THE MORNING of the Broadmoor Pikes Peak International Hill Climb (June 24) in central Colorado, there was drama on the mountain. Yes, a motorcycle racer had high-sided into the rocks above the tree line and catastrophe-dealing mists were closing in on the summit. But this was serious: Volkswagen’s camera helicopter was behind schedule.
After months of preparation, zero-hour had arrived for VW Motorsport’s future-shock hillclimber. The I.D. R Pikes Peak is essentially an all-electric Le Mans prototype, with fore and aft motors and all-wheel drive, leveraging a stupendous 671 hp against a curb weight of only 2,425 pounds, including driver. Hanging off the back is the I.D. R’s defining feature, a freakishly huge (and awesome) rear wing, wielding more than a metric ton of road-holding downforce.
In the VW team’s sights was the unlimited-class record of 8 minutes, 13.878 seconds, set by Sébastien Loeb in 2013 aboard a factory Peugeot 208 T16 rally car, an effort you could call fossil fuel’s best punch.
Technical director of VW Motorsport François-Xavier Demaison said he felt confident of the result, chopper notwithstanding. Electric cars have a number of advantages at Pikes Peak (elevation 14,114 feet). Unlike internal-combustion cars, EVs don’t lose power as the air thins. Also, Pikes Peak uses a flying start, a curving acceleration zone of about 100 yards before the timing beam. With 600 Nm of instant torque on tap, the I.D. R accelerates like a Formula One car, from 0 to 62 mph in a spasmodic 2.25 seconds.
Simulations showed the car capable of setting a record on the 12.42-mile, 4,725-foot, 156-corner course, with ace driver Romain Dumas “only pushing a little bit.”
But no chopper, no pictures; no pictures, no message. For VW, Pikes Peak was about the message.
Three years after revelations of the Dieselgate emissions cheating scandal, the VW brand desperately needs an image upgrade, particularly in its home market of Germany, where the scandal has cut deep into national pride and consumer goodwill. VW’s pitch is that it will lead in global vehicle electrification, eventually. “We will build electric cars by the millions, not just for millionaires,” said VW CEO of the Americas Hinrich J. Woebchen. It’s a good line.
Pikes Peak was well suited for this Euro-facing message. While its popularity in the U.S. has waned over decades, the event—timed solo passes up a fantasy of breathtaking curves, guard rails of blue sky and existential drop-offs—is revered in European rally racing circles, regarded as America’s inclinatious Nürburgring.
Pikes Peak was in turmoil for a decade while a road-paving project to the top was completed (2012). But since the asphalt surface was laid, more manufacturers have entered the fray and the records have come tumbling down.
Rotors beat overhead. The red belly of the camera copter flashed among the trees. Still the I.D. R was being held while the ambulance cleared the course.
‘Pikes Peak rules require that electric entrants blare a siren to alert spectators that might be crossing the road.’
VW’s hot pit consisted of a modest canopy on the two-lane’s unpaved shoulder, about 100 yards down the road from the staging area. Mr. Dumas, wearing a special ultralight racing suit, waited in the car while two flexible conduits pumped refrigerated air onto the batteries sitting in the cockpit with him. Under the technicians’ feet, an electrically conductive grounding mat defined the workspace.
As a race machine, the I.D. R is unusually mission-specific. Take, for example, the gigantic aerodynamic devices. Because the air density at the top of the mountain is about 35% lower than at sea level, the wings have to be about a third bigger to make the same downforce.
At Pikes Peak it can be shirt-sleeve weather at the start area and blowing a gale at the summit. It’s not uncommon for competitors to be red-flagged and sent back to the starting line, where by rule they have 20 minutes to reset.
Fast recharge generates a lot of heat; thus the two refrigeration units. The other unusual requirement was extreme power output (500 kW) for an operating lifetime of under 10 minutes. In road EVs, power output is limited to avoid overheating the batteries. For Pikes Peak—a single heroic uphill sprint—the engineers could afford to sacrifice the batts. “We’ll change them,” said Mr. Demaison with a smile.
Since no supplier inside VW Group offered the power density needed for the climb, the team used batts from U.S. supplier A123 Systems. They’ve never looked sexier.
Walkie-talkies crackled. The techs stripped off the tire warmers and lowered the car to the ground. At that moment, when Mr. Dumas initialized the car, it started to wail, a crazy, antique police siren—whhaaAHHHahhh-WhhaaHHHahh. Pikes Peak rules require electric entrants to have a siren to alert spectators. But of course: The race car of the future sounds like a 1930s gangster movie.
The I.D. R surged from its shelter, bucking and chattering toward the start line. The crowd closed in behind it and I lost sight of the big wing. A minute later the Doppler-shifted whine of an electric car, departing very fast, echoed through the trees. The paddock went quiet.
The monitors in the hospitality tent weren’t working (fail!). Most of the team jogged across the road to watch a TV screen in the back of a pickup. Mr. Dumas was on pace. The camera copter was having trouble keeping up. Around the pickup, the team was shoulder-to-shoulder, five-deep, very tall, very still.
Finally, the radios starting chirping: 7:57.148—an emphatic, era-defining 17 seconds faster than the gas-powered Mr. Loeb. First the young pit crew then the engineers and executives began hugging each other, chanting and jumping up and down like ebullient soccer fans.
Let the message go forth. If you want to be fast on the mountain, bring batteries.