Road test: 2015 Bugatti Veyron 16.4 Grand Sport Vitesse

We wave farewell to the fastest production car in the world.

Despite its fearsome power (1,200hp) and speed, the Bugatti Veyron can comfortably be taken on long journeys. Courtesy Bugatti

The world’s fastest production car is dead, long live the world’s fastest production car. Bugatti’s epoch-making, genre-defining and record-obliterating hypercar is no more, the final example having already made its way to the Middle East. And while Bugatti’s engineers are busy hand-crafting prototype versions of its successor ­(rumoured to be called the Chiron), it’s perhaps timely to take one last drive in the car that changed everything.

I reckon I've driven 2 per cent of all Veyrons over the years, which works out at eight examples, and each time I get behind its chunky steering wheel, I have to remind myself that this is a dream for millions of people. Ten years after it stormed onto the front pages of The Daily Mail, the British newspaper that decried it for being socially unacceptable, the Veyron remains the car that most inquisitors ask me about.

“Have you ever driven a ­Veyron?”

“Yes, several.”

“Wow. What’s it like?”

And so on. But describing what it’s like to see, sit in and drive any Veyron is nigh on impossible if one is to do it justice. The shape itself is extremely colour-­sensitive, and either looks ungainly (some even say ugly) or magnificent depending on how it has been specified. But no matter your take on it, the fact remains that it’s probably the most recognisable automobile on the planet, despite its rarity.

Its interior, too, is widely viewed as a bit of a let down – too ordinary, too safe in its design. Yet it’s timeless, too, thankfully bereft of the digital tech that blights cabins throughout the industry, making them look dated after a few years.

As I take what may turn out to be my last Veyron experience on the poorly surfaced and tourist-­laden 17-Mile Drive near Pebble Beach in Monterey, California, I decide to forget about its staggering, towering performance, and instead concentrate on its everyday usability. Because I’ve written before about driving these things at speeds above 330kph, and, to be frank, there’s no way on earth I’m going to get this thing doing what it does best here.

Ordinarily I would be frustrated beyond words at this situation. The world’s fastest, most powerful production car surely deserves – begs, even – to be let off its leash at every opportunity. Well, not today. One of the things that has marked the Bug out since day one is its ease of use – it’s almost as surprising as its breakneck acceleration. Seriously, you don’t need to be an expert wheelsmith to enjoy this car, you just need to have your wits about you when getting on the power, because it warps space and time when those 1,200 horses start stampeding.

Cars have been able to travel as fast as a Veyron for decades, but they’ve been the preserve of endurance racing. In the 1960s, the Porsche 917 could hammer past the 330kph mark as if it was not there, but could you drive it to the shops? Could you take it on a cross-continent tour and drive it for hours on end without feeling like you wanted to die? Not a chance. The Veyron is, in this case, all things to all people.

There is at least some intimidation thrown into the mix, despite its ease of use. It sounds angry, with a deep-chested bellow that tells you in an instant this is no ordinary engine. It’s an 8.0L, 16-cylinder, quad-­turbo, 1,200hp masterpiece that allows flexibility beyond ­comprehension.

While some might decry it as nothing more than the Volkswagen Group’s vanity project, there’s no doubt that without VW’s money and vision, this car could not exist. In this form, at least.

Any car manufactured by a company in the VW Group needs to meet the same stringent reliability tests, meaning this is as dependable as a Golf GTI. And a decade after its ­arrival, still nobody has come close to matching its sheer breadth of abilities. I find that, as I meander along the hauntingly beautiful coast roads here, the Veyron doesn’t crash around when it hits broken tarmac. It doesn’t wrestle with its driver; it never once feels edgy. It’s as docile as a sleeping Labrador, until you prod it with a stick in the shape of your right foot.

At that point, in the blink of an eye, it turns into a savage predator that shocks with the intensity of its power. As a straight, empty stretch of road homes into view, I give it one last shot and floor it. Just for a second or two. It’s enough.

You can still buy a Veyron if you want, one with zero miles and a full manufacturer’s warranty – you just can’t buy it from ­Bugatti. The company is nearly ready to unveil the Veyron’s replacement, but don’t doubt the importance of this car. It really did change everything.

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