It wasn’t just Gok Wan dishing out transformative makeovers in the 2000s. With the XF, designer Ian Callum revitalised the Jaguar brand, replacing wood panels with crisp aluminium and alleviating the long lingering whiff of old fart. It still felt like a Jag - just one that belonged in this century.
Legendary/notorious VW big cheese, Ferdinand Piëch spent much of the Noughties commissioning outlandish engineering projects - but even by his standards, this one was a doozy: a luxobarge capable of sitting at 186mph in 50 degree weather, while maintaining a cabin temp of 20 degrees. The resulting Phaeton was a spectacular car - albeit one that absolutely no one asked for. Or bought.
V10 truck. With stripes. Need we elaborate?
Once little more than utilitarian farm tools, SUVs were being increasingly favoured as urban status symbols by the 2000s. From oinks to oiks, if you will. The road-biased Rangie Sport leaned into this trend masterfully, delighting footballers, rappers and other human magpies with its blingy grille and bright paint options.
One of the defining themes of Noughties motoring was a certain attitude toward number of cylinders, specifically: “Let’s see if we can shove a few more in.”
There will be several entries on this list born from that mindset, starting with this: the first and last V10-powered M5. Pants reliability and Bangly styling marred its legacy, but at full chat it was otherworldly.
A bit like what would happen if you poured Monster Energy on a Furby. The Abarth 500 was a glorious return for the legendary tuner, cramming a lairy turbo four pot into a package the size of Nonna’s slipper with predictably hilarious results. Hopeless driving position and bone shattering ride only added to the sense of Italian authenticity.
The prettiest BMW of all time. Disagree? Come to the office and fight us. Inspired by the 507, the Z8 pulled off that rare balancing act of borrowing from the past without feeling like a tribute act. Its handling wasn’t quite as sharp as its design but no matter - the slower you drove, the longer people got to admire it.
Not really a Vauxhall at all, the Monaro was a Holden endeavour, engineered in Australia, where 6.0-litre V8s are considered sensible starter cars. The interior wasn’t fancy, the styling lacked drama, but its volcanic power plant and eagerness to make pretty clouds out of its tyres made it impossible not to love.
The moment the ’Vette evolved from corner shy muscle car into serious sports car. In later extra hot ZR1 guise, it even broke the production car record at the Nurburgring, completing a lap in 7 minutes 19.63 seconds. For our American readers, that’s 1.12 Hotel Californias.
Porsche always balked at the idea of doing a proper mid-engined hardtop sports car, from fear that its superior balance might shine too bright a light on the inherent absurdity of the arse-engined 911 and render it obsolete.
As a result, the Cayman’s power output was kept deliberately modest to avoid direct comparison. We don’t mind. If anything, it’s all the sweeter for its usable performance.
This is just some filler text. Frankly, it doesn’t matter what it says, because there’s zero chance of anyone reading it when there’s a picture of the 8C right there. Fiddlesticks. Pomeranian. Ring a ding ding.
Nowadays, barely a week goes by without Winkelmann (Stephan, not Claudia) whipping the covers off some dramatically rebodied, limited production, seven figure something-or-other.
The Reventón is from a time when special Lambos felt special. Mixing Murciélago underbits with fighter jet styling, it’s one of the decade’s definitive poster cars.
Maserati appeared to draw on the immortal words of Colin Chapman when creating the MC12 - except they slightly misremembered it as “Simplify and add longness”.
The resulting car was infinitely prettier than the Enzo on which it was based, and formidable in GT1 racing, but not what you’d call practical. Unless you were looking for somewhere to land a small plane.
Morgan added a tapered tail and some triangular windows, and turned its loveable garden shed into a hauntingly beautiful gothic church.
Less a car, more a driveable work of art. Even the patronage of Richard Hammond couldn’t detract from its coolness.
Germany may have been the most prolific contributor to the aforementioned Noughties trend of cylindermaxxing - think VR6 Golf, V10 RS6, W12 Touareg - but the poster child came from France.
