Story

How the Bugatti Veyron Redefined What a Road Car Could Be

Two decades later, the Bugatti Veyron still feels less like a car and more like a punctuation mark—an emphatic, titanium-reinforced period at the end of an era when engineers were still supposed to color inside the lines. Before electrification rewrote the rules and before hypercar became a marketing category, the Veyron arrived and casually doubled the world’s expectations. Not nudged. Doubled.

For Loris Bicocchi, the man tasked with finding the edge of that madness—and then leaning on it—the Veyron didn’t just reset benchmarks. It erased them.

Bicocchi wasn’t new to Bugatti when the Veyron program began. In the early 1990s, he had already helped shake down the EB110 GT and the even more feral EB110 SS, cars that proved Bugatti’s four-wheel-drive obsession could coexist with genuine supercar violence. Those machines were fast enough to recalibrate your sense of speed. The Veyron, however, demanded a factory reset.

When Bugatti called in 2001, Bicocchi knew only the rumors. Everyone did. A thousand horsepower. Four hundred kilometers per hour. Sixteen cylinders. Sixteen. Even today, the spec sheet reads like a typo. Back then, it sounded like science fiction whispered through paddocks and test tracks.

His first drive came at Michelin’s Ladoux test facility in Clermont-Ferrand, in a red-and-black prototype that carried more expectations than body panels. Bicocchi didn’t wait for the official schedule. He climbed in on Sunday, before the engineers arrived, just to feel the thing. By Monday morning, he was vibrating with impressions.

And disbelief.

At the time, the Veyron produced roughly twice the power of anything else you could theoretically register and insure. That wasn’t a performance gap; it was a canyon. Bicocchi, a driver whose résumé included the fastest cars of their respective generations, had nothing to compare it to. There was no mental filing cabinet labeled “what this feels like.” Full throttle wasn’t even an option at first. The experience bordered on the surreal.

That sense of the unknown defined the entire program. Once you crest 300 km/h, Bicocchi explains, the physics you’ve relied on your entire career quietly pack up and leave. Aerodynamics stop being a supporting character and take over the story. Stability becomes a negotiation. Every millimeter, every contour, every algorithm matters. At 400 km/h, you’re no longer driving so much as managing consequences.

And yet, the Veyron’s mission was never just speed. That was the easy headline. The real challenge—the one that kept engineers awake—was Bugatti’s insistence that this 1001-hp projectile behave like a car. Not a race car. A car. Something that a wealthy amateur could drive, confidently, without a racing license or a death wish.

That requirement fundamentally changed the testing brief. Bicocchi wasn’t just asked to find the limit; he was asked to civilize it. Throttle response, brake feel, stability at speeds where airplanes start having opinions—all of it had to be intuitive. Forgiving, even. The Veyron needed to be a hypercar that didn’t punish curiosity.

That responsibility weighed heavily. Bicocchi describes the program as a 360-degree strike force: engineers, tire suppliers, aerodynamicists, and drivers learning in real time because no one, anywhere, had done this before. There was no rulebook for a 400-km/h road car. They were writing it at speed.

Between test sessions scattered across the globe, Bicocchi immersed himself in Bugatti’s past. Not as nostalgia, but as grounding. Ettore Bugatti’s original vision wasn’t just about performance—it was about elegance, confidence, and mechanical honesty. The Veyron wasn’t a deviation from that philosophy; it was its most extreme expression.

One moment crystallizes the entire project. At Volkswagen’s Ehra-Lessien test track, Bicocchi was instructed to accelerate flat-out past 400 km/h and then stand on the brakes. It’s the kind of request that makes your internal monologue go quiet. Stress and exhilaration collide at that speed. When it worked—when the car remained stable, controllable, obedient—the relief was collective. That’s when the project stopped feeling like a job and started feeling like history.

Twenty-plus years later, the emotion hasn’t dulled. The Veyron still lands with the same force it did in the early 2000s because it isn’t anchored to a trend. Its design doesn’t scream a specific decade. Its achievement doesn’t rely on nostalgia. It simply exists, complete and unapologetic.

