Ferrari people say this is the last hurrah
for the naturally aspirated V8. What a way to go. It’s a mechanism of intensely
vivid moods and sentiments. It has a caffeinated obsession with change, its
sound and reactions shifting with each tiny variation in pedal position or
crank speed. It shares that with the best of its predecessors, but none of them
could quite operate in this realm of brutal performance, not once the 458 hits
its stride between 6,000 and a crazed 9,000rpm. In the middle revs, it’s charismatic
and attentive and strong, but then things swell into something really quite
drastic, and it just goes on gaining in brazen hysteria until that red line.
All of which means it’s a busy but profoundly engaging job to get the best from
it, because you need to use the gears to keep the revs high, but with those
high revs comes such acceleration that you’re very much occupied with other
things. Like keeping the car aimed in the right direction. The shift-up lights
around the top of the steering wheel rim – and the electrifyingly quick
transmission – become your special friends in this ceaselessly absorbing task.
The
Ferrari's interior is a very civilised affair with Manettino dial manages
gearbox, ABS, suspension, e-diff and stability control functions
Prudence mandates a steady cruising speed
on the motorway, mind. But soon the Dolomites start rising out of the horizon,
first in shades of grey like a school craft lesson, overlapping glued shapes
torn from tracing paper. Then they saturate into early-summer colours, and the
motorway follows a deep slot gouged between. Time to turn the Ferrari’s nose
skywards, onto the tricky, fascinating roads that swerve and back-double their
way to the high passes. The tree-line is high here, and we need to get above it
to find clear sight-lines to exercise the Speciale’s legs.
Name your corner: tight, fast, smooth,
bumpy. They’re here in abundance, and the Speciale is a voracious omnivore. In
the fast corners, its grip is epic, your confidence in it buoyed by the
astoundingly lucid and precise steering. In slower corners, it’s the dragonfly
agility that spurs you on, and the controlled adaptive-damper suppleness that
effortlessly shrugs off poor surfaces. In the hairpins you’re working with the
ultra-quick steering rack and, if there’s space, the Speciale’s party-piece
‘side-slip control’ lets you put in cheeky skids while still protecting you
from yourself.
The
918’s interior is all about offering the driver a great driving experience
And so the hours pass in a series of saw-tooth
undulations. Every few minutes we gain then lose then gain altitude; every few
seconds we go left then right then left; and in even faster rhythms the V8
joyously cycles through its upper octaves. All this drama and force and
control, played out amid a stageset to end them all. Finally, we cross the epic
Monte Giovo pass, fall back down into the trees and spur up again towards the
Timmelsjoch. The Italian side, the Passo del Rombo, having been started as a
military route pre-war, wasn’t finished until 1967. Big buses and trucks are
barred, and it’s shut at night. You can see why. Towards the top are two
hairpin staircases, the road clinging by its fingernails to the vertiginous
rock faces. The Speciale lights it up, a firework of redness and resonating
howl. At the top it stops, its engine silent but for the pinging of cooling
metal. For a few minutes I sit and allow the continuing sensations of the trip
to marinade me.
The
Porsche Cayman S has a classy and upmarket interior
Heart rate subsiding, I hand over its key
and take the Cayman for the descent into Austria. Can it compete with the
Ferrari? Don’t be silly. The Austrian side of the pass is smoother, more
flowing and wider – probably more of a Ferrari road, if I’m being honest.
Because gravity is with me at first, I don’t actually miss the Speciale’s
immense power. The immediate difference is that for the sake of daily-use
refinement, the Porsche’s body movements are looser, and its steering and
brakes feel slightly bubble-wrapped alongside the knife-sharpness of all the
red car’s connections. But dig deep into the Porsche’s actions, and it’s clear
it knows how to work with its driver. It does precisely what you ask, with a
warm and generous spirit.
