All language subtitles for The.Not.Very.Grand.Tour.S01E01.The.Glory.and.The.Power.1080p.HEVC.x265-MeGusta[EZTVx.to]

Hello, viewers, and welcome

to the grand tour, the
glory and the power,

a general celebration of
the excellence of the engine.

Yes, you see in recent years,

the internal combustion
engine seems to have become

something of a whipping
boy for all the world's ills.

It has, and for that reason, it is
possible that within our lifetimes,

you will no longer be able to buy a
new internal combustion engine car

in britain, or, for that matter, in the us,

or Belgium, or the Netherlands,
or Spain, or Portugal...

Are you going to name all the countries?

I can.

Can you still do it if I drop that
cosworth dfv engine on your neck?

Er, no.

The point we're trying to make is that
everybody does have a bit of a downer

on the internal combustion engine,

but Hammond and I
think it's worth pointing out

that the engine is also rather brilliant.

We'll illustrate this by showing you
clips from films you've already seen.

Stuff like this...

The internal combustion
engine really is a remarkable...

Device?

Invention?

Thing!

Yeah, alright, Shakespeare.

The thing is, we believe nothing sums up

the wonders of internal combustion
better than a big, lumpy v8.

And this brings us to the time
we went to Detroit, to motown,

and while we were there, we
had a bit of a rummage around

in the modern muscle car toy box,

and then we hit the streets of
that great city to make some noises.

These are the toys we'll be using.

Three American muscle cars,

all of which have been tuned
to a tyre-shredding defcon one.

I have the Ford mustang rtr spec 3.

Mr slowly has what's called the exorcist.

And in his whining
dodge challenger demon.

Hammond has an erection.

To make this, they took a hellcat,
I drove one before on the show,

and just made it "more".

More of everything.

I have 840 horsepower.

A massive supercharger.

And on the bonnet there, or hood,

that's the biggest hood scoop
ever fitted to a production car. Ever!

Yeah!

Noise!

Noise in the city.

Bloody hellfire.

This car is tuned by hennessey.

They've taken a standard Camaro

and they've given it a
thousand horsepower.

Jesus Christ.

They haven't touched
anything else, only the engine.

Wheels and brakes are standard,
suspension and bodywork are standard.

It's all standard.

Except the power.

Jeez! I can't even steer it.

It's, it's... It's idiotic, honestly.

And yeah, though I walk in the shadow of
the valley of death, I will fear no evil.

Because I am the exorcist.

This may look small and
delicate compared to the other two,

but be in no doubt,

it has the muscle car credentials.

Yeah.

The fact is that the
engine in Hammond's car

is a push rod, two
valve, iron museum piece.

And may's car, yes, it has
a thousand horsepower,

but it's running on standard brakes.

This, this is just a little bit cleverer.

They haven't just put a
supercharger on it and left it at that.

They've stiffened up the
suspension and lowered it

and stiffened the anti-roll bars.

So it can do this.

Christ!

And it can do this.

Yes!

This then is the Anthony
Joshua of muscle cars.

Big and brawny, but it has brains as well.

Then there's its name.

It's the rtr, which stands for,

and I'm not making
this up, ready to rock.

These three cars then,

they're the perfect fairground rides

in our perfect petrol head theme park.

People travel all the way to Florida
to look at a man in a mouse suit

and watch an implausible
train have an unrealistic crash.

Why not come here
in your car and do this?

Woo!

What a day.

I just can't get over James
may is "the ex-que-cist".

I am surprised to see you
two so upbeat about this trip.

Why do you say that?

Well, you're always saying how
much you don't like muscle cars.

Yeah.

I just say that to annoy you.

Alright.

Nobody intelligent admits
that they like muscle cars,

but secretly, deep down,

everybody does.

They're like power rock ballads.

I mean, if you're
driving along with friends

and "don't stop believing"
by journey comes on the radio,

you say "this is rubbish,"
you huff and puff and turn it off.

If you're on your own and it comes on,

you turn it up and you sing along.

You do.

Chaps, did you know mine only comes

with one seat as standard?

Really?

What?

As standard, you get
one seat in a demon.

You can opt to have the others
put back in and it costs you a dollar.

Which seat do they put in as standard?