That’s the Veyron’s real legacy. Not just that it went faster than anything else, but that it did so without excuses. It didn’t require compromise from its driver. It didn’t ask you to be brave. It asked you to trust it—and then proved worthy of that trust at speeds no road car had ever seen.

As Bugatti continues to redefine the outer limits of the hypercar, the Veyron remains the reference point. The moment when impossible became production-ready. The car that forced the industry to admit that the ceiling was higher than anyone had dared to imagine.

Some cars age. Some become classics. The Veyron stands apart, timeless not because time has been kind to it, but because it never belonged to any era in the first place.

Source: Bugatti

NEW CARS

Bentley Batur Convertible #4

Bentley’s Mulliner division has never been shy about excess, but Batur Convertible #4 takes bespoke indulgence to a level that even Crewe’s most seasoned craftspeople must pause to admire. This is not merely another ultra-limited Bentley with a paint-to-sample exterior and a few special badges. It’s a deeply personal expression of what coachbuilding looks like when time, money, and taste are allowed to roam freely—and when the client knows exactly what she wants.

That client is Sonia Breslow, a collector whose garage already reads like a greatest-hits album of Bentley history: a Blower Continuation Series, a Speed Six Continuation Series, and the Bacalar that effectively rebooted Bentley’s modern coachbuilt era. Batur Convertible #4 doesn’t just join that lineup; it converses with it, carrying forward a visual and material language that’s uniquely hers.

From the outside, this Batur leans into elegance rather than shock value. The tri-tone exterior uses Breslow’s own commissioned colors, anchored by a hairline 6-mm gloss-silver stripe that accentuates the Batur’s defining feature—its seemingly endless hood. The upper body wears “Breslow Blue,” a shade so personal it extends beyond paint. Mulliner color-matched the convertible roof canvas to it, creating the first bespoke-colored roof of its kind. Drop the top, and the same hue reappears on the Airbridge beneath, turning a functional aero element into a design flourish.

Subtlety continues elsewhere. A Midnight Breslow Blue pinstripe traces the hood, wheel accents and mirror caps quietly echo the primary palette, and polished titanium exhaust finishers add a muted sparkle at the rear. Bright silver grilles keep things classic, reminding you this is still a Bentley—even if it’s one filtered through an intensely personal lens.

The real theater begins when you open the door. Bentley’s animated welcome lamps are already a party trick, but here they cross into signature art. Using more than 415,000 microscopic mirrors, the system projects Sonia Breslow’s handwritten name onto the ground. It’s not flashy in a Vegas way; it’s intimate, like a signed first edition waiting on your doorstep.

Inside, the cabin trades cool blues for warmth. Autumnal tans and caramel tones dominate, offset by restrained light-blue accents that pull the exterior Breslow Blue into the interior without overwhelming it. Contrast stitching runs across the tonneau, seats, headrests, and instrument panel, tying the space together with quiet consistency. Look down, and you’ll spot the outline of Mount Batur—namesake of the car—woven subtly into the deep-pile floor mats, a detail most owners would never notice but Mulliner insists on perfecting anyway.

The dashboard blends old and new in a way only Bentley seems able to pull off. Inspired by early Bentleys, a bright aluminum engine-spin finish spans the fascia, shimmering softly rather than shouting for attention. The Bentley Rotating Display—equal parts gimmick and genius—features bespoke-colored gauge faces and a satin-blue clock face that matches the overall theme. It’s the kind of detail that feels indulgent until you realize how cohesively it’s been executed.

Then there’s the metalwork. Batur Convertible #4 marks Bentley’s first use of three-dimensionally printed platinum. The top-dead-center marker on the steering wheel and each organ stop are crafted from the precious metal, adding literal weight to the term “bespoke.” It’s innovation hiding in plain sight, more jeweler’s atelier than automotive factory.

For all its handcrafted artistry, this Batur doesn’t forget to perform. Under that endless hood sits the most powerful version of Bentley’s iconic W12: a hand-assembled, twin-turbocharged 6.0-liter engine delivering 740 horsepower. In an era where downsizing and electrification loom large, the Batur Convertible feels like a last, defiant love letter to excess internal combustion. It’s not about lap times or Nürburgring bragging rights; it’s about effortless, continent-crushing grand touring, roof down, horizon ahead.

