No Tags, No Nap, No Problem
The high-voltage saga of collecting a McLaren Artura and surviving southern thunderstorms.
It all started with a text: “Wanna come with me to pick up the Artura?” And just like that, I was committed to a new adventure—helping a friend collect his freshly minted 2024 McLaren Artura. You don’t say no to that. You rearrange your schedule, grab your best travel coffee mug, and pack light. It's not every day your friend buys a spaceship.
We both flew into Charlotte, and thanks to the travel gods, ended up sharing the same connection through Atlanta. This was already shaping up to be a good day. When we got to the dealership, the car—Sarthe Grey exterior with turquoise piping on a dark blue and black interior, just the right amount of wild—was gleaming out front like it knew it was about to change our lives. But of course, this wouldn’t be a McLaren story without a few twists.
First Impressions... and the First Oops
After signing what I assume were many, many forms in blood, my friend was handed the keys, and we were off. But not before we lingered around the showroom to gawk at the rest of McLaren’s insanity on wheels—Elvas, 750s, GTs... and interiors so flamboyant Liberace might've blushed.
We had a tight schedule: leave by 4:00 p.m. to make an 8:00 p.m. dinner at our mountain lodge. We pulled out of Charlotte at 4:15 p.m.—mistake number one. Charlotte traffic laughed at our plans and slapped 30 extra minutes on the clock. After navigating rush hour and syncing the phone to Apple CarPlay (yes, it has that now!), we made our escape. Until we didn’t.
Dinner Panic and the Sandwich Savior
By 7:00 p.m., it became clear we wouldn’t make dinner. No worries—we called the lodge, and Rosa at the front desk instantly became our hero. She read us a menu like it was bedtime poetry: sandwich, side salad, dessert, all ready upon arrival. Honestly, Rosa deserves a McLaren.
But first, we needed fuel—for the car. Pulling into a gas station with an Artura is like parking a UFO next to a cornfield. Everyone had a question. “How fast is it?” “Where’s it made?” “What’s it cost, like a million?” No, but we appreciated the flattery. We talked. We smiled. We took 20 minutes to pump gas. You learn quickly that owning a McLaren means being your own PR team.
Then came the missing license plate.
Was it ever on? Did it fly off? Were we—two older guys with more torque than common sense—driving tagless across state lines? Yes, yes we were. We slapped a branded dealership plate on the back to look less suspicious and rolled on, praying no one asked for paperwork - that was in the center console just in case.
Rain, Fog, and the Glorious High Beams of Doom
About five miles from the lodge, the heavens opened. Rain like buckets. Fog like milk. Lane markings that had apparently vanished into legend. The Artura, for all its advanced tech, still struggles with “monsoon in the dark.” The windshield was tinted (not my choice), and between high beams flickering on/off like a rave and no road reflectors, we were in a scene straight out of Fast & Frightened.
My friend was yelling, “Just stop!” I was yelling, “We’re in the road!” No one died. We pulled in around 9:20 p.m., where Rosa and Blu (the bartender) saved the night with sandwiches, warm cookies, and a splash of Baileys in the coffee. That’s hospitality... and therapy. Thank you Snowbird Mountain Lodge.
First Full Drive: Morning Glory
The next morning, post-eggs and post-adrenaline recovery, we took the Artura out for its real debut: a spirited mountain drive. My friend started the day, and after lunch I took the reins.
Let me say this: if the 600LT is a wild child, the Artura is the class valedictorian who moonlights as a nightclub DJ. Refined when it needs to be, bonkers when you ask.
Driving Impressions
Steering: McLaren’s hydraulic steering is still the best in the business. Porsche is close, but McLaren wins. The weight, the feel, the chatter—it’s a Go-Kart Ph.D.
Brakes: Carbon ceramics, race-spec, and unassisted. The first time you hit them, it’s like pushing on concrete. But once your brain recalibrates, they’re incredible.
Throttle: Smooth, progressive, and deceptively fast. Thanks to the e-motor torque fill, the acceleration is seamless and strong—like being tugged by a very polite rocket.
Gearbox: The 8-speed dual clutch is crisp and intuitive. At highway speeds, 8th gear means you’re barely above idle at 80 mph. McLaren’s rocker-style paddles let you upshift with either hand—because who doesn’t want options mid-apex?
Interior: Quietest McLaren I’ve experienced. You can actually talk. Visibility is great, the digital cluster moves with the wheel (take that, Ferrari), and the cabin layout is functional with just enough drama.
Suspension: Flat, poised, composed. Whether carving the Cherohala or crawling through a pothole-ridden backroad, the ride was never harsh. It just works.
Final Thoughts: The Smile Machine
Driving this car was a reminder that automotive joy isn’t just about numbers. Sure, 690 hp and 531 lb-ft help, but the Artura’s real magic is in how it combines savage performance with surprising composure. It’s the kind of car that turns two middle-aged men into giggling schoolkids, that makes strangers ask if they can sit in it, that makes you forget about recording video because you’re too busy living in the moment.
And isn’t that what it’s all about?
Final Summary
From a dealership delivery full of surprises (and missing tags), to spirited drives through rain and sun, the McLaren Artura proved it’s not just a technological marvel—it’s an emotional experience. Whether you’re collecting smiles at a gas station or carving through switchbacks in the Smokies, this is a car that keeps giving.
Would I buy one? Let’s just say my 600LT is looking a little nervous.
Questions?
Have questions about the McLaren Artura—or just curious what it’s like to drive one through a thunderstorm in North Carolina? Shoot me a message. I’ll be happy to share more, rain or shine.