Jeremy Clarkson and James May set out to find the worst car in the history of the world — but with one key rule: it has to be an expensive car from a manufacturer that really should have known better. Cheap Eastern European rust buckets or obvious low-budget disasters don't count.
They review and roast various contenders (including the FSO Polonez, some odd Jeep copies, Ferrari Mondial, Ford GT for weird reasons, and others), but ultimately crown the Lexus SC 430 (2001–2010 model, known in some markets as Toyota Soarer) as the worst car in the history of the world. The special ends with a symbolic "prize" for the loser: handing the car over to Richard Hammond to destroy/play with as scrap.
Spoiler warning: this post-finale analysis discusses events and themes from The Grand Tour Season 7, including the finale, which aired on Prime Video on September 4, 2026.
Season 7 of The Grand Tour arrived with an enormous challenge: how do you continue a series so closely associated with Jeremy Clarkson, Richard Hammond and James May without simply imitating them? Across its four episodes, the 2016 Prime Video hit leaned into that question rather than pretending it did not exist. Thomas, Francis and James were introduced with an official blessing from Clarkson in the premiere, and by the finale, the season had become less about replacing the original trio and more about proving that The Grand Tour is a format strong enough to survive a change in rhythm, chemistry and perspective.
The finale worked because it understood what viewers actually come to The Grand Tour for. Yes, the cars matter. Yes, the jokes matter. But the secret engine of the series has always been the collision between expertise, idiocy and friendship. Episode 4’s mission to discover “the strongest car ever made” could have been a simple excuse for destruction, and to be fair, it absolutely was that too. But the destructive tests had an old-school Grand Tour purity to them: a daft question treated with total seriousness, an escalating series of challenges, and the wonderful sense that no producer in the room had been brave enough to say, “Maybe this is too much.”