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I typed this out, but its a freaking cool article. I will try to get some pics to add on.

EVO Magazine said:
This is it then, our shot in the Koenigsegg CCR. Having sat tight all day yesterday, staring meekly out of the window, we retreated to our hotel hoping for brighter skies the next morning. Unfortunately we're greeted with more of the same.

It's bitterly disappoint, for not only do we have unlimited access to the CCR, but we also have he use of Koenigsegg's test track, which has over a mile of decommissioned ex-military runway. While too short to get anywhere near the CCR's projected 250mph maximum, it's long enough to measure acceleration at seriously high speeds and perhaps challenge the McLaren F1's previously untouchable stats. Or at least it would be if only the rain would abate.

Sensing our frustration, Christian von Koenigsegg suggests that we accompany him in the CCR on the roads around Ängelholm. It's not every day you get the chance to share a car of this calibre with the man who created it (imagine hitching a ride with Enzo Ferrari back in the 1950s), besides which it's the perfect opportunity to be brought up to speed with the CCR's technical details.

There's something particularly appropriate about seeing the Koenigsegg rumble out of a hangar formerly used to house the Swedish Airforce's elite fighter squadron, for it too has a weapon-like sense of purpose and potency. It's for that reason the CCR, and all the future 'extreme specification' Koenigseggs, will wear the squadron's ghost emblem. It's a nice touch and a cool piece of supercar folklore-in-the-making.

This striking yellow car, complete with an interior upholstered in retina-assaulting Swedish national colours, is the new company demonstrator. It's also a development car, which explains why it's fitted with a prototype six-speed sequential gearbox supplied for evaluation by Italian transmission specialists Cima. It also has a stronger, sintered clutch in preparation for Jeremy Clarkson's test of the car in a few weeks' time, and a new steering rack with increased assistance.

As CK threads the CCR out of the compound and out onto the fast, open rural roads, it all feels remarkable civilized, despite the uncompromising transmission and clutch. Supercar set-up genius Loris Bicocchi has been working hard on the CCR in between his regular stints at Bugatti developing the Veyron ( he also developed the chassis on the Pagani Zonda), and his familiar lightness of tough is evident in the CCR's miraculous suppleness and compliance.

Like the CC8S, the CCR is an odd mix of sophisticated, cultured damping and brutal, rough-edged intensity. Much of this is tanks to the engine, which snorts and bristles and gnashes through the bulkhead with animal aggression. My memories of the CC8S aren't exactly of a big softy, but there's a sharper edge to the CCR, an immediacy and vehemence that distinguishes it from not only the CC8 but any other supercar.

The road, though drying in the strong wind, is still damn in patches. In a 911 turbo, Gallardo or Muriélago you probably wouldn't flinch at using full throttle in the lower gears, but the CCR is a much, much fiercer creature, more T Rex than tiger. That much is clear from CK's focused expression, steely eyes scanning the road for the driest stretch, right floor minutely compression the throttle in the same way a sniper takes up the slack in a hair-trigger.

We both spot the opportunity simultaneously, and in the same split-second that Christian cracks opens he throttle my inner self curls into a tight ball and hides. Hard as a hammer, the CCR erupts into life, that immense powerplant pounding away like a road drill, the scream of the twin-screw Lysholm supercharger boring into my skull.

Not to put too find a point on it, when unleashed on the open road, no matter how briefly or judiciously, the CCR's acceleration is so brutal it spontaneously soils underwear. Well into his stride by now, Mr. Koenigsegg pulls back on the lengthy gearlever to grab second and then third gear. After more than a day of doing nothing, such explosive action is all a bit much, and while my face wears a mildly glazed expression of well-practiced ambiguity, my insides scream and squirm. This car, I conclude, is a heart attack on wheels.

The remainder of the journey to the test track is split between explosions of short but borderline psychedelic acceleration and merciful lulls. During these quiet moments, Christian takes the opportunity to detail the CCR's extensive list of upgrades and enhancements, his soft measured Scandinavian tones a soothing balm after the V8's caustic war-cry.

