2008 9ff GT9

It should have been bar talk from the lush wearing the beer-stained shirt, talking to imaginary friends. But this is 9ff boss Jan Fatthauer, standing in front of the GT9, which could and should be the fastest production car in the world before these words dry on the page.

"Last night we hit 386 kph on the autobahn," he says. "Tonight, if it's dry, we'll go for 400. Want to come?"

Truthfully, I hesitate. A few mental sums reveal that Fatthauer pounded the left lane at 239 mph in the dark and is aiming to break that figure with me on board. It's wet outside and part of me is glad.

Because just a few minutes after being posted through the roll cage into the hot seat of the GT9, its racing clutch fires me down the road in a stabbing, jumping judder before my internal organs punch through the racing seat and never catch up. Healthy respect for life and a mild intimidation keep me within sane limits, but even that's relative.

The Driftbox pressed to the screen scrolls around like an out-of-control Telethon counter as I pick holes in autobahn traffic and the big-band clash of a 987-hp, four-liter twin-turbo screaming to a 8000-rpm redline, and wastegates that belong on flood defenses do their best to draw blood from my ears. I can only breathe during gear changes (via a meaty, manual six-speed gearbox) then, with a nudge on the throttle, oxygen is again blown from my body as the car leaps down the road. Firm instructions not to drop below 3000 rpm (to keep the engine running through every change) bring fresh waves of wheel spin.

There's no traction control-not yet, anyway. There will be-and it will save lives. Pushed hard, this car will spin those fat rears in fifth gear, possibly sixth. One sneeze and you'll land in tomorrow, dead. 'Violent acceleration' is an overused term, but not even my kidneys taking time to catch up can describe the feeling of 711 lb-ft of torque kicking in. Only the numbers do it justice-a 2,923-pound car that hits 60 mph in less than 2.5 seconds and outpaces a Bugatti Veyron to 300 kph (186.4mph), hitting that landmark number in just 17.6 seconds and 2,854 feet on a cold day. And it doesn't slow down, it just tugs toward the horizon like the apocalypse is nipping at its heels. A swift nudge on the tactile ceramic composite brakes sheds speed like a leper sheds skin, then it's on to the next short gap, the next eye-burning blast.

It was always going to be brutal in a straight line. The spec sheet reads 987 hp because Fatthauer "hates these 1001-hp claims" and he made his name creating 910-hp 911 Cabriolets and the record-setting Vf400 hard-top that could bend time, space and laws in a heartbeat.

The GT9 is 10 years of solid thinking, three years of build time and 1,000,000 of Fatthauer's own money, plus countless man-hours. To dismiss it as a straight-line missile would be to miss the point; Jan won't even sell one of the 20 he'll build if he feels horsepower and Veyron-killing are all the customer cares about.

"I had gone as far as I could with the 911. Beyond 300 kph, I was fighting against lift," he says. "It was time for a new car and this shape evolved in my mind for a long time. I also wanted to take the company to the next level and create an antithesis to the Veyron, which is too perfect, too easy. I wanted a car my customers could use on a Sunday afternoon and one which would give them a little fight, a little fun."