Full of love for our
thunderous muscle cars,

we decided to find out
which was the noisiest.

There were many locations we
could have used for this important test,

but eventually, we found one
that was absolutely perfect.

What is this place?

Well, it obviously was a theatre.

They built it on the site

of Henry Ford's first ever workshop.

And when I say theatre...

Wow.

It's the birthplace of
Henry Ford's business.

- Yeah.
- Then a theatre.

It's a car park. We can bring some
theatre back with our noise test.

Actually, there's a kind
of poetry to it, it's beautiful.

- Precisely.
- Not just bringing the poetry.

- Also the decibel-o-meter.
- Perfect.

So you can go and go first.

Why am I going first?

- I just said you can go first.
- He did. I heard him say it.

Since the owners feared
the noise from our engines

would bring down the crumbling roof,

we were given protective clothing.

We have to put this on
because there may be dust.

There will be dust.

Traction off.

I'll just make wheel spin.

Wheel spin, that just makes
a huge amount of noise.

- Are you ready?
- Yes.

Yeah, check it out.

I can see Jack shit.

- God, that's pretty horrible.
- How loud?

- Well, at its peak...
- Yep. - 125.2.

Well, wait a minute, you don't
know, you're the first to go.

- 125?
- Yeah.

The who,

widely regarded to be the
loudest rock band of all time.

- Yes.
- 126 decibels,

deep purple, a mere 117 decibels.

That car is louder than deep purple.

But probably a lot
quieter than my demon.

Any minute now, a paramedic
will be cutting his trousers off.

He should've taken
them off before he got in.

True, I don't know
why he wears trousers.

Here we go. Ready? In three, two...

Wait a minute, it hasn't done it.

Easy mistake.

We've all done it, forgotten
the key when you're donutting

in a Detroit theatre that's been
turned into a multi-storey car park.

Everybody's been there.

Okay. In three, two

- 125.2 to beat.
- Yeah.

Doesn't make a lot of noise.

118.8, tiptoe boy.

It's got 2.7 litre capacity
supercharger on it, it's...

- But it doesn't make any noise.
- Well, they didn't build it for this,

they built it for drag racing, and
they wouldn't let me do that, so...

- Did they?
- How do we know?

Well, they did.

Before this sore point
became even sorer,

I sent James off to have a go.

Don't think he's ever done a donut.

- In his life.
- No.

We are about to witness James d. May

losing his virginity.

Popping his donut cherry.

James may, are you ready?

Fire it up in three...

Cock.

Bollocks.

It took him a little while, but
eventually, he got the hang of it.

What's my score?

Why don't we just go?

- Well James, we've gotta go.
- Yep, moving on.

- What was it?
- I've wiped it.

- No you haven't.
- It was twelve.

Come on. Why've I got this
on my face? What was it?

It was 128, so just 2.8 more than me.

- So more.
- Yes.

- Hold that.
- Why?

Please just hold that.

I hate the victory dance.

- I hate the victory dance.
- Good, right, let's move on.

How much is your car? How much?

- 98, something like that?
- £98,000?

Yes.

40,000.

Yeah, but mine's better,
so it's more expensive.

- £40,000.
- Faster and louder.

720 horsepower, £40,000.

Am I the only person here
who understands muscle cars?

That's a ridiculous thing to say.

James may muscle car "understanderer"

is about as convincing as
James may drum and bass dj.

Look, my drum and bass
djing is not up for debate here.

We're here to celebrate the brilliance
of the engine, because I think I'm right

in saying that an engine
is the most complicated

and yet most dependable thing
that most of us will ever own.

Yes, you are right. If you
were to leave your mobile phone

out in the searing sun of
death valley for eight hours,

it would stop working.

But a car engine is expected
to spring immediately into life

or it's not good enough.

Yeah, or imagine if you'd
left, say, your dishwasher

out in the arctic winter
all day, that wouldn't work.

Your printer won't work anywhere,

and yet a modern car engine

I mean, you can have over 800 parts

and yet they just never let you down.

Car makers routinely
test down to minus 40.

At those temperatures, a human
being would get hypothermia

and die within five minutes.

But a car engine has to work perfectly.

Anyway, the thing about the grand
tour is we're not, despite appearances,

stuffy traditionalists about engines.

We have also embraced...

The hybrid.