The side-intaked, widebodied Clio V6 did it with real panache, its bonkers exterior reflecting the utter madness happening within. And in Mk2 guise was slightly more driveable than its predecessor, too.
Japanese automakers rarely stoop to making muscle cars, tending to favour the scalpel over the hammer. But sometimes they treat themselves. With its big chested V6, garish orange paint and spaceship door handles, the Nissan 350Z was a delicious departure from restraint - a lovable thug deserving of its place in the Z car lineage.
It takes some doing to be the standout psycho in a madhouse like TVR. It’s not like Griffith and Tuscan were wallflowers. But with its sideways pipes, see-through spoiler, and haunches seemingly detailed with an axe, the Sagaris was comfortably the brand’s most unhinged creation.
Ironically, it was also the most refined and agreeable to live with.
Time has been kind to the big Scag. In period it was deemed ugly and panned for its clunky, primitive F1 ’box. Today its clean lines exude elegance, especially compared to Ferrari’s current angular offerings.
As for the gearbox? Just lift off when you upshift. It’s a little annoying, but there’s something about a howling V12 that puts us in a forgiving mood.
Still hard to believe it’s a four seater. Well, three and a half. With ultra thin seats, an asymmetric dash and a diff placed in front of the engine, the IQ remains one of the auto industry’s most ingenious pieces of packaging. To this day, it’s the most compact four(ish) seat car ever made.
Has a hot hatch interior ever been more perfect than this? Nestled in those red bucket seats, the steel gear knob situated just inches away from the wheel, you knew the Type R was something special before you even fired it up. And that you were going to need oven gloves to change gear in summer.
Doesn’t look like a Ford factory product as much as something a bloke called Barry did himself in a shed - which is pretty much what happened. The OG RS was a proper skunkworks project developed by a tiny team in the UK.
Sophisticated it was not - violent torque steer turned straight roads into bicep workouts - but nothing came close for sheer bang for buck performance.
Regarded by many as the greatest generation of the post-aircooled era, the 997 is where the 911 really established its rep as the performance car that could do everything.
Want a usable, analogue sports car? Have a manual Carrera. Fancy a comfortable all-weather daily? Yours is a C4 with PDK. Looking to embarrass supercars? Step into this Turbo, sir. Want to see God? Try this GT3 RS. More on the latter later.
Having acquired Bentley from Rolls Royce in the late Nineties, VW decided the British marque had the potential to be more than just a niche brand for people with red trousers and houses with moats.
The bold, curvaceous new Conti realised that potential, while its monstrous twin-turbo W12 powerplant ensured it remained true to Bentley’s core values: going like stink and doing so effortlessly.
After a slight wobble with the Mk3 and a full blown stinker with the Mk4, the Mk5 Golf GTI emphatically corrected the course of the lineage.
Handsome yet understated, quick yet comfortable and offered with a groundbreaking DSG ’box, it was the ultimate jack of all trades hot hatch.
To turn one of the finest hot hatches of its generation into one of the greatest of all time, Renault indulged in the sort of modifications you’d only expect from your least financially literate, most car obsessed pal.
Namely, fitting race car grade suspension worth 10 times as much as the original setup. An extraordinary expenditure for a car whose interior is made of chocolate, but the results spoke for themselves.
Although magnificent to drive, the cabin of any 2000s Lotus was a truly torturous place to be for any extended period of time. There are outtakes from Casino Royale where, instead of smacking him in the plums with a length of rope, Le Chiffre simply forces Bond to drive an Exige through rush hour traffic.
The Evora brought drastically improved cabin space and ride comfort - but the real magic was in just how little of that dainty Lotus-ness was sacrificed in doing so.
The hardcore version of the hardcore version of the hardcore version of Renault’s big booty family hatch set a new bar for FWD performance, and did so not through increased power, but fanatical weight loss. Everything that could go went, from the rear seats to electric wing mirrors.
In total, 123kg were shed, Nurburgring records were broken, and icon status was cemented.
