You can tell an awful lot about the Rimac Nevera in the first 200 m. Not how barkingly fast it is or how far it moves the game on in the rarefied world of the hypercar – those realisations come later – instead, how polished it is purely as a product. How well built it is, how sweetly matched the weighting and gearing of its steering seems, how synchronised its throttle and brake pedals feel, how easily you can climb in and out, how clearly you can see out of it, how beautifully damped it is and how refined it is at everyday speeds.
Even after 20 seconds, you can tell the Nevera rides perfectly for a car of this type. You can tell, too, how fundamentally well resolved it is from the way it filters all the unwanted stuff that goes on beneath your hands and backside, creating sound but not noise as it glides across the landscape … there’s a world of difference between those two things. From every move it makes in the first few moments you spend in it, the Nevera feels like the product of a marque that has been honing its craft for decades, not just a few years.
Yet, here it is, a brand new hypercar from what is still a largely unheard-of carmaker