We have. We're not talking
about dreary stuff, like the prius.

We're talking about a new
generation of hypercars.

Yes, now back when we were planning
the very first episode of grand tour,

Richard Hammond said that
the world's greatest hypercar

was the Porsche 918.

Jeremy Clarkson said
it was the McLaren p1,

and I, of course, said it
was the Ferrari the Ferrari.

To settle this important debate,

we got them all together

and took them to the spiritual
home of the hypercar, Portugal.

Spiritual home of the hypercar?

Yeah, I think I meant sardines.

What we have here then
are three incredible machines

which, at a stroke,

have made the traditional
super car look wooden,

and old-fashioned.

Welcome, everyone, to
the hypercar holy Trinity.

What a toy box today!

Sparks from jezza!

I don't think so, Hammond.

This could be so expensive.

Engage boost.

Pushing the ipas button!

And that gives me
another 170 horsepower.

Opening drs!

My Christ

bloody mi,

and here comes may
in the Ferrari the Ferrari.

That bloody car is trying to
kill me and I'm not even in it.

We could have played out there all day,

but before we ended
up in a £3 million crash,

we decided to start the tests to
see which of the cars was best.

We began by lining up the three
most exciting cars on the planet

for the drag race of all drag races.

Naturally, this meant
engaging launch control,

which, in the McLaren,
takes about a fortnight.

I have to have the
drive train in track mode,

the aero package in sport mode,

so that the rear end squats when I
set off and gives me more traction,

I have to have the drs
button pressed with my thumb

to keep the rear wing open,

which reduces drag obviously.

Launch control in the Porsche,
left foot on the brake, hard,

right foot on the throttle, hard.

Light goes green, left
foot off the brake, "pting"!

Launch button pressed for two seconds,

left foot on brake, right foot on throttle.

Press launch control, mash the throttle,

within four seconds, release the brake.

Three seconds later,

I have full boost and I have to
set off then within three seconds

or the entire system disengages.

I'm going to get this
wrong, just so you know.

I've got a lot to do in here.

I wasn't ready.

My god, that is quick.

Holy mother, did you see that?

Me, Jesus Christ!

It's all over the place.

Since it was clear I'd
got all my buttons wrong,

the chaps agreed to another run.

Sit-rep. The lights went green
before the boost was ready,

and I had the drs button still pressed

when I got to the end, which
meant I had no down force,

which meant well, poo came out.

This time, I'm going
to do it with more drag,

which will slow me down, but I will
be able to stop without killing myself.

Kers system charged, right.

Boost building.

Three, two...

And we are away. What a start!

Porsche has got off to a flyer!

Woah, balls.

180, 190, 210.

230 kph.

That wasn't very good.

Because James had
somehow messed up that time,

and because this test
was about the cars,

we decided to go again.

It's a rocket ship.

For england!

No, no!

Okay, we have all three won this now.

Determined to find a
definitive 1, 2, 3 finishing order,

we ran again.

Another totally different
result there, gentlemen.

And again.

That's a different result again.

And again.

At this point, we decided
to call a halt to proceedings,

because we had reached
a scientific conclusion.

It turns out that it doesn't
really matter which car you buy,

it all depends on your shoes.

Now, this is a tod loafer,

slightly worn to give a crisper jump
off the brake pedal and it's immediate.

Now this is a converse.

- There's more sponge than I thought.
- Yeah, mine's quite spongy...

See Adidas, they weren't
thinking that through.

- They weren't.
- See, as you lift your foot up...

It's a millisecond.

I know you've got kers, I
know you've got a 6.3-litre v12,

and I know that launch
control system's amazing,

but it's all let down by the
sponginess of the Adidas shoes.

So they should sell you
the car and the shoes.

No, more than that. Have
you got the correct shoes,

- and have you worn them in?
- Exactly.

Fresh shoes lads, I need to
just run around the track a bit...

They need to be run in.

You need to skid about. There we go.

Three heavyweights coming out
with cars like that at the same time.

I doubt we'll ever see a
moment like that again.

Horse poo.

Well, I was only saying it
was a moment. I mean...

No, I was thinking about how much
the car engine has changed the world,

starting with horse poo.

Explain.