'People can say "It's just a Ford engine",' he remarks without a hint of angst, 'but I don't see any 806bhp, full homologated engines in the Ford sales catalogue.

'We worked it out that the engine is 80 percent Koenigsegg-engineered. The block is from Ford Racing, yes, but pretty much everything else is Koenigsegg: the oil-spray lubrication of the pistons, engineering the engine as a stressed member of the chassis, the exhaust, flywheel, clutch, supercharger, pistons, fuel system, con-rods, and crankshaft. They are all to our designs. In a way it could almost have been our own block by now, but it suits us fine as it is. Maybe from an image point of view it could be worth doing our own, but not from a technical one.

'Compared to the CC8S, the CCR's chassis is slightly reinforced, through extra bracing and a different lay-up of the tub. It also has different brakes, tyres, wheels, chock absorbers, anti-roll bars, engine internals, supercharging system, body changes, interior changes. I liken the differences between the two cars to comparing the BMW 330 to a BMW M3. That's the kind of difference between the CC8S and the CCR.'
 

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EVO Magazine said:
I'd by lying if I said I'm not clad when we stop and I can open the door, clamber out and take a few deep breaths. Best not take too long to compose myself, for time is against us. If we're to come away from Sweden with any worthwhile driving impressions and, more pressingly, hard performance data, we've got to grasp the nettle and go for it.

The test track is streaming with rainwater as we splash tentatively away for an exploration run. The sintered clutch is tricky, through not Carrera GT jerky, but as CK suggested, the prototype gearbox is heavy, long of throw, and imprecise of engagement. I'm comforted by the multi-stage traction control, but not sufficiently trusting to plant my foot F1-style. Pressing on the throttle like it's connected to an unexploded bomb, I short-shift to fourth and feed the power in gingerly in an effort to gauge the 4.7-litre V8's power delivery.

Robbed of the trees and road furniture that exaggerate even a super's speed rush, runways tend to suck the drama out of elevated velocities. But as the CCR's engine piles on revs and gets on top of fourth gear, that familiar vertiginous sensation returns.

In the time it takes me to power to the far engine of the runway and back to where Christian Koenigsegg, PR manager Lotta de Salvatore and evo's long-suffering snapper, Andy Morgan, are waiting, it strikes me that my long-held belief that driving fast in a straight-line is a piece of cake is about to be exposed as utter cobblers.

We take shelter in one of the airbase's sinister bomb-proof concrete jet fighter pens. Again the surroundings seem appropriate given our mission, but I'm no gung-ho fighter jock, and it's with a growing sense of trepidation that I attach the V-Box test equipment to the Koenigsegg in preparation for our high-speed runs. Where's Jethro 'I've-done-204.8mph-on-the-autobahn-don't-you-know' Bovingdon when you need him?

By the time I nose the CCR out onto the runway, Andy alongside, the rain has eased but there's still plenty of water on the concrete surface. We run the Koenigsegg up and down, building speed with each run, working some temperature into the engine and transmission fluids and trying to clear as much water as we can. We succeed to a degree, but it's clear we aren't in a position to get any meaningful standing-start times. All we can hope is that we can get some good incremental split times from, say, 80mph to 100mph or 150-170mph; something that we can at least compare with the Mclaren SLR we tested in similar conditions back in the UK.

We try a few starts with the traction control on, but the V8's a tricky motor to launch cleanly and it proves all too easy to either bog down or explode into life and abruptly trigger the ASR. There's only on thing for it: switch the ASR off and try to balance the wheelspin with my right foot.

The first few organic starts are better, but horribly nerve-wracking. First gear is a blur of wheelspin, as you'd expect, and I can feel my tongue poking out with concentration as I try to modulate the throttle enough to keep off the rev-limiter. Give the sequential lever a hard pull back into second, get smoothly back on the throttle and try to anticipate the explosive swell of power as the superchargers get to work. It seems crazy to ease out of the throttle in second gear to make the car go faster, but it's the only way to contain the V8's rampant output.

