Sir Les Patterson trying to consume an
oyster, its dirty slurp of turbocharged
hot-vee settling to an agreeably muscular
thrum. Then there’s the Ferrari. After
the 2800rpm flare of revs on startup, it
settles to a disappointingly well-mannered
1000rpm hum. We need to discover the 488’s
other personality, so we settle on a road
that peters out into farm tracks and dry
paddocks, trace it back to where it climbs
a scarp slope, flick the wheel-mounted
manettino to ‘Race’ and turn up the wick.
Forget the 458. Really. Yes, the old car
sounded better in the last 2000rpm or so,
but the 488 is just so much quicker and
more capable that it has its predecessor
well covered, even in Speciale guise. From
4000rpm, you hear this demented hissing
as air is pulverised through intakes to feed
those gluttonous turbochargers and from
that point on, your right foot feels as if it
has the power to kick the car along the
road as if it’s hardwired to your synapses.
Turbo lag is imperceptible; you just
perceive this monstrous muscularity. It’s
one heck of a powerplant. You might well
find yourself trying to wring a top note
out of it that just doesn’t exist, prompting
a shimmying interjection from the rev
limiter, but if that’s the price of progress,
call me a convert.
It’s accessible in a way that you wouldn’t
expect from a car that’s nearly two seconds
quicker around Fiorano than an Enzo and
which would leave an F40 almost seven
seconds in arrears. The hydraulically
assisted steering is quick at 1.9 turns lock-
to-lock, but it never feels neurotic or darty;
just endowing the 488 with otherworldly
agility. The stability control system is one of
the best I’ve ever used and can play clever
with oversteer with its Side Slip Control
software. Likewise, because visibility is so
good and the ceramic brakes so reassuring,
it’s a car you gel with rapidly. The Spider
shares its adaptive dampers and steering
rack with the old 458 Speciale but never
feels harsh.
Drive hard over pockmarked surfaces
and you will notice chassis flex, however.
In Bumpy Road mode, I first wondered
whether that was just a pattering front
end, but firm things up and it’s clear that
there’s some scuttle flex and a fizzingthrough the wheel rim that’s not quite
full-blown rack rattle but speaks of a slight
shortage of torsional rigidity. It’s nothing
that spoils the party, but compared to a
carbon-tubbed car like a McLaren 650S
it’s a minor demerit point.
That’s not an accusation you can level
at the Mercedes-AMG GT. It feels about
as flexible as Margaret Court’s opinion
on same-sex marriage. After the Ferrari
it also feels a bit of a boat, but switch it
into Sport+ and it gets its game face on.
That impression of wallow you had from
always being in too high a gear disappears
and the talent in the chassis is revealed.
It’s the only one of the trio that you rarely
drive by ear or, as a result, by paddle, but
the transmission logic proves more than
sharp enough. The steering, which feels
disappointingly light at low speeds, offers
enough heft to let you know what’s going
on at that distant front contact patch and
the harder you drive the GT, the more
you’ll admire its dynamic cohesion. It has
its shortcomings, though. The pill-box-
slot view out of the front windscreen is
a limiter on fast undulating roads where