to 60 miles an hour; its quarter-mile run in 9.9 seconds at 146 m.p.h.; or its roughly 245 m.p.h. top speed. I suspect that most owners will never top 200, even on a closed track, or hire an unemployed racer to do it for them. Yet that top speed puts this velociraptor in the company of the world’s fastest street cars, including the $1.4 million Bugatti Veyron and the even-more obscure SSC Ultimate Aero.
Where some supercars, like the Saleen S7, are ill-suited to the street, the Koenigsegg is a Star Trek fantasy that manages to keep one boot on the earth.
Yet a fantasy it is, a fact that was apparent when we backed the midengined Koenigsegg from a covered trailer in suburban New Jersey, accompanied by its owners from Universal Autosports. This recently opened exotic showroom in Glen Cove, on Long Island, will be one of only two Koenigsegg dealers in the United States.
The improbable sight of the CCX on the streets of Englewood Cliffs, draped over the pavement like a shimmering electric-blue sea creature, made me burst out in laughter. The car seemed so improbable and so out of place that some passers-by barely noticed it — the way you might react if you bumped into Scarlett Johansson at the 7-Eleven. But when a car nut spots the Koenigsegg, watch out: youngsters zigzaged through traffic to catch up for a precious cellphone shot.
While you might expect an overpowered kit car with rough edges, the Koenigsegg revealed handcrafted details inside and out. Unlike most scissor-type doors, which are cumbersome to operate or block your entry and exit, these “dihedral synchro-helix” doors are a feat of elegant engineering. Swing your arm outward as you would with a conventional portal, and the doors smoothly rotate forward while pivoting away from the body. Just take care not to whack a curb when opening the door.
Yet this wouldn’t be a supercar without some quirks and sacrifices. Wide door sills must be negotiated before you get comfy in the one-piece carbon-fiber buckets covered in Alcantara suede. (Headroom is notably good for such a low-riding machine).
The removable targa top hogs what little cargo space there is under the hood. There’s virtually no rear visibility, only a back-up display screen that washes out in sunlight. The tachometer didn’t even display the engine’s redline. (Coming models will get a markedly upgraded instrument display).
My nitpicking duties completed, and with the dealership’s owner, Giacomo Ciaccia, at my side, we headed north along the Hudson River toward West Point, N.Y. The Koenigsegg began to tug at its leash, eager to retrieve anything in its path. With the roof stowed, the superchargers-in-stereo whistled and gulped air behind my baking head.