Ferrari 458 Speciale

Associate editor Newman tumbles out of the Speciale looking like he’s just won lotto and got Scarlett Johansson’s phone number in the last 15 minutes. He says nothing, just laughs.“It’s the best car I’ve ever driven,” he finally stutters. I know, I say I was similarly speechless and fawning not 30 minutes earlier.

Dare dispute it, but for nearly 70 years Ferrari has made the world’s best naturally aspirated engines. Only recently, as emission regulations tighten, Ferrari has reluctantly turned back to turbos. Last year an anonymous Ferrari executive confessed to US mag Car and Driver, “we don’t like the turbo. But it’s the right way to reduce emissions without sacrificing performance.”

When the California T arrived last year it had been 27 years since the last turbo Ferrari. This year, Ferrari will insert turbos between the 458’s airboxes and throttle bodies, quietly ending a dynasty of small, NA mid-engine sports cars spanning back to the 1970s and making the naturally-aspirated Speciale the last of its breed. It’s why it’s here.

Looking like a bright yellow shoe, the Speciale is low and heavy to the earth; like it’s just driven off some kid’s wall.

You tumble into the thinly-padded seat, the low roof having contorted you into a hunch. Inky carbonfibre is everywhere, interrupted by yellow stitching and Alcantara. Underfoot, the floor is naked metal. It all helps save 90kg over the regular 458, weight now 1320kg.

Visibility is generous through the big windscreen and you can’t help but laugh excitedly as you spot the giant yellow tacho with a “10” on it.

Having thumbed the Speciale’s steering wheel starter button, a rev solicits an angry blip like there’s no flywheel. The noise is rich, distinctive and angry. And loud. Very loud.

First arrives with a pull of the ‘up’ paddle, electric handbrake off, the automatic clutch engages with a jerk. Assuming the Speciale is warm, the bitumen dry, the road empty and, err, closed boot it.

2000rpm, full throttle. The kick is instant none of this waiting around for turbos to spool up. As the 4.5-litre V8 summons its 445kW, the rear 305-section Pilot Super Sport Cups wriggle in wheelspin, but are neatly contained by the traction control. Torque is impressive this low in the revs.

4000rpm. Throttle against metal, traction increasing, thrust now fairly serious, your back compressed against those thinly padded seats, eyes drinking up a lot of road.

6000rpm. The noise: a high-tempo, rich roar growing in volume, pitch and anger. The Speciale squats harder. You’re at peak torque now, 540Nm.

7500rpm. Engine roaring, vibration not insignificant, acceleration simply brutal. Brain squealing to pluck ‘up’ paddle.8500rpm. Feels like the thing is going to explode.

9000rpm. LEDs atop the steering wheel beckon you to pull the tall, thin, carbon paddle. There’s so much volume, pitch and intensity. All at once, you wince at the revs, yet at the same time it feels like it could wind on another 1000rpm. It’s at 9000rpm the Speciale is cranking its full 445kW and feels unbelievably alive.

At this point your eyes are as big as an owl’s and your heart feels like it’s doing 200bpm. Pluck second without lifting. And repeat. With launch control, you’ve hit 100km/h in a claimed 3.0 seconds, 200km/h takes 9.1 seconds and, Ferrari claims, reaching the quarter takes just 10.7 seconds.

If there’s one thing we’ll miss about naturally-aspirated engines, it’s the intensity at redline. The 458 Speciale uses a flat-plane crank V8, 4497cc and Ferrari’s most powerful NA V8. Also, for specific output, it’s the most powerful NA engine ever made.

Its 99kW/litre eclipses, for comparison’s sake, the 991 911 GT3’s 92kW/litre. And with 350kW from 3.8 litres, that thing’s not messing about. So it’s worth pausing to appreciate the Speciale’s 445kW from 4.5 litres, without a blower or turbo in sight.

A 14:1 compression ratio and 9000rpm redline sure helps. Over the 458 the Speciale scores more aggro cams, revised pistons and conrods, optimised crank geometry and a new, carbonfibre intake system (which alone helps shave 8kg).Of course, Ferrari’s engineers didn’t knock off when they’d finished with the Speciale’s engine.

The Speciale is so easy and friendly to drive fast and lord is it fast. When driven hard, other performance cars can take an eternity to reveal their frequency, into which, as a driver, you tune, all the while your confidence withers. Others, at eight tenths, fall apart around their dynamic edges. But it’s at this point the Speciale is only getting started.

You don’t sit in the Speciale so much as splice your brain into its wiring loom there’s so much feedback coming to you, through the seat, the wheel, the pedals.

A super-fast steering rack, which initially takes some getting used to, means you never have to move your hands from nine and three. Despite feeling hyper alert, the Speciale is unbothered by aggressive steering inputs, sitting flat and unfussed. The feel is only just sufficient to notice a loaded-up, front 245-section Michelin grinding over bitumen, but the weighting is spot on.

The brake pedal is almighty, clamping six-pot front and rear calipers into 398mm front carbon discs, 360mm rear.

The pedal feels sensitive to the tiniest of pressure differences. And, of course, with unbelievable stopping power, a big stop in the Speciale is hugely satisfying and not at all frightening, such is its stability.

At high speed, big bumps merely rock the Speciale gently from side to side, while smaller, high-tempo bumps are worked impressively. The suspension performance is incredible.

In fact, the Speciale can produce 1.33 cornering g. The Enzo could manage 1.1g, which makes sense, given the Speciale is an incredible 1.4 seconds faster than an Enzo around Fiorano.

The seven-speed dual clutch transmission, too, is crisp, alert and alive. Down changes are swift, accompanied by an angry, loud, crisp throttle blip.

After a big stop, you can tip the Speciale in with only small steering input, given that crazy-fast rack you’re free to attack apex with incredible entry speed thanks to those sticky Michelins. Stability on corner entry is excellent.

On corner exit the Speciale wants to dance. There’s incredible traction from the rear 305s but squeeze the gas a little harder and the Speciale’s bum will gently step, rather than snap, sideways, inviting more throttle, and more angle. It’ll have you cackling like a kid on red cordial.

Thanks to a hyper alert, sensitive throttle (still foreign to turbo cars) there’s a friendly, predictable relationship between throttle input and slide angle.

At least, so it seems: if you’ve got the manettino in “CT OFF” the Speciale is helping make you look like a hero.

Welcome to something called Slide Slip Control, an ECU program that senses available grip, quietly takes over the throttle and locks and unlocks the diff to maintain a slide based on your steering input. You will feel like a drifting god but, sadly, it’s the car. It might be cheating but a grin is a grin.

It’s just one of the ways the Speciale flatters you. It has huge grip yet it’ll encourage you up to the limits, where the grip falls off a slope, not a cliff, doing good things for your bravado. But, as ever, the seamless electronics are there to catch you if you that corner tightens.

Unfortunately, though it sounds it, the Speciale isn’t perfect. For some, the exhaust is just a blare of noise rather than music. On our good ol’ Aussie coarse chip bitumen, there’s road noise like you’re in a jumbo at cruising altitude. The ride can let in a few too many bumps. And you might finally go nuts if you had to drive it long distance.

They’re fair criticisms to level against a $550,000 car. But then again, after 30 minutes in the Speciale, you won’t notice, nor care. The Speciale is as close to driving perfection I’ve ever come and will surely be remembered as one of Maranello’s greatest road cars.