California in August is rarely short of spectacle, but amid the polished auctions and cocktail chatter of Monterey Car Week, a quieter unveiling took place. Gordon Murray, the South African-born engineer whose name has long carried a certain reverence in Formula One and road car design, revealed the first creations from his new division, Gordon Murray Special Vehicles.
It was a fitting stage. The cars themselves were shaped not as headline-chasing novelties, but as meditations on Murray’s past, his values, and his enduring fascination with Le Mans.
Special Vehicles is not another carmaker in the usual sense. While Gordon Murray Automotive continues with hand-built production cars, GMSV exists for the eccentric margins of the market: single commissions, heritage revivals, and ultra-limited projects. These are machines for collectors and dreamers, and perhaps just as importantly, for Murray himself.
The first projects are a pair of Le Mans tributes. Their purpose is not to chase nostalgia outright, but to reinterpret endurance racing’s golden years through Murray’s eyes.
The S1 LM carries the designation “Special One”, and is, in essence, an ode to Murray’s 1990s designs, particularly the McLaren F1’s famous victory at Le Mans in 1995. Only five will exist.
The car’s profile is marked by a lowered roofline and sculpted surfaces in lightweight carbon fibre. Aerodynamic additions recall the improvised downforce tricks of the Le Mans paddock, while the centrally placed V12—revving past 12,000 rpm—acts as both heart and theatre. Murray insists the engine is more than a component, calling it “half of the experience”.
Inside, the cockpit retains his commitment to central driving, a fighter jet posture in a sparse, minimalist frame. It is a reminder of his long-held belief that engineering is art as much as function.
If the S1 LM is a reverent nod, the Le Mans GTR is more adventurous. Only 24 will be built, one for every hour of the endurance race. The car draws not only on Murray’s own longtail racers but also on icons like the Porsche 917 and Matra-Simca MS660.
Its form is longer, lower, and more purposeful, with aerodynamics that rely less on gimmickry and more on airflow discipline. The V12 again provides the soundtrack, this time amplified by a roof-mounted intake that channels air like an organ pipe.
For track enthusiasts, the GTR promises sharper suspension, wider stance, and cooling details reminiscent of prototypes of old. Yet Murray insists that even here, comfort and craftsmanship are not sacrificed. Customers are invited to upholster the cockpit in ways that echo racing history or reinterpret it altogether.
What both cars reveal is less about horsepower figures or performance statistics and more about philosophy. Murray speaks often of seven guiding principles, among them lightness, proportion, and beauty. In a time when many supercars compete for shock value, his insistence on restraint feels almost radical.
There is, of course, exclusivity at play. All 29 cars across both models are already spoken for, the clients chosen as much as they chose the cars. Prices remain undisclosed, but that feels almost beside the point.
Murray is 78, yet his appetite for design shows little sign of dimming. Special Vehicles may not shift the wider automotive market, but perhaps that is its charm. It is a place where cars are shaped not for mass admiration but for those who find beauty in detail, proportion, and lineage.
At Monterey, the crowd eventually dispersed, drawn by louder spectacles elsewhere. But Murray has always been more interested in balance than noise. The two new cars, sitting quietly under the lights, seemed to embody that perfectly.
