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I’m thinking as fast as I can, but it’s just not fast enough. Out here, 1,800m up in the arid Nevada desert on a dead-straight road, everything’s happening very quickly and I’m struggling to understand what’s going on. I’ve just slotted the Hennessey Venom GT into fifth gear at around 290km/h, pushed the throttle to the floor and the small, Alcantara-clad steering wheel is now wildly thrashing from side to side in my sweating fists.
I keep my foot down, hoping the car will straighten itself out, but a split-second later the monstrous 6.2-litre twin-turboed motor unleashes another huge, whistling wrecking ball of power.
As the speedo needle flashes past 320km/h, I realise something truly unbelievable is happening: the little yellow car, still accelerating faster than a bullet, is producing so much torque that both rear wheels have broken traction and started to spin. What the…?
Easing back on the throttle, the turbo wastegates burst open and the Venom GT instantly regains its composure, like a bulldog that has just bitten your arm off then fallen asleep. Unlike me. I can’t quite believe what just happened. I’ve driven pretty much every supercar on sale over the past 25 years, but not one of them has accelerated anything like the Venom. Not the Bugatti Veyron. Not even the Shelby Supercars Ultimate Aero, which I stepped out of just a few minutes before