Breslow herself sums it up best. This isn’t a speculative asset or a concours queen waiting for its next auction appearance. It’s a forever car, designed down to the last stitch and pinstripe to reflect its owner’s passion for detail and individuality. In that sense, Batur Convertible #4 isn’t just a Bentley—it’s a collaboration, a rolling manifesto of what modern coachbuilding can be when the client is as committed as the craftsmen.

As it joins its Mulliner siblings, this Batur stands as a reminder that true luxury isn’t about shouting the loudest. Sometimes, it’s about a handwritten name in light, a roof dyed just right, and a W12 beating beneath a hood that seems to stretch on forever.

Source: Bentley

Restomod

The Shelby GT350TR Proves There’s Still Room for One More Great Mustang Restomod

Just when it seemed like the Mustang-based restomod boom had reached peak saturation—every fastback reborn, every stripe reimagined—along comes another build that reminds us why this corner of the car world refuses to slow down. Meet the Shelby GT350TR, a sharpened, modernized reinterpretation of the classic Mustang by Oklahoma-based Trick Rides. Yes, it follows a familiar formula. No, that doesn’t make it any less compelling.

At $339,000 to start, the GT350TR clearly isn’t trying to win over casual nostalgia buyers. This is a no-compromises restomod aimed squarely at people who want their classic Mustang to drive like a modern performance car—without losing the attitude that made the original special.

As with any serious restomod, the magic begins underneath. Trick Rides ditches the original underpinnings in favor of a modern Roadster Shop chassis, instantly resetting expectations for ride quality and handling. An independent front suspension with Fox shocks brings a level of composure the original car could only dream of, trading vintage float for modern control. It’s the kind of upgrade that quietly transforms the driving experience long before you start leaning on the throttle.

The chassis revisions don’t stop there. Stiffer front and rear stabilizer bars work alongside a four-link rear suspension and a stout 9-inch rear axle. Together, these upgrades dramatically recalibrate how the Mustang behaves when pushed, trimming away much of the body roll and cornering hesitation that defined the original car. In other words, this is a classic Mustang that finally feels comfortable attacking a winding road rather than merely surviving it.

Visually, the GT350TR walks a careful line between reverence and reinvention. Trick Rides keeps the familiar silhouette intact, crafting the body panels from steel and preserving the proportions that made this generation of Mustang iconic. There’s an undeniable Eleanor vibe here, but it’s more restrained—less Hollywood hero car, more grown-up muscle with taste.

Up front, the changes are more pronounced. A new grille, revised headlights, and a custom hood give the GT350TR a sharper, more purposeful face. Three-piece Forgeline wheels fill the arches just right, while side-exit exhaust pipes add a touch of race-car menace without tipping into parody. From most angles, it looks properly aggressive, though the rear end plays things a bit safe compared to the bolder front fascia. That subtlety may disappoint some, but others will appreciate the restraint.

Then there’s the powertrain, which is exactly as unapologetic as you’d hope. The headline act is a supercharged 5.0-liter Coyote V8 pumping out a reported 710 horsepower. It’s paired with a six-speed Tremec T-56 manual transmission, because anything else would feel like a missed opportunity. A custom exhaust system with Magnaflow mufflers ensures the soundtrack matches the numbers, delivering modern V-8 fury through a classic American megaphone.

For buyers who want brute force without the whine of a blower, Trick Rides offers an alternative: a naturally aspirated 7.0-liter V-8. It’s a different flavor of excess, trading forced induction drama for big-displacement swagger.

Performance upgrades would be meaningless without serious stopping power, and the GT350TR delivers there too. Baer brakes handle braking duties, with six-piston calipers up front and four-piston units at the rear, promising fade-resistant confidence to match the car’s newfound pace.

The Shelby GT350TR doesn’t pretend to reinvent the restomod formula. Instead, it refines it—modern chassis, modern power, classic looks, and just enough restraint to keep it from becoming a caricature. In a crowded field, that focus might be exactly what helps it stand out.

Source: Ford Authority

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