Consider the order of this and the next two entries interchangeable. We couldn’t split them when we tested them on the telly show and we still can’t now. And really, we think of them as one single entity that embodies the zenith of big capacity super-saloons.
Having said all that, judged purely by the sheer fury of their engines, the Merc’s 6.2-litre monster resides in a league of its own.
That time the M3 stepped outside of its marriage to the smooth, sophisticated straight six and had a wild fling with a V8. Its engine was still smaller than the Merc and Audi’s, but it was hard to lament the inferior litreage when bouncing off the rev limiter at a raucous 8,200rpm.
Today’s RS4 is all show - a mouthy football fan, claiming to want to scrap yet seemingly held back by some invisible force field. By contrast, the B7 was an unassuming chap in a cardigan, who could quietly break your arm without looking up from his lunch.
No cartoonishly swollen arches or gaping intakes, just a dog friendly hauler with a motorsport-grade NA V8 and apocalyptic exhaust note. A strong contender for Audi’s greatest ever performance car.
The last mid-engined Ferrari offered with a manual but the first to feature the manettino dial on the wheel, allowing you to drastically alter the car’s personality.
In that sense, the 430 is a lovely example of the blending of old and new that we so love about this decade. The track-focused Scuderia isn’t as revered as the 458 Speciale, but really should be.
That rarest of things: a piece of perfect design. Frank Stephenson’s creation reinvented the Mini without feeling like a lazy pastiche, while BMW engineering ensured that the legendary go kart handling remained despite the weight gains.
Ours is a feral, bewinged Cooper S Works GP, if you’re offering.
Old Enzo was a motorsport man who begrudgingly sold road cars to fund his passion. Fitting then, that the car which bore his name was the raciest Ferrari ever made - a distillation of knowledge amassed through utter domination of Formula 1 during Schumacher’s imperious reign.
Pretty it was not. Enzo wouldn’t have cared. Effective it most certainly was.
Despite its resemblance to DB7, the two couldn’t have been more different. The former was a bodge job, cobbled together from old Jag parts on a shoestring budget - the DB9 was the real deal.
With an all-new aluminium platform and all-new V12 (no it wasn’t 'just two Ford V6s welded together', behave), it delivered on the DB7’s slightly unfulfilled promises and cemented Aston as a serious player in the supercar space.
Some argue that this is 'peak car'. That’s debatable, but you’ll certainly find very few people willing to argue against it being the best ever Range Rover. Older Rangies were still a little agricultural, later models a touch frou-frou for some tastes.
The L322 blended rugged capability and exquisite opulence to perfection. Jezza still tools around in his.
Now this is how you do a seven figure special edition. No rebodied production model here - the One-77 was a bespoke symphony of motorsport-grade hardware and aluminium bodywork. Its lights, doors, wheels and glass were all unique to it - an extraordinary expense for a car limited to 77 units.
Kids today love talking about 'aura'. Find us a car with more of it.
Porsche has never done a bad one, but the 997 iteration, with its manual box, raucous engine and compact footprint might just be the best of the lot.
Most hardcore specials distinguish themselves through weight saving or additional power. But the Black cared only for stiffness. Everything was reinforced and strengthened. An LSD was added. Cooling was upgraded. None of that is remotely sexy, but the combined effect was profound: a “weapons grade” machine, as Clarkson called it, shortly before buying himself one.
The first Lambo developed under Audi’s ownership brought welcome improvements to usability and build quality - which is a polite way of saying 'was somewhat driveable and not made from egg cartons'. But any fears Lambo had gone all soft and sensible were quickly allayed.
With its baleful V12 howl, exotic colours and 'batwing' air intakes, the Murci' remains one of the most dramatic supercars of all time, both to drive and to look at.
There’s a very good reason why we’re featuring the S2000 in this piece, despite the fact it actually arrived in late 1999. Namely, that we forgot it did. Oops. We blame the misleading name.
