Opinion: we all have another 'Ferrari', the one we loved as kids

I recently visited Kimera Automobili in Cuneo, northwest Italy. If you don’t know Kimera, then look up its spectacular EVO37 restomod inspired by the Lancia 037 Group B hero. In fact, the term ‘restomod’ doesn’t do the project justice. It sweeps up myth and legend and supercharges it (actually the EVO37 is supercharged and turbocharged) with a blend of engineering and artistry that is literally breathtaking.

Anyway, a phrase uttered by Kimera’s driving force, former rally driver Luca Betti, really stuck with me. “I am from Piedmont,” he began. “And even if people think that Emilia-Romagna is the motor land of Italy, really Torino is the heart of our industry.” By now I could see the pride and he spoke about his father’s love of the Martini Racing dynasty in the World Rally Championship. Then he said it. “For Piedmontese, our Ferrari was Lancia.”

I love that. Ferrari is everyone’s Ferrari, of course. It’s hard not to love its story, the F1 commitment, the Le Mans glory and, of course, the stunning road cars. Even the unstunning ones. But, I think most of us have another Ferrari. The one we loved as kids. Maybe it was handed down from a parent or enthusiastic uncle or sibling. More accessible. And it got me thinking. Who is my Ferrari?

These days it seems that everybody’s Ferrari is Porsche. Has it officially taken over the world yet? Or is it just Instagram? I love Porsche. Now. Now that I’ve driven them and understood the feel, the engineering and the very particular sort of German passion (not the sort involving whips, shackles and watersports). But as a kid I used to hate them. They were not my Ferrari. Not even close.

My instinct says BMW. Or Maserati. The former explained by a long line of BMWs owned by my dad, culminating in an E34 M5 in Avus Blue with silver leather. It was a later 3.8-litre car with throwing star alloys (if BMW is your Ferrari you can visualise these instantly) and had the Nürburgring electronically adjustable suspension by Boge (if BMW is your Ferrari you’re nodding along and probably thought ‘Boge’ before you even read it. Nobody ever says, thinks or has heard of Boge except in the context of the E34 M5. Fact). Maserati? A test drive through the New Forest in the back of a cream Ghibli in, I guess, 1993 sealed it for me. God, it felt so fast and exotic.

But, in reality my Ferrari is, um, Nissan. It feels a strange thing to say but you can’t fight something so deep in your soul. The kindling flames of the 200SX and 300ZX turned into a raging inferno when my dad – suddenly and inexplicably – decided to trade in the M5 for a Midnight Purple Nissan Skyline R33 GT-R V-Spec.

It had absurdly hard A’PEXi suspension, cool Japanese labels, a turbo timer (the engine stays running for two minutes after you switch off) and it was outrageous. The inside of the bootlid was covered in strange stickers in broken English from the Midnight Club and other seemingly clandestine organisations. It was love. Deep, joyous, irrational love. I read about ATTESA and Super HICAS and lap records at that place Boge tuned the M5 dampers. Nissan was a fever and, honestly, I think it always will be. Weird, eh?