There is more than one type of V8 engine in the world, of course, but when people say they like V8s, I think we know what they're mostly talking about.
They don't usually mean high-revving, flatplane-cranked V8s like those you will find in many supercars or racing cars - the ones that sound like two four-cylinder engines welded together, which is not surprising, because that's essentially how their cylinders fire.
No, they usually mean old-school, fat (in both the 'f' and 'ph' versions of the word) crossplane-cranked V8s, often of Detroit descent, with a low rumble, a broad and responsive powerband and often a shouty upper range.
These are the noises of Nascar, Mad Max and the drag strip, and yet also a luxury sports car or off-roader or speedboat. This kind of V8 engine is as versatile as the breadth of its torque band. And if you like them, I think you probably really like them.
Seemingly a lot of people do. Start typing 'why do V8 engines' into a search engine and 'sound so good?' is one of the top suggested sentence completions.
Exactly why they sound so good is hard to say, because the precise sound that one makes depends on a lot of factors, from firing order to engine size, vee angle, bore and stroke plus everything ancillary besides.
Whatever, though, there is a particular character to them. I did read that at low revs the offbeat rumble, which comes because two cylinders on the same bank will often fire one after the other before the firing order swaps banks again, is redolent of a heartbeat, so a softly pulsing vee can be soul-soothing, like being back in the womb.
Call it redneck floatation therapy. But there might be nothing in that. If it wasn't in the womb, I can't tell you when I first heard the sounds of a V8 engine, because, as with you, it will have been present throughout my entire life.
The first known V8 was made in 1904, designed by Léon Levavasseur for French engine maker Antoinette.
So in the same way that I don't remember first hearing Beethoven's Symphony No 7, the V8 has always been there. The two are among my favourite sounds, and it would have been extraordinary to be fully conscious when I first heard either so I could remember the shock of it.
Such was the success of Beethoven's seventh that when the composer finished conducting the piece at its premiere, the audience demanded part of it was played again immediately as an encore.
I can imagine that when the Antoinette was first shut down there might have been bravos from onlookers too. 'Hey Léon, fire that up again, won't you?'


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Hi Matt,
After recovering from a life threatening illness, I had one of those YOLO moments and, encouraged (enabled) by my girlfriend, I purchased a TVR Chimaera. Not a fancy one, a 400, which equates to one with a breathed on 3.9 Rover V8 out of off of a Discovery. Did all the wrong things, didn't get the best possible one, cos the first one I heard made THAT NOISE when it started up and my wallet was thenceforth doomed.
3 years in, I'm learning from my naivety. There's some fairly hefty bills in my near future, all related to a 28yr old car built in a shed and bought in haste, BUT. The car is a keeper.
Cos V8. That offbeat artillery barrage at idle in the garage, when it's been lit up for the first time after the winter layoff. The gentle massaging of what is basically a a bit of a truculent brute for the first few miles whilst the temp gauge drags itself away from zero .That angry, furious hardening of the intake and exhaust notes as you finally get the chance to give it some past 3000RPM. The (almost) NASCAR fury as the thing gets properly going, gear upon gear , hedonism ablaze, and the panic when you glance at the dials and decide you need rein in your enthusiasm.
Then back to reality. Rumbling through villages at 28MPH. Missus laughing every time she spots a bystander turning and smiling, kids pointing at this tiny car with its ludicrous engine which makes, at best, 200 BHP.
I have other, much faster, cars, but nothing stirs the soul like my the sound of the old, slightly tatty cross plane Rover V8 in my Trev.