In a humdrum world filled with turbo-two-liter-powered everything, we think it’s important to celebrate those engines that still give us chills when they come to mind long after we’ve interacted with them. Owning a very good indeed 2.0-turbo-powered Acura Integra Type S and a much more laid-back 455 Buick, I can attest that while the little four-pot is lively, the burbly V-8 beats it on character every time.
In talking through our favorites, we made a requirement that we had to have experienced our choice in some way, so this list isn’t merely a best-of in concept. There’s no shortage of great engines out there, and we’re but a handful of people, so sound off on the engine that pulled at your heartstrings the most—and the story of why—in the comments below.
I’ve driven exactly two Ferraris in my life—both on the same day, way back in 2004. One was a 612 Scaglietti, and I’d love to say its smooth V-12 was simply unforgettable, the best engine I’ve ever experienced. But I drove it in traffic, and once I did get to anything resembling a fun road, I was stuck behind a line of semitrucks, with an endless double-yellow ahead of us.
Then I hopped in the new F430, out in the wilds of central Oregon, and there was no traffic, no semis, nothing to prevent me from standing on it. So I stood on it. You grow up around enough Detroit V-8s, you just kind of assume you know what a V-8 sounds like. But the wail of that 490-hp thing over my shoulder, the forward thrust it produced, even now I can still picture the smile plastered to my face. — Stefan Lombard
“Hang on, I’m gonna get on it.” The split second I had to look around the interior for something to grab yielded nothing. The car’s nose shot skyward, pinning me to my seat. I’d heard and felt the reverberations of big-blocks from outside cars before, but this was the first OH This Is What Power Feels Like moment of my young life. The 1931 Model A we were riding in, dubbed “Rat’s Nest,” was my Uncle John’s most prized possession. He’d crammed a bored-out 427 Chevy and Muncie four-speed in it, and the result was utterly bonkers. I’ve come across “better” engines since then, but you never forget your first. — Eddy Eckart
There are many different ways I could go with this, but my mind immediately went to the 4.0-liter, naturally aspirated flat-six that sits up the rear of the Porsche 911 GT3. I can remember specifically driving a 2018 model year car while at another publication. My stint in it was brief—back then, I was merely a gopher helping to facilitate the logistics of a large test for more senior staffers—but the first time I pegged that tachometer north of 8K, the sound and experience became ingrained in my psyche forever. (That engine, by the way, still had another 1000 rpm to go before redline.)—Nate Petroelje
For the first couple of years in my dirt-track racing days, I didn’t have the horsepower. That’s why I wasn’t winning. The almost-stock 6.6-liter (400 cubic-inch) small block V-8 in the 1973 Chevrolet Chevelle did its best, but it was often thwarted by the Turbo 400 automatic transmission which, even though I had it in second gear, would unexpectedly shift into third, usually right in the middle of the turn. (Yes, I know there is a fix to keep the transmission in second, but automatic transmissions have their secrets, and I had no one to whisper them in my ear.) So we saved and scrimped, and I bought another ’73 Chevelle, this one a proven winner, with a chassis and an engine that were legal, but oh-so barely. It was the sweetest sound, that engine accelerating on the straights, or simply listening to its lumpy idle. Just as I was getting used to it, I changed jobs, and there was no way we would be able to take that car, plus the old 400-powered car, and still another V-8 Chevelle parts car I’d acquired from Texas to the new job in Michigan, so I had a heartbreaking dime-on-the-dollar fire sale since I had to get out of town fast. Because of my job, I have driven and raced cars, ridden motorcycles, and flown airplanes with some wonderful engines, but there’s nothing like the sound and feel of your engine. Oh, and later on I cracked the code as to why I was scarcely a mid-pack racer then: Turns out I just suck as a dirt-track driver. — Steven Cole Smith
Giotto Bizzarrini’s V-12, especially as fitted to the Lamborghini Miura. What’s most surprising is that such a massive motor feels so… fizzy. Peak power is close to 8000 rpm, and when the four Weber carbs start their feeding frenzy, the revs rise in an instant. The soundtrack is operatic, and click-clacking through the gated gearbox is pure theater. This recipe was refined, reaching its peak with the Diablo, and Lamborghinis have never quite been the same since the original V-12’s demise. It’s a rare privilege to have experienced it. — Nik Berg
Some of you may be shocked that my favorite engine of all time is not an inline-six. I cannot deny the tingle dashing up and down my spine every time I drive a Viper. To me, the most impressive and darling version of Chrysler’s V-10 is the one nestled between the front wheels of the Viper’s swan snake song, the 2016–17 ACR. Eight. Point. Four. Liters. Eight point four! 645 horsepower and 600 lb-ft of torque, delivered with the force of a sledgehammer and the anger of a spurned lover. The noises it makes are satanic. The X-brace Dodge bolted over it looks like it requires two operators with keys to simultaneously unlock, like a nuclear weapon. I usually prefer cars and engines that prioritize refinement, but anyone in audible range of a Viper is commanded to attention when it clears its throat, let alone shouts. Character? Gobs of it. — Eric Weiner
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