Aston Martin One-77 Review
A vision of the ultimate Aston Martin road car. Or, at the very least, it was when the One-77 was first announced in 2009. Dr Ulrich Bez, then-CEO of Aston Martin, stunned the automotive world when he announced that the company would build a million-pound limited-edition supercar. This was Aston Martin standing up to Bugatti and Pagani and saying, "We'll have a slice of your best-of-the-best action, thanks very much chaps."
While the One-77 had all of the typical Aston cues (widemouth grille, sweptback headlights, a prolonged bonnet, and cab-back stance with a pert tail), it wasn't just a powered-up, flared-out Vanquish spin-off covered in papier-mache. The car is built around a race-spec carbon-fibre monocoque with exquisite carbon subframes that support the front-mid-mounted engine and in-board suspension.
This completely uncompromised design was then clad in all-new aluminum panels. Lights, wheels, doors, and glass were all custom-made for this limited-edition run of 77 vehicles. The deposit alone required to secure a build slot – assuming you were at the very top of Aston Martin's preferred client list – was a hefty £200,000. That left a nice, round £1,000,000 to pay when the package arrived.
Aston Martin's most expensive car was also its fastest.
The One-77's main attraction is hidden beneath the front-hinged bonnet: its fantastic engine. It could only be a normally aspirated V12 for a flagship Aston Martin. Cosworth tweaked the company's standard 6.0-litre unit, replacing the standard cylinder liners with a nanoscopic low-friction coating, increasing capacity to a mighty 7.3 litres while reducing actual weight by 15% to 260kg thanks to lighter internals. This ode to internal combustion was then buried 100mm lower in the car than Aston's standard V12s, where it couldn't escape or interfere with handling.
Of course, more space to suck/squeeze/bang/blow and racier parts doing all of the above meant more power. The One-77 was the world's most powerful naturally aspirated car at the time, with 750bhp and 553lb ft. While cars like the Ferrari F12 and various one-off Zondas quickly caught up, the One-77 has remained Aston's fastest road car, with a claimed top speed of 220mph and a 0-62mph time of 3.7 seconds.
The One-77, unlike today's rarefied exotica, lacked a plethora of driving modes. Aside from a Sport mode for the gearbox, there's nothing to tweak or change: no multi-stage traction control here. Although there is active aero, the pop-up rear spoiler does not appear to be the type of aerofoil that could keep this car pinned to a tunnel ceiling.
The One-77 was both cutting-edge and charmingly old-school at the same time. While it was overshadowed by modern Bugattis that went faster in a straight line – and hampered by its antiquated gearbox – this car deserves to be remembered as one of the most unique British supercars of all time.
"This is the ultimate Aston Martin." The Valkyrie will be faster, but the One-77 is truly unique."
If you're a true British front-engined supercar enthusiast, you'll be well aware of the saga of the Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren, and how Gordon Murray fought and lost a personal battle against Merc's boardroom culture to keep the all-carbon supercar as light and pure as possible.
It was supercharged, laden with luxuries and equipment, and marketed as a hypercar fused with a long-legged GT that never quite hit the mark and landed somewhere in the middle.
The One-77 exemplifies what could have been. This is what the SLR would have looked like if Murray had been able to realize his naturally aspirated, lightweight dream. The One-77 exudes a joyous sense of barely contained fury, as if its engine is bloody apoplectic about being restrained inside a stunning bodyshell and would like to shout itself free if given half a chance.
Aston Martin had the audacity to dress an edgy, aggressive, no-holds-barred thoroughbred in a dignified lounge suit. Perhaps this is why it isn't regarded as one of the most iconic hypercars of the early twenty-first century. It ought to be. Except for the gearbox. The transmission on the One-77 isn't just an Achilles' heel; it's a war crime.
On the other hand, this car represents a period before downforce, hybrid drivetrains, and technological mode-overload began to define the world's fastest road cars. So perhaps it's fitting that this incredible engine must battle such a ferocious gearbox before unleashing its power on the world. This flaw, like the shrapnel scars on Westminster Abbey from WWII, defines its place in history.
Perhaps, in the future, there will be a manual conversion for the One-77, as there is now for the original Vanquish, which is also plagued by jerky gearbox purgatory. The One-77 will be remembered as one of Aston Martin's finest hours: a British Zonda, fierce and slightly absurd. It's just missing a proper transmission to be considered one of the true all-time greats of the analogue supercar realm.