Ferrari 456M
Ferrari fantasy – a dream come true Ferrari 456M GT A matter of opinion
CAN there be any car quite as magical as a Ferrari? The name is synonymous with speed and sleek automotive shapes with exclusivity and legendary race victories.
To anyone who has a pinch of petrol running through their veins, a chance to drive a Ferrari is a chance to fulfil a fantasy.
So when Ferrari gave me the chance to borrow a Ferrari 456M GT touring coupe for a few days, it was as though I had won the lottery – which is what I’ll need to do if I’m ever to own a car with the prancing horse badge.
Throughout my so-far 16-year career as a motoring journalist, I must have driven at least 800 cars.
None have been Ferraris. So it’s understandable that it took me a fraction of a nano-second to say yes when Maranello Concessionaires offered the chance to drive one.
The car that came wasn’t the classic Ferrari red but a neat silver metallic that I hoped would confuse the ever-watchful ’speed cop’ for just long enough to be out of sight.
It was also an automatic for modern, congested urban times have caught up with even classically pure sports cars. Sacrilege, some would say.
The Ferrari 456M GT is a Ferrari for the family man. It has four seats instead of the traditional two and comes equipped with the same conveniences – air conditioning, electric windows, electric door locks, electric seats and such like – as a Jaguar or Mercedes benz.
Comparisons to everyday cars end there however.
The Ferrari 456M GT has a 436bhp 5.5-litre V12 engine that can propel the coupe to over 180mph. On the streets of Merseyside I didn’t achieve anything like that. Honest, officer.
The engine is mounted in front, like Ferraris were when the late Enzo Ferrari built his first sports car over 50 years ago. The car is swathed in big, sensuous bodywork by Turin design house Pininfarina reminiscent of the 1970s Daytona coupe. Think Jaguar XK8 on steroids. Climb into the car and the first thing you notice is the beating of your heart. If it’s not racing, get out and go to the Skoda dealer down the road; the Ferrari is not for you.
The other thing you notice is how comfortable it is. The seats are about as comfortable as anything I have ever sat in. Fire up the engine and those 12 cylinders emit a wonderful sound, from the muted mechanical whine of 48 valves at work up front to the burble of a bass exhaust note.
Pop it into gear and the Ferrari moves away smoothly. Keep a light pressure on the pedal and it’s as easy to drive as a Fiesta. Stab the accelerator and it’s more like the starship Enterprise going into warp drive.
The Ferrari 456M GT has electronically controlled suspension that can be put in normal or sport mode with as many as 17 settings for the computer to choose from. The driver is made aware of every little pebble in the road when changing from normal to sport, the type of instant communication you want in a performance car.
The car costs an astronomical pounds 170,000 but what you get for that sky-high price is a car that is a mobile work of engineering and styling art. It is a statement of what an ultimate performance car can be when price is no object.
The Ferrari combination of performance, style and racing heritage is unique . . . and addictive. Since driving the Ferrari 456M GT I’ve started doing the lottery every week. I think of it as my Ferrari investment fund.
THERE are supercars, then there are Ferraris, which are totally in a league of their own.
Nothing else captures the magic of this pedigree of pedigrees.
Just a glimpse of the Prancing Horse is enough to give you an adrenalin rush. Get behind the wheel and feel the surge of power with just a blip of the gas – as it pins you firmly into that wraparound racing seat – and you’re halfway to heaven.
The love affair with Ferrari eclipsed the passion for earlier versions of the frog-squat 911 I had clamped my eyes on at the age of seven in Cheddar Gorge. That was a long time ago, and while the affection for the Porsche is still strong, it is somewhat transcended by the fascination for Ferraris.
Maybe it was that predecessors of today’s 911 seemed within reach of ordinary motorists being driven on ordinary roads and not racetracks, whereas any thought of owning a Ferrari as your ‘other car’ was regarded as sheer fantasy or lunacy – or both.
But the dream did become reality and young and foolish saw me the proud joint owner of a secondhand Ferrari 308GTV which, of course, cost an arm and a leg.
We didn’t have it for long, but long enough to become totally seduced by the Italian thoroughbred – before a mortgage and other responsibilities took priority.
Twenty years on it was with a song in my heart and a stirring of precious memories of the GTV that I took the wheel of Ferrari’s ultra- modern and most expensive car, the Ferrari 456M GT.
I have had the chance to drive several models from the Maranello stable over the years – even the Testarossa – but these were just brief excursions of an hour or so on press driving days.
This one, which came in satinised silver and looked almost as good as Ferrari Red, we got to keep for over a week.
The 456 is, of course, sculpted by the great Pininfarina stylists as opposed to the Bertone House – as in the 308GTV – which some regarded as too angular for a Ferrari.
The 456m GT’s sublime silhouette is breathtaking – curvaceous and sensual, yet dignified, and talk about sex appeal – one guy referred to it as motorised Viagra. I wouldn’t know about that, but I guess it conveys the message.
The front valances are massive and sweep into beautiful sleek sides and taper into a noble bonnet: the sheer width of the car is mindboggling, particularly on Pennine roads wher drystone walls loom perilously close on either side.
Even in such inappropriate countryside, the Ferrari’s behaviour was impeccable: quicksilver response but still safe and very sure- footed. In such conditions the official consumption of 12mpg went out of the window, plummeting to nearer 10mpg.
The effect was the same when the 48 valves of the 5.5litre unit worked near capacity as the dream car hurtled towards its 186mph maximum – on an old airstrip, of course: the 308 I owned managed a mere 150mph! But who’s counting?
The sheer muscle of the V12 and the wonderful deep burbling from the exhausts set me thinking. If I sold the house and cashed in a couple of insurance policies, maybe, just maybe . . .
