Two fast cats scream their way through the mountains
Savage. Utter savagery is what the F-type SVR is. It’s Ironic trying to enjoy such a beautifully lit, recently repaved squiggly road when all you can think about is how not to dip too deep into the go pedal. The road is Yerba Buena, in the Malibu Hills, just before sunset. Golden hour, as they say, was being hunted by an angry cat running wild through the mountains. Lady Gaga’s Chromatica album is on repeat, and although her name isn’t Alice, we’ve definitely found wonderland.
The 575 horsepower supercharged thunder still rings through my mind when I think of the SVR. With all wheel drive the car seems oddly different in character. By now I’ve driven every single variant of the F-type minus the 4 cylinder because, well, who cares. None feel as planted or hunkered down as the SVR. Honestly theres something unnatural going on. It’s definitely a car you have to wrestle with a little bit, but that makes it exciting.
Yin & Yang
Driving the SVR back to back to the older, less wheel driven XF-RS, it’s immediately apparent the mission of the F-type is vastly different. XF-RS still has the dual personality thing going on. Both have various modes and checkered flag buttons, but in the SVR they don’t seem to change anything. It’s always loud and ready to attack all the time. The XF-RS can be a bit rowdy too, but knows how to calm down after your hit of adrenaline subsides. That car is more suave. The SVR is all Mr. Hyde but ditches Dr. Jekyll altogether. There’s something disgusting about that, but in the best way possible. This is Britain’s best, most violent muscle car, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Gaga is popping a 911 as I grapple the windy loop at the top of Yerba buena, how appropriate.
The two share many parts including the engine, and transmission, but the way they utilize them are pretty different. The noise is similar, but the volume is just stuck on max in the SVR. They both love to shove you back into the seat (so long as the rear wheel driven XF-RS has enough traction). They both have the sauce. The special Jaguar something you can’t put your finger on but it’s present in both. It’s a good feeling. Beyond that, these cars drive with different attitudes. The XF is smoother in almost every way, the ride, the lighter steering, the way it enters and exits corners. It’s just less of a sports car, understandably. An odd side effect of that smoothness is less required thinking having to be done by the driver. That can sometimes translate into the impression that you’re using more of the car’s available potential, if that makes any sense at all.
Ultimately the two compliment each other, the high points of each driving experience are what separate them but in a beautifully appropriate way. Going back and fourth between the two only heightens my appreciation for both beasts. The real shock comes when you look down at the insane numbers these cars put down on the speedo, and there’s no doubt in my mind the SVR will crack 200 mph with relative ease. Change the song though because if I hear “Stupid Love” one more damn time, I’m gonna lose it.
Driving an F-type SVR is an experience, an occasion. The engineers made it that way for a reason. It’s something special. you feel extremely accomplished after any time behind the wheel of it. I haven’t driven something this exciting since the Shelby GT350. In fact, this might be one of the few cars out there that can go toe-to-toe in a barking contest with the Shelby. Angry and vicious, maybe more so than the Shelby at times, I’m falling in love with this car. Oh yeah we also had the two M2s there, and two Garrets, just for good luck.
How about that road though. I’ll admit, this one really grew on me. I wasn’t always a fan of Yerba Buena, but it’s been renewed, rejuvenated. Well most of it, anyway. The first couple miles up from PCH is still a tire munching mess. Once you hit the new pavement you’ll be singing right along with Gaga about how you’re now a free woman. The road twists and turns through the west end of the Santa Monica Mountains for about 11 miles till you run into Mulholland Highway at the top end. Admittedly a smaller, less powerful car (Miata) would be much better on a tight road of this type, but alas here we are, enjoying the fresh new tarmac, a rare thing in these parts. Perhaps one of the best part of experiencing this road is the wonderful views and scenery you pass along the way. Massive mountain ranges, grassy valleys, fog banks, big open spaces, viewpoints, rock formations, it just never seems to end. California never fails to impress in that respect. By the end, Gaga’s “Replay” was blaring through the speakers just to shut out some of the relentless V8 growl, but replay that whole road was exactly what I wanted to do. In all, a pretty spectacular day.