Still unable to get full throttle, I pull back again into third gear. Another brief pause, then crazily swelling acceleration followed by another lurid burse of wheelspin. It's enough to warrant nearly half a turn of opposite lock to keep us tracking true. Up into fourth now and I can apply full throttle for longer, but yet again as the engine really comes on song the rear tyres lose the fight between the mammoth V8 and wet tarmac, this time at a V-Box-indicated 138mph. More sweaty stabs of counter steer then back on the power, eyes flickering between the digital V-Box display and the engine of the runway.

Though I'd hesitate to call it fun, there's a sickening, self-destructive pleasure in subjecting yourself to such alien force. What's truly, mesmerizingly, gob-smackingly impressive about the CCR is it simply never runs out of acceleration, piling on speed from 100mph as through you've just dropped the clutch from a standstill. And, like drugs or alcohol, once you're under the influence you just can't get enough.

Braking is the Koenigsegg's equivalent of a cold turkey, but the huge AP brakes are more than able to absorb the speed. We manage a number of runs without incident, but on our last run we stray off our drying line, and as we come off the power and onto the brakes at an indicated 168mph we not only hit some deeper water, but an area of runway that is painted with huge markings, a hangover from its military days. The resulting reduction in adhesion triggers a heart-pounding two-and-a-half-mile tank-slapper that has Andy and I staring wild-eyed and deathly silent out of first my side window, then his, then mind again before I control it and bring the CCR to a halt.

That should be enough to frighten us back into the bunker for good, but after a break to get some more photography done, we decide to head back out onto the runway, not to try and go quicker but to get some in-car video footage for the evo website. Except we don't quite get that far. Powering up the runway we hit another patch of water and paint, this time in the outer reaches of third gear. Inevitably the tail snaps sideways, and though I make an attempt to catch it, it's immediately clear that both Andy and I are passengers, spinning up the runway at what must be close to 130mph in £400,000-worth of exquisite supercar. And it's all, my fault.

It's a sickening moment as the revs flare then die as I instinctively dip the clutch and stand on the brakes. The unique, unmistakable sound of locked wheels scrubbing and screeching fills the cockpit, or rather competes with the alternative sound of me hollering the same four-letter word and poor Andy uttering a primeval and increasingly desperate grunt. It's when we leave the runway and hit the grass that we get really scared. With near -zero friction the CCR feels like it's accelerating again, and we complete another two full spins before coming to a rest at least 300 metres from where I first lost control.

Retracing our trajectory through the swathe of flattened grass it's clear how lucky we've been. Apart from losing the front splitter and gaining some localized ruching in the seat upholstery, the CCR is miraculously unscathed. When we drive past the huge, immovable concrete base of an old landing light hidden in the grass less than a metre to the left of our raggedly mown path, our bloody runs cold…. It's a mark of the man that having watched me drive the scuffed and sod-strewn CCR back into the workshop, Christian von Koenigsegg doesn't go all Viking on me. God knows I'd understand if he did.

Perhaps most tellingly, despite the catalogue of Meaden-induced dramas, my lasing impression of the CCR remains its raw, relentless straight-line barbarism. NO amount of rain could extinguish the fire burning deep in the block of that fearsome V8. When it finally set its tyres on Nardo's bone-dry nine-mile bowl, and Loris Bicocchi can wring out all 806bhp with abandon, it surely achieve its destiny and become the first production car in the world to hit 250mph.
anyway.

cliffs. EVO magazine tests the new koenigsegg CCR, and almost wrecks it

:giggle:
 

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>_< i was just reading through Koenigsegg's official site, and they referred to the CCR as "the extreme version of the CC"

WT* "THE EXTREME VERSION"!?? I can safely say id probably piss myself in the regular STOCK CC8S, im scared to imagine what humiliation id be put through getting out of the CCR :giggle:
 
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