It’s quite difficult to describe the feeling when someone you’ve known a couple of hours chucks you the keys to his Ferrari. This feeling is of course heightened when you’re an absolute unashamed car pervert. Aaron, a friend of this blogs co-owner, had known there was a car freak in attendance and kindly brought along his manual, Nero black Ferrari F430 to lunch for me to have a poke around. Naturally I thought this or, perhaps if I was really lucky, a passenger seat ride would be the order of the day. I’ve got to say; I thought he was joking to begin with but my disbelief turned into ‘this is literally the best Sunday ever’ when I realised that Aaron, was actually seriously handing me the keys. “Of course you can drive it”, he said.
The thing is though, as the experience actually becomes real – probably about when I slid myself into the drivers seat holding the red Ferrari key, and despite some previous experience driving fast cars (although nothing you would class as truly exotic), your excitement is tainted by the very real fear of messing up. Looking behind you at the three quarter view does nothing to ease this concern as all you can see is a big red engine and I needed to do a three point turn on an often scooter filled Chelsea side street to get us back facing the main road.
The only way I can describe this mix of jelly legged excitement with sweaty palmed fear is to say this: Ever since the Ferrari F430 came out and I drooled over the press shots, I have known that you start them with a big red Engine start button on the steering wheel. In fact, I used to play through the starting procedure in my mind so I would know what to do if this opportunity ever presented itself. Except, in my current state I was left wondering why the engine wouldn’t fire when I turned the key. My remarkably calm passenger pointed out my mistake and I pushed the starter button. I can’t remember what it’s called when you try and use letters to describe a noise right now but here goes: Waaaaoohhhhhhhhhh. I’ve heard these cars start up before but it somehow feels louder when you’re the one doing it. By this point, my other mate who I can see in the rear view mirror is giggling uncontrollably.
Right, let’s not balls this up. Clutch in, select first gear. Good. The clutch is lighter than I expected and it’s easy to feed in exactly the amount of throttle you want. A three point turn later and we’re pottering back up to the New Kings road with that stunning engine barely working above tick over. We have a junction to negotiate but this also goes smoothly. Passing the petrol station where yet another group of friends are looking on also with big grins and I open the throttle by about a centimetre. Immediately, the engine note picks up and there is a small surge that gives a little taster of what’s to come.
We’re heading towards Parsons Green now and I’m quickly becoming more comfortable in the car. It’s a sunny Sunday in London and there are lots of people wondering past the parks and commons which this road borders. I think they must know from my grin that its my first go in one of these because all their faces seem to mirror my excitement. I’ve short shifted into third by this point and an approaching set of traffic lights prompts my first down shift which I cock up. “Sorry”, I say instinctively. “Don’t worry, you’ve got to be quite firm with it”, says the car’s owner. Lesson learnt.
Before I know it, we’re across Putney Bridge and waiting at the traffic lights to turn left up towards Wandsworth. The car is now getting some serious attention as waves of people cross the road in front of us. I’ve got to say that at the age of 25 this feels ridiculously cool. As cliché as it sounds, you really do feel like a celebrity, with girls giving you much more attention than they did in the nightclub the evening before. “If you see one you like let me know and I’ll jump out”, says Aaron. I don’t think he’s joking.
Exiting these lights now provides the first real opportunity to give the throttle a proper sustained prod. ‘Fuck, fuck me that’s fast’. 5000rpm in second gear has just made my 265bhp 130i feel and sound like one of those low powered arrive and drive go-karts. The noise hits you first and is intoxicating in the way it reverberates off these narrow concrete corridors. At 3500rpm you begin to feel pinned to your seat and suddenly the buildings which looked relatively static a second ago are now disappearing past at an alarming rate.
A couple of minutes later we arrive first in the queue at the Wandsworth bridge traffic lights and I know this is my opportunity to give it the full beans up onto the bridge. I feel the same anticipation as I do at the start of a kart race waiting for the lights to go out. The moment they turn green we’re off. I short shift into second gear at about 4500 rpm and then give it absolutely everything. The car catapults forward and at about 5500rpm all hell breaks lose. Being in control of the throttle as the rev limiter swings round from this point until 8500rpm accompanied by the manic noise and seemingly never ending acceleration is my greatest motoring experienced thus far. At this point I chicken out of a gear change into third fearing a couple more seconds of full throttle could get me into serious trouble.
We arrive back to the pub with me a dribbling, babbling, giggling mess and I struggle to describe the experience of driving a Ferrari to my gathered array of mates but I think I explained it something along the lines of the below.
I have driven AMG Mercedes with more power than this car but I have always believed that truly rapid acceleration can have its own specific feeling that’s dependant on the type of car you’re in. This drive has confirmed this. This F430 felt almost completely weightless in its acceleration to the point that I could not palpably feel any inertia and this goes for the car itself and the powertrain. This seeming lack of mass in the powertrain is what makes these naturally aspirated Ferrari engines so incredibly special. Whilst the brutal acceleration in a bi-turbo CLS 63 is impressive, the whole driving experience doesn’t even begin to touch that of the Ferrari. It truly felt 3 or 4 cuts above.
What’s more encouraging is that in an age where everyone wants the latest and the best, this Ferrari F430, a now 10 year old car, provided an experience every bit as good as I had imagined it as a teenager. I have no doubt that this feeling of complete involvement was enhanced by the gear stick and open metal gate planted between the driver and passenger seats. It was so good that I was awake until 3am on Sunday night reliving, enjoying and planning how I could make enough money to get one of these myself. With that said, what was almost even more special than driving the car was the feeling of being trusted to do so my an incredibly generous bloke who clearly takes as much pleasure from others enjoying his car as he does from driving it himself. Aaron confirmed this when I was thanking him for the experience. “That’s what these cars are all about.”
Since this experience Aaron has traded in the 430 for a 458 Spider. “We’ll have to get you in that soon for a comparison”, he said. Report on that to follow. I. Cannot. Wait.
Cog Lfe 