It’s difficult to imagine it happening now, but cars have in the past seriously triggered politicians. Australia’s predilection for big, bluff muscle sedans prompted the so-called “supercar scare” in the early ’70s, when various state ministers of transport united in calling for a nationwide ban on what one called “bullets on wheels.” The carmakers backed down.
Fast forward 20 years and the UK’s House of Commons found itself debating the Lotus Carlton, in very many ways the successor to those Antipodean bruisers. An outrageous reimagining of a competent but far from stellar Opel/Vauxhall sedan (it was badged the latter in the UK), the Daily Mail decided the nation’s moral well-being was imperiled by its very existence.
The Association of Chief Police Officers, meanwhile, had more tangible reasons for wanting the thing banned: It was popular with ram raiders—another ’90s concept—and the force’s own high-speed pursuit vehicles simply couldn’t keep up.
But times change, and with them our moral codes. So, too, do the power outputs of cars. The 1991 Lotus Carlton produced 377 bhp, a figure that was on a par with its Aussie forebears, give or take, and sufficient to place it firmly in the contemporary supercar league. In 2025, Lotus will sell you a four-door sedan with more than double that amount, while its halo hypercar, the Evija, is good for in excess of 2,000 bhp.
Volvo’s EX30 is sold as an urban EV, but the Twin Motor Plus AWD model can reach 60 mph in 3.5 seconds.
Photograph: Volvo
And Lotus is far from alone. Tesla’s Model S Plaid dips just below the two seconds to 62 mph (100km/h) mark. BMW’s tech that underpins its latest Neue Klasse cars (the star of which is a central super processor dubbed the “heart of joy”) could see this next generation of fully electric M cars deliver as much as 1,340 bhp. That’s a megawatt, by the way.
Mercedes, not to be outdone, recently unveiled the AMG GT XX concept, the production version of which arrives in showrooms a year from now. It also produces up to one megawatt of power and, says Mercedes, can accelerate to 124 mph (200km/h) in five seconds.
To which WIRED can only reply, who in their right mind wants to go that fast? Having driven the Evija, Pininfarina Battista, and the excellent Rimac Nevera—all of which can accelerate with the velocity of a Formula One car—here’s the key thing you need to know: It’s not actually that much fun going that quickly.
Sure, do it once, assuming you’re on a track or runway with a straight that’s long enough, just to experience it. Stick the footage on Instagram or YouTube, if you must. But once will be enough. It turns out that the sensation of having your internal organs rearranged isn’t all that pleasant.
The electric Volvo EX30 hits 60 mph a full second faster than the Porsche 911 T.
Photograph: Porsche
It hasn’t stopped an EV horsepower arms race, though. Buyers of electric cars came to them for their efficiency, software definition, and zero emissions at the tailpipe. Their makers, ever wise to a marketing opportunity, saw the potential in image-building high performance. Just last month BYD crowed about how its U9 hypercar had become the world’s fastest EV, hitting 293 mph, tantalizingly close to the highest speed ever recorded for a production car, held by the Bugatti Chiron Super Sport 300+, which hit 304 mph. No doubt BYD will be gunning for this title too.
Obviously not every EV is capable of warping to 62 mph in two seconds or less, but when cars such as the BMW iX and Polestar 3 can be had with dual motors and well north of 600 bhp, you’ve got to wonder. These aren’t supercars, nor are they meant to be. They’re quasi-SUV all-rounders, state-of-the-automotive-art circa 2025, with world-class interiors and connectivity.
They’ll also do 300 miles or more on a single charge. But that means a big battery, which in turn ladles on the weight. The BMW and Polestar are both nudging 2,700 kg, enough to compromise their handling ability regardless of the chassis wizardry they employ. They’re both more fun to punt down a back road than you’d expect, but imagine how much more fun they’d be if they weighed 1,000 kg less. Far better to settle back and enjoy their lounge-like ambience.
Amazingly, and somewhat worryingly, urban EVs are nudging into this territory. Volvo, a brand built on driving safety, has the EX30 Twin Motor Plus AWD. Now, the EX30 is marketed as an urban EV aimed “at a younger demographic” so they can “make it their first Volvo,” but the Twin Motor Plus AWD can rocket from standstill to 60 mph just shy of 3.5 seconds. That’s a full second faster than the Porsche 911 T and almost on par with the new Ferrari Amalfi. The entry level EX30 trim model does it in just over five and a half seconds. Either, it could easily be argued, is too much for younger, less experienced drivers.
