There’s something deeply satisfying about intentionally losing control of a car. The rear end swings wide, your heart jumps into your throat, and if you’ve got the skill (or luck), you catch it with a dab of opposite lock and a slight lift of the throttle. It’s the automotive equivalent of walking a tightrope without a net.
Except these days, there’s always a net. And after spending a day deliberately thrashing a McLaren Artura on a frozen lake in Finland, I’ve never been more grateful for that fact.
The folks at McLaren invited a group of journalists to Saariselkä, a speck of civilization north of the Arctic Circle where the sun barely bothers to show up in winter. We were there to play on ice, specifically a frozen lake in Ivalo that’s thick enough to support supercars doing donuts. The whole setup exists because frozen lakes offer something rare: wide open spaces with almost zero grip and nothing to hit if things go sideways. Literally.
When Your Inner Ear Betrays You
My first task was deceptively simple. Drive in a circle. Sideways. For 15 minutes straight.
With the McLaren’s stability control off and 671 horsepower trying to push a set of studded winter tires beyond their already minimal grip, getting sideways wasn’t the hard part. Staying that way in a controlled manner while your brain screams that something is very wrong turned out to be the challenge I wasn’t expecting.
About 10 minutes in, my vestibular system decided it had enough of the constant lateral forces mixed with zero visual reference points. The gray sky blended seamlessly with the snow-covered ice, creating a disorienting void. I found myself standing outside in shirtsleeves at minus-11 degrees Fahrenheit, saying goodbye to my breakfast. At least I remembered to face downwind.
After some fresh air and medication that shall remain nameless, I learned an important lesson: alternate your slide direction or prepare to get intimate with whatever you last ate.
The Silicon Safety Net Actually Works
Here’s what surprised me most about the whole experience. When you turn all the electronic aids back on in a car with nearly 700 horsepower and then absolutely pin the throttle on ice, the car just… goes where you point it. Slowly, sure, but safely.
The Technology working behind the scenes is frankly remarkable. The Artura’s brain measures lateral acceleration, wheel spin, steering angle, and probably a dozen other variables I can’t name. It knows when a wheel is losing grip before you do. And it responds by cutting power and applying individual wheel brakes with a speed and precision that makes my driving look like a toddler with a toy steering wheel.
I tried every mode the car offered. In pure electric mode, the 94 horsepower from the motor was enough to break the rear loose but not enough to sustain a proper slide. You could lazily drift around corners in near silence, which felt wonderfully absurd. Full power with stability control on meant the car measured out torque like a pharmacist dispensing controlled substances, only giving the wheels what they could actually use.
The middle ground, McLaren’s Variable Drift Control, lets you set a maximum slip angle between 1 and 15 degrees. Pick your number, mash the throttle, and the car will slide exactly that much and no more. It’s flattering as hell. You feel like a drift king while the computer does most of the actual work keeping you from ending up buried in a snowbank.
The Artificial Feel of Modern Performance
There’s something slightly hollow about VDC once you spend time with the aids completely off. Sure, it’s thrilling and makes for great Instagram content, but you can feel the invisible hand guiding you. The business case for systems like this is obvious though. Manufacturers can let journalists and customers push cars harder than they probably should, secure in the knowledge that the silicon safety net will catch them before things get expensive.
And honestly? Outside of controlled environments like frozen lakes, I’ll keep some level of assistance running. The Artura is remarkably easy to catch when it steps out, with most of its 3,303 pounds sitting between the axles and a well-mapped throttle that gives you plenty of modulation. But the difference between catching a slide and not catching it often comes down to milliseconds and millimeters. The tech can react faster than I can blink.
What This Means For Normal Driving
The real revelation isn’t about supercars on ice. It’s about what these systems do for regular people driving regular cars in regular conditions. Electronic stability control became mandatory in the early 2010s, and it’s been quietly saving lives ever since by keeping cars pointed in the direction their drivers intended rather than spinning into oncoming traffic.
That moment when your rear end breaks loose unexpectedly on a wet road or a patch of black ice isn’t exhilarating, it’s terrifying. And if you’re not practiced in car control (which most people aren’t), the outcome probably isn’t good. Modern stability systems have become sophisticated enough that they handle these situations better than most drivers ever could, even experienced ones.
After a day of deliberately trying to outsmart the electronics and mostly failing, I’ve developed a new appreciation for the computers keeping watch while I drive. They’re not there to ruin the fun or coddle incompetent drivers. They’re there because physics is unforgiving and mistakes happen fast, especially when grip disappears and momentum takes over.