Before we had the
internal combustion engine,

people went around on horses

and by the late 19th
century, in London alone,

there were about 50,000 of what
hg Wells called "the hairy enemy",

and they produced 750
tonnes of horse poo a day.

Our cities were literally
knee deep in dobbin plop,

and the car engine saved us from that.

It's more than that though,

because the car engine
opened our horizons.

In the 1800s, the average
American travelled 50 metres a day.

Now, the average person
travels 50 kilometres a day,

and some cover a lot more.

And that's good.

If we travel more, we
see more, we learn more,

and we don't have to just
marry whoever lives next door.

Which in my case...

Anyway, I think it's fair to say
there will never be an invention

as life changing as the internal
combustion engine ever again.

Good. Can we now talk about diesels?

Well, I'll tell you what about
diesels, actually, Hammond.

They make a noise like a
bag of spanners in a spin dryer,

they smell terrible, they don't rev enough.

They're only really good for
beasts of burden, like that tractor

that's over there, for some reason.

You're forgetting about the time
we were in Dubai a few years ago,

and I found a vehicle that put a
diesel engine to very good use.

This is called the ripsaw,

and it's built by a small American firm

who specialise in
extreme off-road vehicles.

Their customers are mainly the military

and the people who make
the fast and furious films.

However, if you have the money...

Look where we are!

You can have a ripsaw built just for you

as your own private runabout.

So, let's see what it's like.

And straight away, we
are in thumbs-up territory.

Gull-wing doors.

Safety.

It's a tank.

I'm in a tank. It's Matt black.

And I'm on the road!

Because each ripsaw is custom-made,

there is no definitive price list,

but I can tell you this one cost its owner

around £300,000.

For that, you get what's billed
as a high-end luxury super tank.

And if you're nine, which I am,

it doesn't get much better than that.

On the luxury front, I've got air con,

electrically adjusted
leather seats, stereo.

I mean, it's hardly a
Bentley bentayga in here,

but look at all the controls and switches.

I've got winches, work lights, a light bar.

And who doesn't want a
thunder birds style steering wheel?

Roundabout...

Yeah.

Ooh, yeah I'll be honest,
visibility is a bit poor out the sides,

it should get marked down for that.

And it turns out

visibility isn't the ripsaw's
only drawback as a city car.

So here I am,

at the shops, looking for a parking space,

as you do.

And well, you can see for yourself,

they haven't thought somebody
might turn up in one of these.

Thankfully, because the
ripsaw weighs nearly four tons

and is a tank, it can get round this issue.

There we go!

I think at the next management meeting,

they'll be having a serious rethink
about the width of their parking spaces.

Morning, shoppers.

To be fair, this is a
very big shopping centre,

this is easier than walking, it's miles.

Ooh, that reminds me,

I need to get cat food.

Although the ripsaw
is, in its own unique way,

a good town runabout, it's
definitely at its happiest...

Out here.

With a huge 6.6-litre diesel v8,

the standard ripsaw is acknowledged
as the fastest-tracked vehicle ever built.

But this particular ripsaw
is not the standard model.

In a normal state of tune,
it's 400 brake horsepower.

This one's been taken up to 700.

And 975 pounds-feet of torque.

Nearly four tons of off-road tank

travelling at 60 mph perfectly happily.

It is mighty.

An equally surprising
sensation is the ride.

I thought because it's
tracked, it'll just be solid

and incredibly brutal.

But it has suspension.

More suspension
travel than a range rover,

so it's supple.

Suddenly, it's more gazelle than rhino.

This thing rocks.

And when it comes
to bashing the dunes,

the ripsaw is in a league of its own.

A Land Rover discovery can
climb a gradient of about 45 percent.

This thing, 75.

That's damn near vertical.

Boom!

This is the moment
when, in desert driving...

"No what's beyond, what's beyond?"

But I'm not worried, because I'll be fine.

Yeah!

I've driven in deserts a lot,

never in something that
just feels this capable.

I mean camels are
good in the desert, yeah,

but this is better.

What a device.

I love this thing.

Well done, Hammond,
you've ruined everything.

What?

Well, we're supposed to be celebrating
the glory and the power of the engine,

and you've brought diesel into it.

Yeah, in a really cool tank thing.

Well, why don't you
just sit there and consider

what a completely damp
dishcloth you've been,

and I will bring everything back on track.