The standard Hyundai Ioniq 5 AWD has managed 0–60 mph in 4.5 seconds, while its sister brand Kia’s standard EV6 AWD is good for about the same. Toyota’s 2026 C-HR Electric will sport a manufacturer estimated 0–60 mph time of “around 5 seconds,” thanks to its 338 horsepower.
But when it comes to performance, straight-line speed is only one part of the equation, and getting a heavy vehicle to rotate properly into and out of corners isn’t easy to do. The laws of physics will always prevail, even if an EV’s layout (the batteries are often located under the floor) permits a helpful reduction in the center of gravity. Let’s all remember the US consumer advocacy nonprofit group Center for Auto Safety’s conclusion that compares the Cybertruck’s potential to harm pedestrians to “a guided missile” because of its Autopilot features, prodigious speed, and weight.
When urban EVs have acceleration to match the new Ferrari Amalfi, perhaps it’s time for a rethink.
Photograph: Ferrari
Mass is still the enemy here, and EVs typically have lots of it. Factor in bigger brakes and wheels, and the result is an increase in unsprung mass. That puts the springs and dampers under more pressure, which results in an increased amount of energy that needs to be managed, and unwanted oscillations when a car hits a pothole, for example.
A car also wants to pivot around what’s known as the center of yaw. If you can locate as much mass as possible close to that point, then the car will rotate in a more agile way. (That’s why the Evija’s 93-kWh battery pack sits in the middle of the car, which helps imbue it with more traditionally agile Lotus handling. It’s still heavy, though.) As clever as it all is, it still feels like you’re chasing your tail.
Jaguar is currently finessing its controversial new four-door electric super coupe. It will be powered by a new tri-motor setup and a substantial battery, with a power output hovering close to 1,000 bhp. That’s arguably brand-appropriate, but still excessive.
WIRED has sampled the new all-electric Range Rover, a car on which the brief was to stick as close as possible to the ICE car’s formidable capabilities: an imperious character, with effortless performance. No neck-snapping acceleration here, then, but the same team of experts is currently calibrating the new Jaguar using the same set of tools.
“You can deploy all the performance with the smallest angle of the throttle pedal, if you want to,” says Jaguar Land Rover’s chief dynamics guru, Matt Becker. “But what that means is you get too much performance too soon, because you have all the torque available from zero. Some of the early EVs suffered from that, leading to that sudden rush of power.
“You can also scale the throttle pedal and filter its response depending on which chassis mode you’re in. There are different ways of managing the power, but it is a challenge because there’s so much available. Remember that it’s also relative to the amount of mass you have.”
Colin Hoad is one of the lead instructors with CAT driver training. He teaches private clients who own high-performance cars, but most of their work is in training car industry development drivers. And he has identified some EV-related issues.
“It’s not just the large amount of horsepower, it’s also the instant torque delivery that’s a challenge,” Hoad says, echoing Becker’s point. “My gut feeling is that it’s too much for the average driver.”
Hoad adds that rebound damping, which controls the speed at which suspension extends after being compressed, also seems to be a challenge in some EVs. That’s because of the extra weight they’re carrying. “I’m not convinced that the valving in the damping has kept pace with the rest of the car,” he says.
This is not to say that carmakers aren’t rapidly improving things. For example, multilink suspension is now more commonplace, and the software and tech that supports stability control systems is vastly more sophisticated than it used to be. “In other words, drivers are protected from the worst-case scenario, if they’re suddenly overwhelmed … or run out of talent,” Hoad says.
WIRED is certainly not trying to instigate a moral panic here, but it may be worth asking if a recalibration needs to occur. There is such a thing as too much power.
Back to the Mercedes AMG GT XX, which features new battery-cell chemistry that allows it to charge at up to 850 kW. That’s a game changer right there, and tantalizingly promises recharging in mere minutes. Isn’t the speed at which you can recharge more meaningful in the real world than the speed at which you can hit 60?
