Some things require patience. Good whisky. Perfectly aged cheese. And apparently, American hypercars. When SSC first teased us with the Tuatara concept back in 2011, George W. Bush had only recently vacated the White House, people still bought DVDs, and electric cars were something you'd find in a fairground, not a showroom. Now, approximately seven ice ages later, people are finally getting to drive them. And based on the early reports, the automotive world is in for something special. Was it worth the decade-and-a-half wait? In a word: absolutely. In two words: bloody hell. In three: take my mortgage. THE NUMBERS ARE SIMPLY OBSCENE Let's start with the engine, because that's what you want to hear about. Nestled behind your head sits a twin-turbocharged 5.9-liter flat-plane crank V8 that produces 1,350 horsepower on regular pump fuel. That's not a typo. One thousand, three hundred and fifty horses. From a V8 that doesn't even displace 6.0 liters. But wait – it gets better. Feed it E85 ethanol, and that number swells to a frankly terrifying 1,750 horsepower. That's more than a Formula 1 car. It's more than most commercial trucks. It's enough to hit 60 mph in about 2.5 seconds and reach a verified top speed of 282.9 mph. All of this fury is channeled through a seven-speed single-clutch gearbox and – here's the clincher – sent exclusively to the rear wheels. That's right, there are just two pieces of rubber separating you from becoming the world's most expensive firework display. It's madness of the highest order, and I absolutely love it. IT STILL LOOKS THE BUSINESS Despite being old enough that it could almost apply for its own driving license, the Tuatara's design hasn't aged a day. Former Pininfarina designer Jason Castriota (the genius behind the Ferrari P4/5 and, somewhat confusingly, the Ford Mustang Mach-E) crafted this slippery, aerospace-inspired shape that cuts through air like a hot knife through butter. Buyers can choose between the standard Tuatara – built for those top-speed runs – or the Striker version, which comes with enough wings and aero bits to generate 1,100 pounds of downforce at 160 mph. It's the track version, essentially, though calling any version of this car "standard" feels like calling Everest "a bit of a hill." According to CEO Jerod Shelby (no relation to that other famous American car guy), the Striker is what everyone's ordering these days. Why? Because it looks like it wants to eat other supercars for breakfast, that's why. And Shelby tells us they're preparing to attempt lap records at either COTA or Laguna Seca this year. I'm putting money on them succeeding. THE DRIVE IS OTHERWORLDLY The lucky few who've had a chance to test this beast report that even on public roads, this car is utterly, spine-tinglingly magnificent. The first time you properly prod the accelerator, the Tuatara reportedly responds with the kind of ferocity that makes you involuntarily say words your mother wouldn't approve of. The rear end wriggles just enough to remind you that there's a thermonuclear explosion happening behind you, but then it hooks up and catapults you forward at a pace that recalibrates your understanding of physics. The Bugatti Chiron? Feels positively lethargic in comparison. The Rimac Nevera? Clinical and sanitized next to this mechanical beast. \ The Tuatara's V8 sounds like it's trying to punch its way out of the engine bay, while the seven-speed automated manual bangs through gears in under 100 milliseconds. That's faster than you can blink. By the time drivers reach fourth gear on a short stretch of highway, they're well into the sort of speeds that would have licenses revoked in most civilized countries. And the car isn't even breathing hard. It's like taking a cheetah for a walk around your garden – you're experiencing maybe 10% of what it's truly capable of, and it's still faster than anything else in the neighborhood. The most surprising thing about the Tuatara, though? It's not awful to drive slowly. The hydraulic suspension soaks up bumps reasonably well, visibility is better than you'd expect, and while the seats aren't exactly La-Z-Boy recliners, they don't require chiropractic intervention afterward. For something with the power to rearrange continental plates, it's surprisingly well-mannered. It's a bit like discovering that Mike Tyson is also a skilled pianist. You're so focused on the raw power that the finesse catches you completely off guard. After just 15 minutes in the driver's seat, early testers report being utterly sold. The SSC Tuatara is everything a modern hypercar should be – outrageously powerful, impeccably engineered, and just civilized enough that you could conceivably use it without ending up in either hospital or prison. Was it worth the 15-year wait? Absolutely. Unlike most things that take that long to arrive (I'm looking at you, George R.R. Martin), the Tuatara doesn't disappoint. It's a thundering reminder that while electric hypercars might be the future, there's still nothing quite like the visceral thrill of a fire-breathing V8 with more power than sense. If you have the $1.9 million asking price, buy one immediately. I'll just be over here selling internal organs to try and raise the funds.
