When our January 1990 cover asked readers, “Is this car an original?” without a doubt, few who correctly responded in the negative could elaborate on their answers.
Luigi Chinetti Sr. did not consider his trio of victories at Le Mans his most significant professional achievement.
You don’t have to be a brain surgeon to recognize the racing merits of Ferrari’s stripped-down Challenge Stradale. You just have to drive the car.
This decade may well be indexed in automotive history as the era of big brutes hidden within the shells of sleek and sexy coupes.
Jim Bolton knows every inch of unused space in a Ferrari.
When Luca Di Montezemolo took the reins at Ferrari in 1992, he declared an end to the marque’s tradition of building the world’s fastest hair shirts.
When all personal preferences have been considered, and all Asian poseurs and American pretenders have been set aside, enthusiasts are left with just two pure and uncompromised sports cars to pond
A fine car has finite characteristics: a powerful engine, striking lines, an inviting interior.
There is no mystery to the mystique of Ferrari.
Ferrari enthusiasts may soon understand what Formula One champion Michael Schumacher experiences as he rips down the straightaway at Indianapolis or slices through Monaco’s turns.
Just before the engine turns over, I like to close my eyes, blocking out any distractions so that I can fully absorb the sound and feel of the mechanical energy that follows.