Ferrari F8 Spider

AS YOU APPROACH THE LOW SLITHER OF Giallo Modena your eye is drawn to the sharp edges, deep creases and gaping aerodynamic apertures. The more discreet S-duct opening in the leading edge of the front bonnet creates a darker shadow across the nose of Ferrari’s latest offering, too. Then the deeply scalloped sides, with their elephant hoof-sized openings atop the rear arches, draw in your eye as you check for any small mammals that may have taken up residence the previous evening. You glance at the door handle, question why it looks like an afterthought, but give it no further consideration. The door swings open. Light, no resistance, providing the gateway to the most important seat in any new Ferrari: the driver’s.

There’s still some idiosyncratic Italian ergonomics going on once you’re parked inside. There’s too much of your legs on show, not as much cocooning as you’re perhaps expecting. But you’re low in the tub, legs outstretched, arms kinked in all the right places when your hands reach the wheel. Doubt I’ll ever be convinced by steering wheels with highly polished carbonfibre inserts; it’s all a bit ‘trying too hard’ for me. But it feels good to grip, thick but not BMW M thick, your palms resting on the leather, your fingers wrapped around it and your thumbs at ease on the edges. Thumb the start button. A whirr. A bark. A crack