I believe that this nation
should commit itself

to achieving the goal,
before this decade is out,

of landing a man on the moon
and returning him safely to the earth.

When president Kennedy
made that speech to congress

in 1961,

he gave the scientists at
NASA a planet-sized headache.

Now, let me try and put the size of that
headache into some sort of perspective.

When Kennedy said those words,

america's total experience in space

amounted to just one
15-minute suborbital flight

that reached an altitude of
just 116 miles above the earth.

By contrast, a journey to the moon

was 238,000 miles.

And no rocket existed
that was powerful enough

to get the astronauts there.

And even if they did
reach their destination,

there was then the immense
challenge of getting them home again.

Nevertheless, the brains
at NASA knuckled down

and, throughout the 1960s,

set about developing
and testing the rockets

and the technology that would be
needed to crack this monumental nut.

However, machinery on
its own was not enough.

Equally important to the
success of the space program me

were the astronauts.

Now, these men were
generally of a type.

They were fighter jocks and test pilots,

and they were very familiar with
moving around at very high speed.

So, and I did promise
we'd get some cars into this,

when it came to moving
around on the face of the earth,

there was one car they
favoured above all others.

The corvette.

America's "premier" sports car.

The big love-in between the
American astronauts and the corvette

started with Alan Shepard,

the first American in space in 1961.

And on his safe return to earth,

he was given a free
corvette by general motors,

a sort of medal for
services to the country.

However, even though
Shepard was deemed worthy

of a ticker tape hero's
welcome by the American public,

NASA saw astronauts like
him as government employees,

and, as such, unable to accept free gifts.

So, an enterprising corvette dealer

near the cape Kennedy
space centre in Florida

came up with a cunning idea.

They offered the astronauts a special
deal whereby they could lease a corvette

for the enormous sum of... One dollar.

Now, NASA couldn't complain about that,

because technically the cars
weren't free, they were being paid for.

So all the astronauts bit his hand off.

Gus Grissom, the second
American in space, had one.

So did Gordon Cooper, a man so cool

he actually fell asleep on the
launch pad while waiting for liftoff.

Jim Lovell, the hero of the ill-fated.

"Houston, we've had a
problem" Apollo 13 mission,

he too was a corvette man.

Basically, in the '60s and '70s,

cape Kennedy and the
surrounding roads were awash

with spacemen driving
one-dollar corvettes.

But it was the holy Trinity of
Shepard, Cooper and Grissom

who were the real petrol heads.

The good news for them was that
the space centre here at Kennedy

was criss-crossed with
lovely wide straight roads,

which NASA engineers
used to move stuff about,

I.e. Rockets.

But that meant, as far as those three
were concerned, they were in heaven.

They'd come to places like
this after work and just drag race

the hell out of their cars, and
then they'd have them modified,

and then they'd drag
race them a bit more.

Gordo Cooper allegedly had
his car modified up to 180 mph,

and he and Gus Grissom
even used to go and pit crew

for a racing team if
they had a weekend off.

They liked cars.

By 1969, just inside Kennedy's deadline,

NASA was ready to try
landing some men on the moon.

The astronauts chosen were
buzz aldrin, who drove a corvette,

Neil Armstrong, who drove a corvette,

and Mike Collins, who drove a beetle.

Presumably, that's why they
left him in the command module

and didn't let him walk
on the lunar surface.

The rocket that would take
them there, the saturn 5,

was and remains the most
complex machine ever built.

It was constructed of
three million components,

all of them provided, as
the astronauts used to joke,

by the lowest bidder.

And it stood as tall
as a 30-storey building.

Ignition sequence starts.

Six, five, four, three, two, one, zero.

All engines running.

Liftoff, we have a liftoff.

32 minutes past the hour.

Liftoff on Apollo 11.

At blast-off,

these five engines produced
7.5 million pounds of thrust.

During the first stage burn,

the rocket produced enough power

to light the whole of
New York for 75 minutes.

It burnt its fuel at a rate
of 20 tonnes per second

and just 2.5 minutes after
launch, nearly all of it was gone.

Leaving just enough to take
the three astronauts to the moon

and return them safely to earth.

