2006 Ferrari F430 F1 SpiderToday was my chance to see just what the new Ferrari F430 F1 was like as I'd drive it to Le Mans. I'm not seeing this as a race, not even an endurance test but to gain an insight into how this car performs in the real world. My story isn't about the most radical new supercar but what the current model Ferrari offers as an experience.
With the modest front luggage area crammed full of camping equipment and my general mans stuff, all that was left was for my girlfriend to get in, sit down and hold on. Then I quickly realised I would need to empty the Ferrari of all my belongings so that we can take the much needed 67 pairs of high heeled shoes, 3 pairs of hair straighteners and the contents of Gatwick's lost baggage department. After another 45 minutes of shoe horning our stuff back in, we were all set for the big off, well Dover anyhow.
I always like to travel via the ferry when driving through continental Europe as it just makes the adventure feel more like you're actually going somewhere rather than being stuck in a large pipe.
The disappointing thing I first notice about this car is the door handle. A thin piece of triangular plastic that feels it will snap if you pull it too hard. First impressions go a long way and for my previous Ferrari experiences it's not good. Once inside you're eyes are drawn to the prancing horse on the steering wheel but after a while you start to notice the interior for what it is. A thing of style for sure but I can't help think it's just so much like a play station, with all the buttons in lairy colours and futuristic shapes of enjoyment. But somehow these are minor issues, they all disperse quite rapidly when you press the button that fires the 490 bhp engine into life 8 inches behind your ears.
As many of you know, Ferrari's have a distinctive engine sound and one that you can usually detect without seeing the car. When you notice one drive past you in town with a high exhaust note you may think what a poser or words like that. This is not so much the case, but more they are designed as a high revving machine and at 30 mph you have to almost drive in second gear otherwise it's away.
We avoided the delights of the M25 but headed through the glorious back roads of rural England. What a peach! this is about as real as Ferrari ownership will practically ever get. Inside we're comfortable, ergonomically everything is on hand. On the outside passers by get the chance to turn their heads, not just at my girlfriend but from the beautiful appearance of this car. This isn't the place to mention handling but I can tell it's crisp and the ride is one of the best I've ever experienced for a Ferrari, it takes potholes and bumps well as the chassis is switched for normal everyday conditions. There's a magnitude of electro gizmos to play with but I'm not in the least bit interested in that. This is going to be pure driving, raw Ferrari in its finest.
Once through customs we hit the ferry lane and switch off. Within a minute a cross section of society is taking pictures on their phones, looking and talking about the car. One man from Yorkshire even asked me if he could have his picture taken next to it, I did better than that and let him sit in the thing which made his day.
My girlfriend seemed concerned the Ferrari would grind out on the ramp but I didn't think it was an issue. Until I saw an MGB's exhaust rub the deck, but anyhow she was right, as always. This thing is low but as slow as I took it, I heard no sounds of opening up the floor like a free P&O tin opener.
France is where it's at for driving, vast open roads, tree lined avenues, and stunning scenery - well once you're out of the English tackiness that is Calais anyway. I keep an eye on my speedo, as it climbs with no thought and in no time at all. Throwing my way up the gears to maintain a steady cruising speed. I'm not running this car at stupid speeds, there's no point we're going to a race track and it's not good practice. More and more Police traps are being set up just to target British drivers and I'm not going to make things worse.
As much as I was enjoying heading straight to Le Mans in time for a blast and an evening Barbie, she spots a sign for Paris, her voice changes as her mind thinks shops, shoes and shops blah, blah. If I had a dictionary and thesaurus embodied in my brain I still wouldn't have found the words nor had the chance to talk my way out of finding another 198 reasons why we should not go to Paris right now. But my hands moved the leather clad computer wheel towards the capital and before I knew it we were heading down the A16 with a very smug passenger.
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