Driving the Stunning Pagani Utopia: Another Multimillion-Dollar Hypercar

Breathe In

Isn’t the true point of a supercar to take your breath away? The Pagani Utopia certainly does that. First shown in an odd creamed-white bone color, the photos simply didn’t do it any favors. Initial internet consensus was it looked a bit frumpy. Fast-forward to a cool fall day in Malibu, California, where these pictures were taken, and my jaw is still on the floor. The black with hints of brown and copper exposed carbon-fiber stuns our entire crew in the cloud-shrouded morning sunlight. The Utopia manages to look both conventional in its idealized supercar form, as well as from another galaxy. Alien. Gorgeous. I feel like jumping for joy and screaming. It’s a perfect 10, no caveats other than recommending against the off-white color.

Another angle to consider is what lies under the Utopia’s skin. The guts of the machine: suspension pieces, ceramic-coated pipes, structural elements, even the tub made from carbon-titanium HP62—what, your supercar doesn’t feature patented carbon weaves named after the founder’s initials? All of it just wows. Paganis, after all, are purchased as much as art objects as they are as vehicles. Pagani apocrypha tells the tale of a Russian banker who bought three cars from Pagani yet didn’t know how to drive. Literally no driver’s license or plans to get one. Why, then? To hang them on his wall. As you do. A true story? It was told to me by a Pagani employee inside the factory. Also, how cool are the doors?

Breathe Out

The wow factor continues inside the car. Every single piece is a feast for the eyes and the fingers. Bent carbon-fiber tubes serve as HVAC vents, the HVAC controls look like gauges, and those gauges seem pulled from an unobtanium stereophile-spec amplifier. And of course, there’s the gear selector. Like all Paganis, it’s a piece of industrial art as at home in a gallery as it is in this Italian exotic. Call it analog-plus. Yes, there’s a small screen located between the tachometer and the speedometer for stuff like the radio and phone calls, but it’s the least important part of the car.

I’ve driven a Zonda (Horatio Pagani’s personal Zonda F Roadster) and a handful of Huayras, including the Roadster BC and the track-only Huayra R. I’m struck today by how much more mature (for lack of a better term) the Utopia’s cockpit is compared to the boy racer (in comparison) Huayra. To bolster these feelings that developed over the course of the time I spent driving the Utopia, the dealership we returned it to (O’Gara Coach) happened to have a Huayra Pacchetto Tempesta on display and the door was unlocked. The Utopia’s interior is not only more upscale, it’s calmer, roomier, and just all-around more pleasant. The roomier architecture might just be the most significant; your shoulder is about 3 inches farther away from the passenger’s.

A Bigger Picture

Pagani itself is very much a family business, with Horatio still designing the cars after all these years. He was 10 years older when he designed the Huayra then when he launched the company with the Zonda, and the Utopia comes at least another decade down the road. Meaning Mr. Pagani has matured. More crucially, so have his loyal customers. This is where the Utopia fits into the Pagani puzzle.

The hypercar theatrics, the ability to dominate a cars and coffee event, all that pomposity and peacocking is still present in the Utopia. But so is something else. There’s a calm sophistication, a gentlemanly aspect to the thing that’s totally absent from the Zonda and Huayra. It’s the role Maserati used to fill back in its heyday, the been-there done-that, worldly yet discerning Italian exotic that made Ferrari and Lamborghini owners seem like desperate knobs. I’m not saying bring your ascot, but you can if you like.