Looks can be deceptive. Was there ever a more flamboyant and extrovert Ferrari than the Testarossa to look at, yet was there ever a more docile and practical 12-cylinder Ferrari supercar to live with? Perhaps that was its problem. Pininfarina’s sweeping lines, the triangular shape, side strakes, fins, louvres, a metal cage over the tail-lights, pop-up headlights: it is extravagance and swagger in metal, pure bravado; braggadocio, even. Then there is the 12-cylinder engine, officially a 180º V12 (we shall just call it a flat-12 from here on), promising Donner und Blitzen but deemed to deliver Dancer and Prancer. And for years, most people – especially in the UK, for which this car was signally not designed – thought that a bad thing.
They were wrong, of course. They just didn’t understand. They can’t be blamed, the Testarossa was easily misunderstood, especially in compact Britain where driving opportunities are compressed and pure continent-crossing GTs are alien fare. This Ferrari looked every inch the supercar, its performance stats were those of a supercar, but in its soul it simply wasn’t one. It wasn’t sufficiently highly strung. It had air-con.
Introduced to replace the 512BB in 1984, the Testarossa was longer, wider and lighter (yet at 1506kg it was considerably heftier than its period rivals, barring having only one of each until twin mirrors arrived in 1988, a year after the F40-esque spinners had given quarter to a more traditional five-bolt pattern.
