Maranello, Italy --A man named Roberto drives me in a Lancia Voyager minivan to a deserted parking lot at the bottom of a hill-climb that leads to the village of Samone. After waiting a few minutes, we hear the shriek of a high-revving V-12 engine before we see the car it's powering: a red-and-black LaFerrari pulls up, the winged driver's door rises, and an Italian journalist climbs out. It's now my turn to drive the most anticipated Ferrari since the 2002 Enzo. No explanations, no admonitions. Just get in and go, Joe.
On the road: The ultimate sensory experience
Twist the red key, push the red start button, and the 6.3-liter V-12 instantly ignites. Foot on brake, pull the right-side carbon-fiber shift paddle, foot on gas, and we're off. It's raining, so I dial in wet mode, the most forgiving of the manettino switch's driver settings. This road is a tight, bumpy, badly paved series of switchbacks, sluiced with gravel runoff. There's no sound insulation, so I hear, always, the intoxicating rrrrappp of the V-12, the road debris hitting the underside of the car, the clicking of the shift paddles, the brake calipers on ceramic composite rotors, the rubber on the road. LaFerrari is the ultimate sensory experience.
The steering wheel, flat on both top and bottom, is small and transmits lots of information about the road. The familiar red start button is on the bottom left of the wheel, and the manettino switch used to select driving modes is on the bottom right. The steering is light in effort but precise. The front Pirellis are still cold and are crabbing in corners. When I dial in sport mode, the upshifts are a little quicker and the rear end of the car is a little more lively. The rears warm up, and it's easy to oversteer. I'm hesitant to select race mode in these wet conditions. I last drove on this road in November 2009 in the then-new Ferrari 458 Italia, and I remember marveling at that car's ability to pivot effortlessly into corners, but it's pretty clear that LaFerrari takes that ability to a new level. If only the road were dry.
The sideview mirrors on carbon-fiber struts, a foot long, are equally cool-looking and practical. Speaking of practical, these Brembo brakes. On the short straights, I downshift, mash the accelerator, and hold on tight as the 345/30R-20 P Zeroes try to transmit a level of power and torque to the ground that is almost comical in these adverse conditions. The rear end of the car is having little of it. Damn this weather.
If you must go slow, take some time to appreciate your surroundings
Resigned to the conditions, I take a longer look at the cabin. It's pretty austere, but the four round vents are nice to look at, and everything is obviously high-quality. Virtually everything you see and touch is polished carbon fiber accented with black Alcantara. Thin rubber floor mats provide a bit of traction for your feet, there's a slim map pocket near the passenger's kneecaps, and there's a little rectangular tray for your phone, because if there's one thing Italians will make room for, it's a phone. The door panels are widely scooped out, making for plenty of outboard elbow room, and you're also unlikely to rub elbows much with your passenger. In the center console, a carbon-fiber protrusion that looks like a grab handle has buttons to choose reverse gear, auto mode for the transmission, and launch control.
I abandon the hill-climb and head back to Maranello on meandering two-lane roads, following Roberto in the minivan. I have to say, he really knows how to drive that Voyager. Now there's more spray from the rain, and the big single wiper sweeps efficiently over the huge windshield. The car isn't quiet by any means, but I can carry on a conversation with my passenger. I glance up at the rear-view mirror and see the top of the engine cover, framed by the very sharply angled window, and just a little bit of the road behind. The rear-view camera image in the driver's instrument cluster is crisp and clear. The A-pillars are close and not particularly tall, so the forward visibility is quite good. I can't see the front corners of the car, but I have a very good sense of it.
Time to try automatic mode for the seven-speed dual-clutch gearbox. It's flat-out wonderful and utterly benign; your mother could drive this car in automatic mode while sipping an espresso. Lovely throttle blipping on the automatic downshifts when you brake. It's so easy to thread this car through roundabouts and villages.
We arrive at Pista di Fiorano. You think we had any problem getting the gates to open for us in our LaFerrari? Back in Roberto's minivan for a ride to lunch at Il Cavallino, the famous restaurant adjacent to the Ferrari campus. The engineering team, who gave us a technical briefing last night, is there to finish telling the story of the development of LaFerrari, Ferrari's first-ever hybrid automobile.





