Building a Lego Technic Bugatti Chiron: part four

Typical. Just as we approach the end of our 3,599-piece Lego Chiron build, we get one-upped. And quite comprehensively, at that.

Seriously, if you haven’t seen Lego and Bugatti’s life-size, almost-entirely Lego Chiron model by now, then go ahead and click on these words. Because it’s an incredible thing, and surely worth a few minutes of your time. Makes ours look a bit…rubbish, doesn’t it? Maybe 3,600-odd pieces isn’t that many after all…

Anyway. You join us as we start on the interior, which has been replicated faithfully in beige-coloured blocks. The seats come first, and they’re a challenge enough by themselves. We didn’t tally up how many bits goes into each one, but it’s lots. Building them is more complicated than it strictly needs to be – occupying what feels like tens of pages in volume two of the instruction tome.

The dashboard and instrument binnacle are easy enough to fathom. By this point in the build I’m brimming with confidence. I haven’t had to dismantle then re-build anything (yet) – so I get a bit bolshie and consider converting the Chiron to right-hand drive to impress my colleagues. It’s possible, and shouldn’t be too tricky to accomplish. But I see sense and instead plough on with some bodywork.

First come the front wings, then the rear haunches and light-bar. The doors – weirdly flimsy, lightweight items – come next. It’s at this point I realise I’m missing a little red piece. Mentally blaming Ollie Kew, I identify what I deem to be a ‘non-essential’ instruction and simply skip it, putting me back on target without compromising the integrity of the model.

Building up the bodywork takes time. At least the pieces are big, so it’s not as fiddly as assembling the engine or gearbox was, but it’s still an undertaking. And as these are the bits you see, they have to be perfect. The bracing you construct under the panels mean the Chiron’s outer skin is strong enough – you can basically kick it across the floor without it breaking into millions of pieces. This is a good thing.

Seeing the end in sight, we add the A-Pillars and those curvy chrome bits et voila. We’re done. Only we’re not, really. As I’m going to attach the wheels, I confront the brake issue. Ollie didn’t do them, and while they’re easily added without having to disassemble any of the model, I’m convinced we don’t have enough bits left. So I omit the brakes and attach the wheels anyway. Don’t tell anyone.

The key to raise and lower the wing is a simple thing that works a complex mechanism. A mechanism it turns out I’ve built incorrectly, because as I give it its maiden twist, basically nothing happens.

Frazzled and frustrated, I’m forced to back track SEVERAL HUNDRED PAGES and disassemble the rear-end of the car. Luckily you don’t have to go too deep, and the wing/mechanism comes out in one lump. I diagnose the issue as… having attached the wing to the uprights the wrong-way around. It’s a quicker fix than I’d feared.

And now we’re REALLY done. Except for the stickers, which I’ve left for the art department to do. And the brakes, which I’m not telling anyone about because they’ll think I’ve lost the bits.

Conclusion? Tricky, but ultimately bloody satisfying and worth as much time as you want to devote to it. Despite the expense. Bring on the next one… 5,000 piece Divo, yeah?