The scene at Cavallino, the famous restaurant across from the Ferrari factory gates, includes, on a recent night: the prime minister of Italy dining with Fiat boss Sergio Marchionne, and therefore Ferrari, as well as other assorted high-ranking company officials. Elsewhere in the restaurant, three astronauts sat down to dine together.
On the way from the airport, a taxi driver tells his passenger in broken English, "If you finish Ferrari, you finish Italy. No possible difference."
In a field in the Emilia Romagna region, near Bologna, workers attending to rows of grape vines look up from their work to see a red Ferrari drive past. They cheer and gesticulate. The driver of the red Ferrari revs the car's engine, sending the sharp shriek of Italian V-8 out across the valley. The workers applaud.
Ferrari is a national treasure in certain parts of Italy, a proud export. It's as if its cars are built in some small way by the labour of every Italian, even if only through their collective belief in the righteousness of the product. Ferrari is to Italians what maple syrup is to Canadians, only the pride is earnest.
Three new Ferrari 488 Spider convertibles – yellow, white, red – speed down the autostrada toward Sarsina. All traffic moves to the right to let them through. But then, around a bend, there's a blue and white liveried Alfa Romeo of the Polizia, the national police. The Ferraris slow down too late, and the drivers watch nervously in the rear view. But no sirens are heard, and so the speeding continues.
The 488 Spider replaces the 458 Spider as the latest in a long line of mid-engine open-top Ferraris dating back to the 1977 308 GTS. The 488, unlike its predecessor, is turbocharged.
For those who dream about driving a Ferrari, it is as you imagine, only more intense. It has the sharpest steering – you know this because Ferrari has measured it, explaining that the car reacts only 0.06 seconds after you turn the wheel – making its responses effectively instantaneous. No matter how fast you go, the car turns exactly where you point it.
You must recalibrate your arms, which are accustomed to twirling a steering wheel through several rotations. In the 488, you rarely turn the wheel more than 90 degrees past centre.
You can exploit the car's infinitely pointy front end to reach mind-blowing speed, covering ground like in a fever dream, on fast-forward, only thinking about braking, turning, accelerating, braking, turning … and on and on. It becomes easy.
Flick the manettino – a little dial on the steering wheel – to the "CT OFF" position and the rear tires smear across the pavement upon corner exit. It happens blindingly fast, but never feels unexpected.
It is in the acceleration phase where you feel the new turbochargers, the pair hung off either side of the 3.9-litre V-8. They push more air into the engine, greatly increasing torque and power, and – in theory – lowering emissions.
The first time you push the throttle you don't get it down to the floor. You must work up to full throttle – 661 horsepower – 670 cavalli vapore (CV) to the locals. The acceleration hits you in the diaphragm as you power out of another uphill hairpin.
Turbo lag is notable for its absence. This is because Ferraris turbochargers are the most exotic sort: twin-scroll, ball bearing, lightweight internals, tuned exhaust and something called an abradable seal. Power builds continuously from any revs. Measured against the old 458, torque is up 163 lb-ft to 561. There's so much torque, in fact, that in lower gears it's artificially restricted to make the engine more linear.
As the needle on the big central rev counter spins clockwise, the sound transforms from baritone to tenor to tornado. Above 3,200 rpm, something switches in the exhaust, and it doubles in volume. Then, above 6,000 rpm, with the top down, a whooshing, rushing intake noise dominates. Let off the throttle for a split-second and from the tailpipe comes a cacophony of little explosions that makes dogs bark as you drive through villages.
Two men hauling something from a white delivery van wave their arms to signal "faster, faster!" to the driver of the red 488.
Slowing to enter another town, the car fires out more little explosions. It upsets a child in a stroller, but the parents point at the car as if to say, "No, look, it's okay, it's a Ferrari!"
A car like this could easily feel intimidating, but it's not. Ferrari says the Spider is often purchased by people who will use it not just for weekend drives, but also to drive to social events. Spider owners tend not to drive their cars alone either, often having passengers and luggage along for the journey. Are Spider owners never lonely?
In the ancient town of San Leo, there is a fortress on top of a hill, visible for miles in all directions. The mayor, wearing his official sash, comes out to welcome Ferrari into this town; 488s fill the town square which, in turn, fills with locals.
Here, in the north of Italy, people are proud of what they produce. The balsamic vinegar from Modena comes lovingly packaged in a special bottle, with a seal of authenticity and a label guaranteeing its origin. It's the same with the Parmigiano-Reggiano, the extra virgin olive oil and Sangiovese wine. The message is clear: this is authentic, everything else is imitation.
To drive a Ferrari in Italy is to feel as though the whole country is behind you. From the prime minister to the mayor of San Leo; from the taxi drivers to the workers in the vineyards. Even more than the V-8, that is powerful.
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