Porsche's landmark hypercar is a monument to technology. In addition to our traditional five facts, here are eight more awesome things you need to know.

At $845,000 per car, Porsche will lose money on each one.

This shouldn't be a surprise. Supercars are rarely moneymaking propositions. Hypercars—complicated, world-beating supercars with far more performance oomph and envelope-pushing technology—almost never are. Porsche officials wouldn't give specifics as to the 918's development budget, but every insider that we spoke with reiterated the same thing: The 918 is a loss leader. And building that sucker was expensive.

"The biggest challenge," an engineer told me, "was fitting all the computers."

The 918 is not a simple car. It takes a lot of computing power to run the car's various systems—engine management, infotainment, and stability control, like most cars, but also brake and regenerative control, system cooling (four electric water pumps, two for the engine alone), and so on. An early running prototype was on display at the media launch. When it was constructed, final packaging had yet to be determined; the car was built simply to see how the drivetrain would work in the real world. There was so much computer hardware, the engineers just threw the stuff in big aluminum flight cases, then bolted those cases to the car's nose and tail. It looked tacked-on but also awesome, like the lovechild of a Le Mans prototype and a dual-sport motorcycle.

To fix it, you have to break the car in half.

The 918's carbon-fiber structure is composed of two main components: a passenger shell and an enveloping engine cradle or web. As on the Carrera GT, if you have to perform major service on or remove either the engine or transmission, you have to unbolt the two sections, essentially splitting the machine in half. This is common on motorcycles and purpose-built racing cars but rare on street cars, even supercars. On motorcycles, it's known as "breaking the bike."

"You can perform any minor service without doing this," an engineer told me, "but really, the only minor service of note is the changing of the sparkings [plugs]." Note that the car has no accessory-drive belts, and its cams are chain-driven—so there's no changing a serpentine or timing belt, either. Which is good. Because you'd probably have to pull the engine to do those, too.

The 918's braking system is smarter and more complicated than your first car.

As with any hybrid, the 918's brakes have to do multiple jobs—stop the car, yes, but also blend in the regenerative (recharging) needs of the car's battery pack, incorporate functional ABS and stability-control systems, and feel something like normal in the process. Porsches are known for absolutely fantastic brake feel—a rock-solid pedal under all conditions, with little travel and great feel—and the 918's engineers claim that making the car's brakes behave like Porsche brakes was one of the most difficult parts of development. The system is electrically assisted, with a complicated assist servo mounted between the firewall/brake pedal and brake master cylinder. The servo is unique in the hybrid world, with the goal being to maintain an unbroken mechanical link between your foot and the car's hydraulic system.

There's also something the engineers could only call a "fluid capacitor" mounted in the car's nose. (Translation difficulties abounded during the launch; a lot of the technology on the 918 was dreamed up for the car by German engineers and thus has no direct correlation in English.) Below 0.5 g of braking force, the car uses its electric motors in regen capacity to recharge the battery pack. Above 0.5 g, it doesn't. The so-called capacitor, as its name implies, serves as a fluid reservoir that helps bridge the gap in mode change, allowing pedal feel to remain consistent and predictable no matter what the car is doing. It does, though you can occasionally sense some pedal weirdness around town, as if the car is trying to second-guess your intentions. But it's a monumental achievement because the brakes feel largely natural.

Predictably, this required enormous computing and development time. Even now, with production commenced, an engineer who wished to remain unnamed pronounced the car's brake calibration only "95 percent done."

The special paint costs a whopping $60,000.

That's really all you need to know. The colors are called Liquid Metal Silver and Liquid Metal Chrome Blue. This is in addition to any of the ten standard paint colors. Also, since it's a Porsche and the most expensive car the company builds, you can pretty much assume that the company will do anything for you if you ask nicely and are willing to pay for it.

The optional $32,500 magnesium wheels—standard on the $84,000 Weissach package—are light enough to lift with a finger.

I cranked one into the air, sans tire, with my pointer finger. It was like playing with part of the space shuttle.

Most people won't fit.

The seats adjust fore and aft but not for height or recline. The steering wheel telescopes but doesn't tilt. The sills are wide, the center console tall, and the windshield pillar is awfully close to your head. At five-foot-ten, I almost felt too big for the car.

If you're following a 918 in traffic and someone floors the throttle, you'll see it before you hear it.

When the 918 is in electric mode, engine off, it's silent. In drive modes where the engine is encouraged to shut off, it alternates between that silence and a THUNDEROUS, EAR-SPLITTING ENGINE SCREAM. In those modes, the engine can be lit off by toeing past a detent in the throttle or tapping the wheel-mounted downshift paddle.

The 918 has top-exit exhaust pipes. (The Germans charmingly call them "top pipes," which sounds like "tohp pyypes" with a German accent.) The engine is reverse-flow—a hot vee, with the intakes situated where a normal V8 carries its exhaust headers. The 918 concept's side pipes are gone for packaging and heat reasons; the production pipes exit right behind the cockpit and poke almost straight up. When the engine is on, they pound out so much heat that the air above them distorts like a mirage, turning the horizon into visual goo. Because sound works in mysterious ways, if you're several cars back in traffic, you often see the heat rippling off the car before you hear the engine. And then the moment the V8 shuts off, you lose the mirage.

Mark my words: This thing is a milestone, one of the most complex and ambitious automobiles built to date. It's also a hell of a good sports car. But then, who expected anything less?

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