Anyway, we don’t expect many complaints about it being sneaked in here, because the S2K is one of those universally adored enthusiast cars - a stripped down hit of pure driving pleasure that makes everything above it look a bit silly and excessive.
If the Honda NSX proved that supercars could be bearable to live with, the Audi R8 proved they could be wonderful to live with. True, the first gen V8 wasn’t the quickest, even in its day - but that only meant more opportunities to enjoy the manual gearbox on your morning commute.
Modern cars are so good at wearing multiple hats at once but we’re not sure anything since has matched the OG R8’s beguiling combination of daily usability and supercar specialness.
After an extended hiatus, Nissan’s beloved GT-R returned in 2007 and got right back to doing what it had always done best: humiliating supercars. Off the line its groundbreaking launch control system saw it sprint to 60mph quicker than a 911 Turbo.
It was so ridiculously ahead of its time that Nissan built it for 18 years with minimal updates, and by the end of its run there was still precious little that went faster for the money.
Arguably represents the exact point that series production supercars became 'WTF' fast. Like 'seriously, you’re selling that to the general public?' fast. Thankfully, Ferrari, keen for owners to live long enough to buy more Ferraris, also went to the trouble of innovating a suite of groundbreaking e-assists.
This was the 599’s triumph: when it held your hand, instead of feeling nannied, you felt empowered.
Admit it, when you close your eyes and think of an M car, you picture this. With its unmistakable, metallic six cylinder bark, bulging bonnet and menacing quad exhaust tips, the E46 M3 is one of BMW’s all-time masterpieces.
Disturbing on many levels to think you could probably pass this entire car through the current M3’s nostrils.
True to the spirit of the Noughties, Aston jammed its biggest engine into its smallest model and produced something wonderful. More sensible journalists would likely focus on the V8 Vantage here, a car which had a far greater impact on society and indeed Aston.
Us? No chance. Quad-nostriled unicorn, please.
Sometimes, you don’t know what you want in life until it’s placed in front of you. For instance, we had no idea how much we wanted a hyper GT/muscle car/we’re-still-not-completely-sure-what until the SLR rocked up with its bonnet stretching into the distant horizon and fire breathing side pipes igniting nearby pedestrians' trousers.
A wonderfully mad, utterly unique machine.
Ford’s 100th birthday present to itself - certainly beats a letter from the King. The GT was a recreation of the iconic race car that crushed Ferrari at Le Mans in one of history’s most expensive acts of pettiness. But this was no highly strung racer - the GT was a big friendly fella.
Few cars in history have made such towering performance feel so accessible.
Often, artisanal exotic cars built in tiny numbers are better appreciated from a distance - up close, they tend to reveal the gaps and wonky bits that demonstrate why we stopped building everything by hand some time ago. The magic of the Zonda? The closer you looked, the more extraordinary it was.
Every detail - from the gear linkage to the exhaust tips - was seized as an opportunity to transcend engineering into an art. Supercars don’t get more super than this.
Funny to think that this, one of the greatest ever supercars, was really just an excuse to make use of an engine Porsche had lying around. That lightweight V10 was initially developed for F1, but never saw a race. It was then bored out and modified for use at Le Mans, but the stars never aligned for that either.
'Sod it then,' said the Porsche brass, but in German. 'We’ll flog it to regular schmoes.' The resulting Carrera GT was a fussy, grumpy, intimidating beast - but thank goodness the world finally got to hear that V10 sing. Don’t @ us - it’s the best Porsche ever made.
Think about how crazy it is to set a group of engineers the task of creating a road car that breaks the top speed record… effortlessly. That’s like saying 'go and win the London Marathon, but you’re not allowed to sweat'. But that was just how Ferdinand Piech rolled. And so the Veyron came to be, with its 16 cylinders, four turbos, 10 radiators and 253mph top speed.
It couldn’t have happened at any other time, under any other brand. Nothing quite like it will ever happen again. The Veyron is the Concorde of cars, and the greatest machine from automotive’s most magical decade.
