Can I drive a Ferrari Please?

“Can I drive one? Please, please, please?”
 
That was me begging Amedeo Felisa, Ferrari’s general manager, for a ride in a Ferrari. I had just interviewed the man at Ferrari’s factory site in Maranello, Italy, for the story that appeared in Monday’s Globe and Mail. At the end of the interview, he asked me is there was anything more I needed and I blurted out my request like a kid begging for ice cream on a hot day.
 
Sure, he said; Ferraris are easy to drive.
 
I am 6-foot-5. Will I fit? Yes, he assured me with a smile.
 
Off we went to the Ferrari’s 3-km racetrack next to the factory. It was built by founder Enzo Ferrari in the early 1970s and the office he used is still there. Ferrari uses the track to test its Forumla 1 and street-legal GT cars. At the time, French motoring journalists were using it to test the hot, new  F430 Scuderia. Place your order today and you’d be lucky to get delivery in two years.
 
My turn would come up, they assured me. I got a slightly queasy feeling in my stomach. These are $300,000-plus cars and they go really, really fast. If I went too slow, I’d get laughed off the track. If I went too fast, I’d kill myself.
 
For gearhead readers, an F430 Scuderia is a normal F430, Ferrari’s best-seller, on a diet. The Scuderia is 100 kilos lighter and the rear-mounted engine, a 4.3-litre V8, puts out 510-horsepower, 20 more than the normal version. It has a top speed of 320 kms/hr and goes from standing start to 100kms/hr in 3.6 seconds compared to 4.0 seconds. To you and me, the difference is meaningless. To Ferrari fans, 0.4 seconds is an ice age. One Ferrari owner told me that 3.6 second represents the pinnacle of straight-line performance. Anything faster could make you “nauseous,” he said.
 
My first disappointment came when the Ferrari I was to drive rolled up. It was silver. As far as I’m concerned, Ferraris other than red should be outlawed. My second diappointment came when the track closed for siesta the moment I was to squeeze myself into the little cockpit. The track is surrounded by housing and Ferrari likes to give the long-suffering residents a respite from the engines’ famous snarl.
 
My heart sank. Raffaelo, one of Ferrari’s young test drivers (or “pilote” — pilots), came to the rescue. The closed track wasn’t a problem, he explained; we’d just use the city streets instead. But there was a catch. He would drive with me in the passenger seat. I happily agreed. I had had visions of losing control and mowing down schoolchildren.
 
The gate opened and we moved into the street. I naively assumed Raffaelo would navigate the city at a civilized speed before opening up the throttle. Wrong. He gunned it immediately and I wasn’t prepared. The engine, right behind my head, growled and the noise was almost defeaning, though thrilling. My head snapped back and my body was pushed into the seat. Suddenly, the urban landscape became a blur. We zipped around a traffice circle at about twice the speed limit. Raffaelo didn’t use the brakes. That’s when I realized Ferrari owners cherish cornering ability as much as raw speed.
 
Raffaelo found a long, narrow uphill road to take us out of town. The back end of a big truck was right in front of us. The Ferrari moved to the left and Raffaelo used the Formula 1-inspired paddle shifters to move to a lower gear (gear changes in a Ferrari take 60 milliseconds). A car was coming in the opposite direction. Surely, Raffaelo would pull back. Forget it. He punched the accelerator and we passed the truck as if it were standing still, missing the passing car by a safe distance. In a lesser car, we would have been crushed.
 
The car accelerated up the hill to about 140 kms/hr, well less than half its capabilitity. But I’d like to point out that we were still within the city at that point. In North America, we would have been tossed into prison for driving through a family neighbourhood at that speed. Maranello residents learn to look both ways before crossing the street.
 
I began to relax and enjoy myself as we headed out of town. I had every confidence Raffaelo was a pro and would not smack us into a wall. We blasted up hills and around corners like we were on a roller-coaster. Cars were passed effortlessly, sharp corners negotiated with finesse. I loved every second of it. Satisfied that he had impressed me, the car slowed down and purred back to the racktrack. I was beaming.
 
Ferraris are rich boys’ toys. If I were rich, I would buy three — all red.

Now you can drive a ferrari, and many other exotic and luxury vehicles at DFW Elite Auto Rental, or join the car share club with DFW Elite Car Club.