Hans Von Spannagel and the McLaren 720s
“Tip the world on its side and everything loose will land in Los Angeles...
”
The oft used phrase ‘Anything could happen’ usually accompanied by a shrug, and employed to end a conversation, doesn’t exist in Los Angeles. Elsewhere it’s a byword for something that is not going to happen. One of the reasons that I love Los Angeles is because at any time, to any person and for no reason whatsoever, anything really can happen.
Case in point:
Hans Von Spannagel.
The name itself suggests adventure and life-affirming peril. A Jules Verne baddie. Hans delivers on the promise of his name. He provides adventure and peril through the medium of high-performance sports cars. I met him when he pulled up outside my place of work in a McLaren GT. He handed me his business card which was as thick as an iPad.
You work here?
Yes.
Wanna ride in the McLaren?
Yes
I know.
I tell my kids all the time - do not get into a stranger’s car. But he had a very impressive business card. And he was offering me a go in a McLaren. And in the back of my mind, I had a feeling that I recognized as ‘oh, here’s one of those LA moments again.’
Turns out the GT was an appetizer. The amuse-bouche to a red meat entree of metallic gold carbon fiber fury. A McLaren 720s.
This is a bit more fun. Here, catch!
I can’t remember what the key looked like. Did I insert it into anything? Was there a big ‘start’ button? No idea. I was too busy working out how to open the door. There’s probably a fancy name for the hinges. I couldn’t help but think of rabbit ears.
The space from the door to the seat seemed very wide. It was tricky to get in if you’re used to Toyota Corrolas and Honda Accords. I have some trousers I wouldn’t be able to wear in this car. Once inside though, everything was more recognizable. It had the same screens and dials as my Toyota. The figures on them were just a little larger. There was a switch for the heat and AC. There was a screen with stuff on it that Hans was talking about. I know this because I saw his mouth moving. I couldn’t concentrate though, because I’d just pressed a button labelled ‘track’, and the entire dash of the car was folding in on itself like a scene from Inception.
Apparently, the dash and the car have two settings. One for normal driving, where you have a bunch of dials much like any other car. And another for spirited driving (Hans’s phrase) which has just a rev counter and speedometer. This is on the opposite side of the binnacle. The whole thing pivots like a spit roast. It’s quite dramatic. The 720s is all about drama.
With the drive mode and dash in ‘track’, you also get to choose an option called ‘launch’. Of course I did.
It was dramatic. It made me think of zombies and the movie World War Z. If you’ve seen the movie, you’ll no doubt remember the scene at the beginning, set in a traffic jam. Filmed in Glasgow, interestingly. Anyway, a hoard of zombies remorselessly makes its way through the hapless stationary cars, feverishly murdering and thus converting their occupants into new zombies, who then join the ever-increasing throng, infecting others along the way, as they race inexorably and terrifyingly, with exponential blood lust, towards Brad and his family. How are they going to survive?! Will this tide of terror and increasing noise ever stop? The screaming zombies are right behind my head. Something just punched me in the kidneys. They’re tapping my arm!
Ewan, you might want to slow down now.
What?
100mph in Beverly Hills isn’t a small ticket.
Yeah...wait. What? How?!
The 720 in the McLaren 720s’s name stands for 720 horsepower. That’s over three Golf GTIs. Four and a quarter Corollas. I learned to drive in a Citroen 2CV. The McLaren has over twenty-five times as much power. It’s genuinely scary. But, much like a zombie horror movie, addictive and gratifying to boot.
Here’s how a full bore launch goes in a 720s if you’re a middle-aged man who’s used to driving small fuel-efficient cars, have a penchant for horror movies, and sometimes cry at TV adverts featuring dogs:
Press track.
Marvel at the swiveling screen, realizing that the lack of instrumentation on the ‘track’ side of the binnacle allows you to focus more on the road. And your speed going down it.
Hold down the ‘launch’ button. Some systems turn off. Best not think too much about them…
Press the accelerator pedal with your right foot. Hard. All the way down. Keep your left foot firmly on the brake pedal. There’s a supernatural connection between your right foot, the engine noise, and vibration. The pedal knew my size 11 was coming before I did.
5000rpm appears on the tiny dash tachometer. Computers somewhere are limiting it.
When you’re ready, just let off the brake.
Bang.
That was my head hitting the seatback.
50,000 zombies erupt in anger over my shoulder. The sound isn’t friendly. We want to eat you!
All of a sudden you’re in the launch bay of the Battle Star Galactica. The flashing neon lights are replaced by storefronts on Olympic Boulevard. There’s a Starbucks. What?!
I wonder when we’ll actually get robot dogs?
Thwack. Jesus. Was that a gear change? I didn’t want...thwack, there’s another.
Someone in a Camry changes lanes in front of you. Somehow, without any conscious thought and with nary a twitch of your wrists, you bypass it. Thwack. Haha. It’s getting fun now.
Red traffic light.
Huuunnnnnnggggg. You press the brake pedal as you would in your normal car. Somehow you stop 50 yards before the light. Your glasses are halfway down your nose. You breathe and listen intently for the sound of sirens.
Clear.
Less than five seconds have elapsed. How the hell is this thing legal?
Hans Von Spannagel laughs. He’s seen this before.
Pretty cool, right?
Right. Very cool.
Time to press track again and get back to some kind of normality. The dash swivels. The zombies calm down. OK, focus. Let’s just get back to work and have a cup of tea. Hans reaches over while we’re still at the light and presses a button I hadn’t noticed.
Let’s try it with the roof off.
Terminator servo sounds. The roof cracks open. A movement behind me in the vicinity of the zombies. The whole midsection of the car lifts up. Are we in a Transformer?! Is Micheal Bay going to jump out and yell cut? Blue sky and warmth fill the cabin. The car comes back together. The lights change to green.
And we’re in a convertible.
If we were in the UK, someone would have thrown an apple core or empty can of Coke at us. But this is Los Angeles and people know that this kind of thing happens all the time.
Do a launch with the roof off. You can really hear the engine this way.
OK.
Where’s that ‘track’ button again...