Hardcore Flagship Supercars Are Ruining Their Road-Biased Brothers

Picture the scene: you’re loaded. You have bags of money so deep that ocean liners could go sailing in them. You can buy whatever car(s) you want, because you can afford it without thinking twice. Faced with a model choice at the top of a range, which do you go for?

There’s the standard supercar, with its monumental power output, redline potentially skimming the clouds, presence on video games and universal fame across the globe. But there’s also the upgraded, hardcore version for [insert insane currency value here] more. It has more power and torque, lower and stiffer suspension, maybe no back seats and it’s faster – a couple of tenths to 62mph and a whole second or two around the Nurburgring.

We all know full well that the answer is the latter. As a rule, people who could afford to buy the 458 Speciale would never buy a standard 458. People who simply want the best Nissan GT-R will buy the Nismo version because, on paper, it’s the best one, and people with money often can’t bear to buy anything less than the best, regardless of whether or not it’s best for them.

In the eyes of the people that actually buy them brand new, the standard car is no longer as desirable as it was because there’s something better. They look down on the model that’s now second or even third best on paper, and surely that can’t be good for the car’s image. If the 911 GT3 plays second fiddle to the GT3 RS and GT3 R, what value does it retain?

Now, I’ve driven the standard and hardcore versions of both the dearly departed 458 and the Nissan GT-R, and I can tell you without hesitation that the standard versions are better road cars. This you’ve probably guessed without my help, because you’re into cars and know, at least in theory, the real-world pro/con relationships between a track setup and a road one. But with the hardcore special edition sitting above them in the range, are the standard cars’ reputations just being smeared by petty one-upmanship?

There’s a reason (several, to be fair) why you don’t see many 458 Speciales with 60,000 miles under their belts, and it’s because they’re not what you’d call comfortable or relaxing.

Don’t get me wrong. The Speciale is one of the most memorable cars I’ve ever driven, bringing a new meaning to the word ‘immediate’ in everything it does. Steering, brakes, throttle response, gear shifts – they’re all so sharp that it’s a miracle you don’t cut yourself to pieces. It’s an astonishing thing in that regard. But at the same time it’s harder than a stint in a Turkish prison.

The seats are pretty much solid and the suspension isn’t much softer. Brilliant on track, but on the road you find yourself desperately trying to avoid hitting raised ironwork, potholes and basically anything coarser than melted chocolate. I felt a more complete bond with the 458 un-speciale.

And yet, if I was horribly rich and standing in the Ferrari showroom a few years ago, would I have bought the less powerful, cheaper and better road car? No. If I was that sort of person I’d have avoided that model because it was less powerful and cheaper, and car makers know that’s how rich people think. It’s a strange situation when brilliant supercars simply aren’t cool or exclusive enough for their target buyers, and the manufacturers are actively making it happen. The profit margins are higher that way.

Perhaps it doesn’t matter. Maybe there are enough of us relative peasants in the world to ensure that even with hardcore upgraded editions in existence the standard cars are still revered. Unless you live in Kensington, Dubai or any other supercar hotspot then it’s rare enough to see them and it’s still a bit exciting when you do.

But track-biased specials still overshadow and diminish the image of the models from which they came. And that’s a shame.