It’s worth it. Wind it up -- and you’ll always want to wind it up -- and a hot roar of dragon breath blasts the hairs on your neck. The caterwaul from the 4.5-liter V-8 may be one of the best things created by man, ever.
I spend one evening suffering through West Hollywood traffic (where the Spider is studiously ignored in the same way that New Yorkers pretend not to recognize celebrities) before regaining my senses and heading back out to desolate mountain roads.
A Porsche-driving buddy and I spend the day chasing each other up and down the roads. He eventually gets out of his 911 and into the Ferrari, and I watch his mouth make an expressive “O” the first time I punch the gas. “That’s seriously fast,” he allows.
“That’s a Ferrari,” I reply. And so the day goes, the sun baking our faces and engine noise blasting our ears as the ocean glitters on the horizon. I’m in California heaven.
Left, the wide and low convertible is based on the 458 Italia coupe.