I know this headline isn’t going to win me any friends, and I’m even a little surprised I’m writing this, but I’ve recently come to a realization: I haven’t had much fun in the recent 400+ horsepower cars I’ve driven.
It’s not because I’m so depraved that I don’t enjoy speed or power—I absolutely do. It’s sort of because I enjoy those things that I’m finding driving powerful cars a chore.
While I’ve always been more in the slow-car-fast school of thought, and while my own idiosyncratic preferences tend to ridiculous, low-HP cars, I’ve had amazing times in fast cars as well. I’ve driven 700 HP Lambos and evil-sounding 662 HP GT500s, the 662 HP SLS AMG Black, the 640 HP Viper SRT, and the famed 707 HP Hellcat—mostly on tracks, though.
And I’ve had a blast driving those cars, no question. That visceral gut-punch of power, the noise, the force of the acceleration trying to give you a kidneyectomy through the seat... I get it. Oh, I get it. There’s nothing quite like it.
But recently, three things conspired together that made me really re-evaluate how I felt about high-horsepower (which I’ll define as anything over 400 HP) cars: a 467 HP Lexus GS-F, a trip to Washington DC, and my home state being a jackass yet again.