Bugatti Mistral review

Because you open the normal door with a normal Golf-ish door handle and step down into a ‘familiar’ Chiron cabin, at first it seems the Mistral is exactly what you’re expecting. But with one prod of the ‘ENGINE’ button dangling from the steering wheel, that presumption is blown away on a torrent of menacing noise.

Bugatti worked hard to make the Chiron a more emotional-sounding car than the bassy, breathy Veyron, and really turned up the attitude for the Super Sport. But it’s wound the volume knob up until it breaks off for the Mistral: the engine catches with a bang and settles into a rumble loud enough to set off nearby car alarms and make dogs bark.

In a world where we’re grudgingly getting used to hi-fi augmented, hybrid-assisted engine noise, to hear a car generate this rumbling avalanche from combustion alone is scary. In a good way.

The noise becomes a character along for the ride once you’re underway, letting the dual-clutch ‘box considerately juggle the gears. By splitting the cooling ducts and air intake the occupants are that much more intimate with what the turbos are up to. Below 3,800rpm, when the W16 runs on two turbos alone, you’re treated to a chorus of woofles, sighs and chirrups as they inhale and hiss through the blow-off valve, almost huffing with sarcastic derision if you’re dawdling. Above 3,800rpm… you’ve got other things on your mind. Like consciously blinking to stop your eyeballs drying out.

Is it a good convertible?

Exceptionally so. The Mistral buffets less at 150mph than a Porsche 911 Targa does at half that speed. There’s none of that resonant drumming that makes it feel like your eardrums are trying to burrow out of the side of your head.

What’s impressive is how this slipperiness has been achieved without gimmicks. Look at the top of the windscreen. There’s none of that ungainly Mercedes ‘air-cap’ nonsense, or even an oversized deflector between the seats. Bugatti design boss Frank Heyl insists the Mistral’s unflappable composure has come from a lot of time sweated in the wind tunnel.

That speaks to Bugatti’s attention to detail – that they went to all that bother for just 99 cars, although some owners will never even take theirs to double-digit, let alone triple-figure speeds. These behemoths leave some petrolheads cold, but you can’t argue with the engineering.

Speaking of, it’s also stiff. No telltale rear-view mirror shudder or windscreen floppiness here, as you’d hope for a car capable of four-and-a-half miles per minute. We’re used to that from super-speedsters with carbon tubs like McLaren… but when the engine alone weighs over 600kg, that’s still remarkable.

So it can cruise. It can pose. It can outrun fighter jets. But what’s it like as a sports car?

Superb, in a Bugatti way. Don’t arrive in a Mistral expecting daintiness. This isn’t a ballerina. But it’s also not a hippopotamus.

The Mistral preserves the Chiron’s granite-tough sense of integrity. Some hypercars feel fragile and highly strung. The Mistral feels unbreakably tough. And two decades after the Veyron introduced the world to the idea of a hypercar that was no more taxing to drive than an Audi TT, the Mistral is no less beguiling. The collision of the sheer force on offer and how easy it is to access is wild.

You’d expect this to be the ultimate straight-line hero, but the Mistral – like the Chiron – is bizarrely game for the corners. You can lean on the slick, well-weighted steering because the grip is mountainous, and call up the boost whenever the mood takes you because it’s got more traction than a tank to go with the pace of a projectile.

And yet, none of the unexpected agility has come at the expense of a crashy ride that endangers your precious magnesium wheels. Leave it in ‘EB’ mode and it’s not far off Bentley Continental GTC plushness. Once you’re clear of splitter-endangering traffic calming, twizzle the mode knob to autobahn mode for a lower stance and diamond-solid stability.