Thread: Ferrari 599 GTB

A colossal wall of noise that marks your arrival into hallowed territory. piercing, resonating wail that ricochets off old brick walls, a noise that contrasts violently with the serene hush of Italian countryside. From Modena station to Ferrari's Maranello base, the road rolls through typically Italian countryside beautiful, undulating and relaxed. Past the little villages where life goes by with barely a nod to the pace of modern day life; Italians hang around in cafes sipping whatever they sip. Even the cabbie has his elbow out the window, effort lessly cool in his Ray Bans. You wonder how anything gets done in Italy, everybody is so busy knocking their hair back and looking good and paying special attention to the bevy of scrumptious belles that, well, nothing seemingly gets done.

Then, as we pass under those famous gates and into Ferrari's factory, a deep angry rumble shatters the silence. A black Maserati Gran Turismo rumbles past the main gates. A minute later a silver car gaffer taped all over shrieks past. A Ferrari prototype, I'm guessing. Then another red car howls by, definitely a Ferrari that one. Every time the traffic lights turn green (and the lights are there just for Ferrari!) the silence is shattered by something going rather quick. It's almost like a non stop parade outside those hallowed gates and inside, everything, from the brick walls to the murals to the outfits is a sea of red. You'd think Ferrari Formula 1 mechanics, dressed from head to toe, induding their belts, shoes, socks, presumably even their chaddis and hankies, in red are a bit too, well, red. Here, at Ferrari HQ, everybody dresses the same way the pretty girl at the reception, the busy mechanics strolling past, some important looking dude who keeps saying ciao ciao to all the girls - they're all in red. And my car isn't red.

Ironic isn't it. Here I am at supercar Mecca, being virtually assaulted by a sea of red and my Ferrari test car is silver. It's a bit like fixing a date with Goldie Hawn but settling for her daughter Kate Hudson. Equally ravishing, younger and more virile too, but your childhood memories overflow with images of Goldie's skirt billowing up to reveal rather shapely legs, not Kate prancing around in an itsy bitsy number. You want your Ferrari to be red but, much in the same why you'll gladly settle for a romp with Kate, I grab the keys to my silver 599 Gran Turismo Berlinetta Fiorano and follow Davide Kluzer, Ferrari's PR man and my new best friend, to the press car park. What a machine! Seriously, what a machine! Sitting there, all on its own, sunlight glinting off its sensuous curves, long, wide and very low, it's plain sex on toast.

Heck, this car would probably look erotic even if it were unpainted; what am I cribbing about it not being red. Gorgeous Pininfarina lines clothe the classic V12, front engine, reqr-drive, two-passenger Berlinetta layout conse crated by Ferrari over six decades ago, a tradition carried on most recently by the 575M and the 612 Scaglietti. There's an obvious visual connect with the 612, but unlike the four-seater, the lines of the 599 are better resolved, are more in keeping with everybody's mental image of a Ferrari sweating sex. The automotive equivalent of Sophia Loren clingingly attired in a revealing black Versace firing up your primordial reflex to voluptuous curves and shapely hips. Makes you want, crave it so bad it almost hurts. And I have it for the day the Ferrari that is.

Davide shows me around the car, much the same way as he took me around the 612 Scaglietti when they were on their magic India discovery. Except in India he was on nails; here he's chilled out in the extreme, probably in keeping with strict national guidelines on 'being Italian'. "You know the Manettino." I nod. "She's a beautiful car." I nod so enthusiastically my neck almost snaps. And with that he waves a cheery ciao, "enjoy yourself" and is off.



That's it? No elaborate briefing, no minder, no strict dos and don'ts. Not even coffee in a bright red mug? I pinch myself to check I'm not dreaming and step into the gorgeous cabin, swathed in beautiful hand-stitched leather, back filled with custom made hand stitched luggage, insert the bright red key into the ignition and thumb the bright red engine start button on the steering wheel. Except in a Ferrari you don't thumb the starter, rather you hold on the starter till the engine fires up, a process that feels so much more connected than other start¬stop buttons; so full of life, so racecar-ish.

And, as the engine explodes into life, it shatters the silence. It's the noise we started off with. A feral howl that, were this not Ferrari's home tow'n, would have news channels scrambling to investigate. The explosive start-up start settles into a busy, loud, rasp, like a race engine being warmed up that comes from the unequal firing intervals of the 65-degreee Vee-angle. Blip the throttle and the rasp turns into a ferocious howl; two-stage exhausts, where a valve in the exhaust opens at high revs to reveal a raw, almost straight-pipe exhaust note, shatters my eardrums. My heart races, palms start sweating, and I pull out of Ferrari's gates.

Now Ferraris, as you'd already know, are tested, tested and tested at Fiorano, Ferrari's private test track at Maranello. But today is a Corse Clienti day where some of Ferrari's most valued customers have a go at the race track so our plan of testing the GTB at the track is out. But I'm also told that as important track testing is, all new Ferraris are extensively tested on the road, and the route I've been given a road book to is what Ferrari calls 'the V12 test route'. It's where every V12-engined Ferrari is tested and signed off and it's where no Ferrari gets bothered by cop¬pers. Safe in the knowledge I boot it as I exit the gates and immediately trip a speed camera at maybe five times the limit, Shit.

Slowly trundle through Maranello town, miss the first turn and carry straight on. In these days of sat-nav, I've forgotten how to use a road book! Nevertheless it gives me an opportunity to pull over, calm my racing heart and have a look under the bonnet. Staring back is a V12 heart derived directly from the Enzo supercar, 5999cc (hence the name), 48 valves, a mountainous 620PS of power developed at 7600rpm Uust 39 down on the Enzo) and 608Nm of torque (with 90 per cent available from 3500 to 8200rpm).

It's the world's most powerful V12-engined car (tht' Enzo was a limited run specia I), has the highest specific output of any naturally aspirated engine of this capacity and has the highest rev limit of any engine of this kind. At 8400rpm the sound this engine makes, with the optional sports exhaust, could wake the dead. The sound is no fluke - engineers worked on a 'design to sound' approach focusing on the third and sixth harmonics (for a robust tone and pleasant timbre respectively), apparently the characteristic components of a 12-cylinder engine, and also routed the intake sound into the cabin.