And even though 411,000
of america's brightest minds

were fully engaged in
this perilous endeavour,

sending three men to the moon,

bringing them home safely again,

they were still very much constrained
by the technology of the day.

If you have a Ford fiesta,

the engine management
system in your car

has 10,000 times the computer
processing power that they had.

- Eagle to Houston, do you read?
- Loud and clear.

When the astronauts finally
approached the surface of the moon,

the landing was not without drama.

Okay, flight controllers,
gonna go for landing.

The designated spot was full of craters...

Eagle, Houston, you are go for landing.

Forcing Armstrong to fly manually

and look for another place to set down.

Four forward, drifting
to the right a little.

Okay, engine stop.

Mode control, both auto. Descent
engine command override off.

We copy you down, eagle.

Houston, tranquillity base here.

The eagle has landed.

When they finally landed, they had
just 20 seconds of fuel remaining.

But no matter, they
were down on the moon.

That's one small step for man,

one giant leap for mankind.

Back on earth, a
hero's welcome awaited.

And once he got home,
Armstrong, like so many astronauts,

would swap the seat in his spacecraft

for a seat in a corvette.

And when I say corvette,

I mean this actual corvette.

This one.

This was his.

My word.

I'm turning onto the
space shuttle runway.

It's three miles long.

Here are some enormous skid marks
left by the wheels of the space shuttle.

But this is Neil Armstrong's corvette!

His hands were here. He
looked at the instruments like that.

He touched that.

Neil Armstrong!

The first person to set foot
somewhere other than the earth.

I mean, almost a quarter of the
world's population watched him live.

The owner of this car, when he
realised what it was he'd found,

decided not to restore it.

He would leave it exactly as it was.

He would just do enough to make it run.

So he hasn't done the paint,
he hasn't replaced bits in here.

This is all exactly as he found it.

There's patina on the bonnet there.

There's a scuffed bit
on the door. It's real.

Hello, rev counter.

Neil Armstrong's
looked at you, hasn't he?

I think a huey is coming.

There's mr huey,
there's the evocative one.

Those are the two sounds
of the sixties, aren't they?

That one and the sound of Neil
Armstrong speaking from the moon.

Neil Armstrong's Chevrolet corvette.

Love it. Love it!

What an honour.

- Moving stuff, James.
- Thank you.

And, as you rightly say, what an honour.

It was actually, it really was.

Just one question remains.

What the grunting heck has
that got to do with engines?

Weren't you listening?

It had the saturn v in it, rocket engines.

No, I'm sorry, problem here is you've
dragged this thing completely off course,

and it's down to me
to bring it back into line

by coming up with the
top five best engines.

Actual petrol engines, I should stress.

I don't want you suggesting a film
about the flying scotsman or something.

- Well, since you mention it...
- no!

Okay, best engines ever.

- Yes.
- I give you

the single-cylinder engine
from the Honda super cub.

Small, simple, faultlessly reliable.

They've made well north
of 110 million of them.

That has to be the greatest
mobiliser of people in history.

Yeah, but what if you want
production numbers and power?

I give you the Chevy small block.

The Americans have made
over a hundred million of them,

and they have transported
Americans for over 15 trillion miles.

- Wow.
- That's like travelling

to the sun and back 80,000 times.

In a car?

Yeah. That's why they've
got sun visors. You can do it.

Well, I'll tell you what,
if it's a v8 you want,

and since there just happens to be
one over your shoulder on that stand,

what about the cosworth dfv?

Almost certainly the most
successful racing engine of all time.

That has entered 262 formula 1 races,

and won 155 of them,
that's well over half.

If Clarkson were here,

I expect he'd want us to
mention the v10 and the Lexus lfa,

because it is powerful, it's soulful,

and the noise it makes is tuned by
the people who make yamaha pianos.

If he were here, he'd want us probably
to mention the w16 in the chiron.

- Yes.
- Which is a heck of an engine.

And we've got a film here

about one being driven by a fat ape

on his way to a date with a contessa.

Right, what all these
people are looking at,

it's called the chiron, and
there's no other way of saying this,

it's the fastest car in the world.

Obviously, it isn't the fastest
car in the world right now,

because I'm sort of going
round the port in Saint-Tropez,

but this in fact is the
Bugatti's party piece.

But think about it.

This is a 1,479 horsepower,

261 mph rocket ship.

