First Drive Review
The sun lay warm on our faces as writer and photographer sat in a hillside meadow with a hawk's view of Italy's Apennine peaks where a glorious spring afternoon was nestling in with the fragrance of wild rosemary, the buzz of bumblebees, and the tick-ticking of a new Ferrari's exhaust pipes.
We fought back the urge to vomit.
You can stroll from the Ferrari factory in Maranello, Italy, to Ferrari's test track in nearby Fiorano in about 20 minutes, but several light-years separate the outgoing 575 Maranello from the incoming 599GTB Fiorano. The old front-engine V-12 two-seater launched in 1996 as the 550 and updated in 2002 as the 575 was definitely gran turismo, meaning heavy — it will probably be the last Ferrari ever built from steel — and slightly soft in the springs.
The all-aluminum 599, due in the U.S. by Halloween, is about as soft as cold tungsten. Amedeo Felisa, Ferrari's vice general manager, says the company wanted to nudge the model away from the sybaritic GT class with its big-as-a-bus 612 Scaglietti and into the performance category as senior officer to the enthralling F430. For those who can step up to the 599's expected base price of $250,000 with a six-speed manual or $260,000 with the F1 semiautomatic gearbox, the 599 is "the ultimate car in this sports category," says Felisa.
Not that you'd know it by sinking into the 599's interior swaddled in French-stitched leather and glossy carbon fiber. Adjustments to the deep buckets and tilting and telescoping steering wheel are performed electrically, as in a Mercedes. Legs have room to stretch, knees plenty of space to sprawl, thanks to the aft-mounted transmission. There's even a basic navigation system.
As with the rest of Ferrari's catalog, the 599 is a mix of aluminum extrusions, flat panels, stampings, and sand-core castings welded and riveted up by the Scaglietti body shop. Ferrari puts the 599's curb weight a few degrees north of 3700 pounds, or more than 300 pounds under our last 575 test vehicle. Compared with the enormous 612, the 599's wheelbase is shorter by 7.8 inches, the body length by 9.3 inches.
Whereas the 575 looked to the original 250GTO for styling inspiration, the 599's designers at Pininfarina pinned up pictures of the angular Daytona (1968-74) while drawing the Fiorano's wedge of bat-wing fenders and proliferating air ducts (11 in total). The most bravura elements are the flying buttresses that arc down from the roof above the rear wheels to funnel air toward the deck spoiler, contributing to the 350 pounds of aerodynamic downforce at 186 mph.
Finger the red start button, and the V-12 first barks, then hums politely. Cruising west up the autostrada past Parma, we strain to hear it over the rumble of the fat Pirelli tires. The 599 receives a 611-hp version of the 65-degree V-12 found in the Enzo supercar. The 5999cc pipe organ is dry sump, allowing the lengthy crankshaft to ride 2.5 inches lower than in the 575, and that helps push down the hoodline and center of gravity. Timing chains instead of belts make the package shorter (and cheaper to service), and the engine is stiffer and 42 pounds lighter than the old V-12, says proud Ferrari powertrain director Jean-Jacques His.
Much work was done to hush the white noise made by belts, cam chains, and accessories so that the reason so many will pay so much for a V-12 Ferrari, that melodious roar, comes through clearer. But you have to push the pedal deep to crack open the exhaust flaps before the cabin finally throbs with those 12 perfectly balanced combustion pulses amplified through a bramble of exquisitely wrought pipes.
We got addicted to the sound and the thick torque band as we headed up the 3500-foot Passo della Cisa, a squiggly ribbon traversing Italy's mountainous spine from the Po Plain down to the Italian Riviera. American ingenuity hitches a ride with Ferrari's use of magnetorheological shock absorbers patented by GM's affiliate supplier Delphi. First adopted by Cadillac in 2002 and a $1695 option on the '06 Corvette, the system employs shock oil filled with tiny metal spheres that, when exposed to an electromagnet, instantaneously change its viscosity. Constantly varying the amps keeps the damping and rebound rates matched to fast-changing road conditions.
Ferrari's tune is firm. Roll, dive, and squat in the 599 are all but expunged, the body motion over rough surfaces pared down to quick jerks. It's not harsh, just very sporting. Combined with laser-scope steering and snappy brakes (we had the optional carbon-ceramic discs, expected to cost about the same as the F430's, or $16,000), the 599 is a highly tensioned speed generator. In fact, the new V-12 promises to drop 0-to-60 times to below four seconds, thanks also to faster shifts from the F1 transmission. Ferrari times the upshifts in as little as 100 milliseconds with new software it calls "F1-Superfast." Precious milliseconds are shaved by moving the shift rail before the clutch is fully disengaged. The overlap is used only under hard acceleration; in auto mode, light-throttle shifts are kept as fuzzy as possible for comfort.
A small monument about halfway up the pass recalls a young, fully tufted Enzo Ferrari finishing fourth in a 1919 hill-climb here. It is this exact spot, where the monument sits at the end of a rock wall, that photographer Valente decides to set up a cornering shot. We run a few passes for the camera, the 599's electronic stability control dutifully keeping the rear end behind the front. On the third try, Valente asks, "Can you get the tail out a bit more?"
If one could reach back through the veil of time and change the past, it would be at this point that my hand would be prevented from reaching down to the manettino, the steering-wheel switch governing the stability control, and shutting it off. Coming back up, I flick the steering wheel to unload the inside rear tire and goose the throttle, the car whipsawing in a screech of rubber. First one way...
...and then the other. The last milliseconds before impact are busy with desperate corrections, but the 599 swipes the wall with a nauseating crunch. Valente's face is blanched as I clump to a stop, the world suddenly deathly silent.
We head back to the factory, tails tucked meekly between hindquarters. Ferrari has a thoroughly modern, thoroughly exhilarating new gran turismo berlinetta with slot-car handling, 611 lyric horses refined enough to invite for tea, abundant comforts for all body types, and styling that is crackling with some serious libido. While contemplating all this and the now dented fenders, Valente leans over and says, "Actually, I pretty much had the shot on the second run."
