Ask Horacio Pagani how his fledgling Zonda can compete in a world poised on the brink of a supercar glut, and he'll tell you: "It's better to be the head of a mouse rather than the tail of lion." It's a nice Italianate metaphor, especially for an Argentinean, but it's not strictly accurate. If the Zonda is a "mouse", then an F15 is a "plane". Plant your foot to the floor, and the Zonda's AMG-fettled Mercedes V12 makes a noise that sounds nothing whatsoever like a mouse squeak. The engine barks, roars, howls and then screams bloody murder. Any lion with even an ounce of self-preservation would run for his life.
No matter how you approach a bend, no matter what you do in the bend, the damn thing just goes round. Too fast in? Brake, turn, go. Slow in, full blast out? And away we go. Reverse camber 360-degree uphill switchback on broken pavement? This way sir.
I read somewhere that the Zonda is set-up for gentle oversteer on the limit, and I saw the ASR button by the gearshift, but I experienced none of the former and never triggered the latter. All I felt were enormous G-forces and sure-footed, Big Time Fun. A better driver than me could make the car dance. Given the irregular deployment of pre-dented crash barriers along the cliffside road, and Italian lorry drivers' predilection for the racing line, I'm not sure I would want to be in the car when the music started.The Zonda's balletic nature is down to weight, or lack thereof. Sr. Pagani made his fortune fabricating carbon fibre parts. He's applied this expertise to every part of his personal progeny - from the windshield wiper mounts to the seats to the tiny luggage compartments. Pagani's single-minded pursuit of weight loss has produced a car that's over a thousands pounds lighter than the similarly explosive Lamborghini Murcielago. The difference in feel is shocking. Where the Lambo serves constant (if welcome) reminders that the back end would quite happily change ends with the front, the Zonda just lets you get on with the business of speed.
If the Zonda's exterior does little to delight the aesthetic sensibilities of chronically over-moneyed collectors, the interior at least makes them comfortable. In a dramatic break with supercar tradition, the car has flawless ergonomics. The airbag-less steering wheel is perfectly shaped, sized and positioned. The custom-tailored seats are sufficiently comfortable for the long haul, yet supportive enough for the seriously sideways stuff. Though you sit low to the pavement, the Zonda's seating position provides plenty of front and side visibility. Rearwards, well, as the Italian driver remarked in The Gumball Rally, as he wrenched off the rear view mirror, "what is behind me is not important".
The Zonda's interior is not without its questionable quirks. The speedometer is nowhere near bold enough for instant assessment. The toggle switches are a needless affectation. While I hail Sr. Pagani as The King of Carbon Fibre, I've never liked the stripy look of the raw material. To my eyes, the world's most expensive automotive material looks, um, cheap. The dash-mounted ventilation periscopes aren't entirely convincing either. Saying that, it's wonderful beyond measure to drive a supercar that provides sufficient quantities of cool air. When I first saw the Zonda's glass roof glinting in the heat of Italian sun, I felt sure I would emerge from the car five pounds lighter. If anything, I felt fresher than when I strapped in.
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