It is engineering taken to the Max,

and then some.

And yet, I'm doing 20 mph

and it feels like a golf.

It's like concorde.

Anyone in the sky in the 1960s
who's doing twice the speed of sound

was wearing a g-suit.

But on concorde, they were
doing twice the speed of sound

while wearing a lounge suit,

sipping from a glass
of château margaux.

That was the brilliance of concorde,

it was right at the edge of
what was technically possible,

but it felt normal.

That's what the Bugatti's doing here.

Eventually, I emerged from the
summer-long Saint-Tropez traffic jam

and joined the motorway,

home turf for the chiron and
the monster that powers it.

It's an 8-litre monster with 16 cylinders

and enough grunt to make kilometres

feel like inches.

We all thought the
veyron was fairly amazing,

but this has "out-amazinged" it.

Let me give you a few
of the headline statistics.

The chiron accelerates
from 0 to 186 mph

faster than a Toyota hatchback
accelerates from 0 to 60.

Flat-out,

this will drain its fuel tank...

Ready? In nine minutes.

And to put that in a language
the youth can understand,

it's like drinking seven
shot glasses full of petrol

every second.

The chiron has ten radiators.

That's more than I've
got in my apartment.

And then there's the water pump,

which sends 200
gallons of water a minute

round the engine.

That could brim a bath in 12 seconds.

Firemen use less
powerful pumps than that.

Okay.

What I'm going to do
is demonstrate to you

the difference between

a really fast car and a Bugatti chiron.

80, 96, 105, 130, 154,
163, 200, 207, 223...

Hell!

Drag race over.

I got back on the road.

And my skates on.

Not that you could actually
hear that I had my skates on.

The only really odd noise you
get in a chiron is the whoosh

of the turbo-charging system. Ready?

It's actually relaxing.

It sounds like small wavelets

breaking on a tropical beach, here we go.

What this car is

is just a really nice
comfortable place to sit

while it gets on with the business

of smashing continents.

And that's exactly what it'd
have to do if I were to be on time

for my dinner date with
the contessa in turin.

Happily, I soon left France,

where they rip your fingernails
out if you break the speed limit,

and entered Italy
where, so far as I can tell,

speeding isn't really
seen as a crime at all.

I was once pulled over
by the police in Italy

when I was driving a lamborghini,

and they told me I wasn't
driving quickly enough.

"It's a lamborghini, when you leave here,

you drive like the wind."

This is my instruction from the police.

Right, it's 47 miles to turin,

I've got 45 minutes to get there,

and I'm never late.

I'm pathologically punctual.

By taking the police advice
and driving like the wind,

I made it to the outskirts of turin

with 11 minutes to go.

And I had to spend one of those
minutes getting changed in the bogs

at a motorway service station.

Right.

I have got nine minutes

to make this rendezvous.

This should be interesting.

There was a film called
rendezvous made in the 1960s

when someone tried to
cross Paris in nine minutes.

Well, now it was time to put that
16-cylinder engine in race mode

and make an homage to that.

20 seconds.

Made it.

Well, if you were wondering who
the next James Bond is gonna be,

that's narrowed it
down a bit: It's not him.

Well, unless they want to take
the character in a sort of fatter,

more out-of-breath direction.

Yeah. So far, in our
celebration of the engine,

we've looked at petrol powered v8,

v12, and just then, w16

yes, and thanks to Hammond,
it's also featured a "diseasal".

And thanks to James, some
inexplicable stuff about astronauts.

It had corvettes in it, you dimwit.

Whatever.

Before we end our
celebration of the engine,

we feel it's quite important
that we issue a dire warning.

In some circumstances,

use of an engine can lead
to your house blowing up.

And for evidence of it, we must return

to our test of the holy
Trinity of hypercars.

It was time to bring in a racing driver,

to see which of our cars
could do the fastest lap.

Jérôme d'ambrosio,

who's done formula 1 and formula e.

Once the mechanics had
finished their preparations,

the three-speed traps were activated.

And the Ferrari the Ferrari
took its place on the start line.

Look how good it looks there.

This is just wasting time,
it's wasting rubber and fuel.

- No, this is like an amuse bouche.
- Yeah, it is.

You've ordered the
duck and the Sherry trifle.

And you're a melon ball.

I'm not even listening.

- Gentlemen...
- Right.

It was doing 231.4 kph
at the end of the straight.

That's about the same
speed as like a golf diesel.

194.9.

Going down the hill using gravity assist.

- Is he stopping off for shopping?
- He must be.

Here he is.

Thank you very much, James.
You want to go and get a cup of tea?

Well, we've warmed the track.

Next, it was the turn of the Porsche 918.

How much faster will it go
because of the stripes, do you think?

Much.

231 point... So he's
faster than the Ferrari.

That's 183.0.

Way, way, way slower than him.

Don't forget between here
and the next measuring point,

okay, you've got four slow corners,

and those are the ones where the
Porsche is going to make up the time.

- Because of the four-wheel steering.
- Like a Honda prelude.

No!

- 110.
- 110 point what?

One.

So almost to a tenth
of a kilometre an hour,

the same speed as you.

Here it comes, there's firing noises.

There it is, look at that.

Finally, it was the
turn of the psycho killer,

the trickiest, the edgiest of the three.

But I was so confident it'd win,

I was prepared to
take a massive gamble.

If the McLaren isn't the fastest,

you two can knock my house down.

- What?
- Knock it down.

- What, your house?
- Yeah.

And I mean that.

That's how confident I am
that that will be the fastest.

- That's a... you know we will do that.
- Yeah.

- It's a serious bet.
- Yeah.

- Fine.
- If that's not the fastest,

- we can knock your house down.
- Yep.

- You know where it is, you've both been.
- Yeah.

I'd love to knock it down.

Here we go. A lot riding on this.

235.9.

Okay, it's fastest at the
end of the first straight.

Would you like to come
to my house for dinner?

Yes, can I bring a bulldozer?

188.3.

That is worryingly quick.

- It's quite brisk.
- There's no... it's quite brisk?

We don't know how fast it's
going round the tight turns.

It might have been
doing 2 kph round here.

God...

Where is he?

Crashed.

With that, back to the tent.

Thank you so much.

Now, I want to make it absolutely plain,

because I know this matters to anoraks,

all three cars were running on
exactly the same sort of tyres.

Yes, same tyres,
same track, same driver.

So the times are down to the cars.

Yep. And now, it is time
to reveal those times.

And let me just make it absolutely clear,

- we don't know what they are.
- No.

The producers have kept
them from us, they're top secret.

- Yeah.
- So let's put the scoreboard up

and let's begin with the
Ferrari the Ferrari, I believe.

Let's see what it did it in, please.

1:54.4.

We don't know if that's any good, do we?

No, well.

Let's move on and do the
Porsche next, let's have a look.

What did the Porsche do it in?

Yes!

1:54.2!

Yes, yes!

You see? You said it
would mince the Porsche,

and it didn't mince it, it
was slower than the Porsche.

I told you, it's just a melon ball.

It's slower than my car,

which was faster than your car!

Yeah, point two of a
second, and it looks better.

Yeah, it did, in my mirror,
where it belongs getting smaller.

It's a melon ball and it lost.

- Hammond. Calm down.
- What?

- Alright.
- Because now,

we must bring up the
time that really matters.

- Yeah.
- The one where a lot's at stake.

The McLaren... the McLaren p1.

- Are you nervous? Sure?
- No. No.

- Little bit?
- No, I'm not nervous.

Why be nervous? You could get
a trolley to keep your things in it,

move it about,

make some new friends
under a bridge somewhere?

- Hammond...
- I'd say sell your body, don't do that.

Be quiet.

Let's... let's bring up the
time of the p1, here we go.

God...

Where is it?

Yeah!

So, when we said that use of
an internal combustion engine

could cause your house to blow up,

we weren't being strictly
accurate, were we?

Well, no, it doesn't
just blow up on its own.

It needs a bit of help.

Short ceremony, say a few words?

Nah...

- That...
- That got it.

Well, as they used to say in the adverts,

come home to a real fire.

And that concludes our celebration
of our old friend, the engine.

We hope you've enjoyed
what you've seen. If you haven't,

please address your
complaints to Jeremy Clarkson,

care of Jeremy Clarkson's
farm, clarksonshire.

And don't forget to fill
the envelope with wasps.

Goodbye.