I Let A Famous YouTuber Drive My Ferrari (And He Let Me Drive His)

If I was asked to succinctly sum up the classic Ferrari ownership experience, I wouldn’t be lying if I said it was life-affirming. Each journey, no matter how local, is an event. Every time I get in it I have to metaphorically pinch myself because a black-clad weirdo from the ass end of London has his own Ferrari Mondial QV, all bought and paid for. It doesn’t matter to me it’s the cheap one with a bad reputation among thumb-headed philistines–the official car of we have a 308 at home. Because every cliché about these cars is one hundred percent true. The heritage. The tactility. The sense of occasion. The noise. It’s not fast – sixty arrives in seven seconds or so – but as the motor howls past seven thousand and the unassisted steering unwinds out of a bend, I’m Gilles fucking Villeneuve.

The main thing the Mondial gives me is possibilities. It gets my boney ass off the couch at the weekend and makes me go out into the big wide world. Go to a show. See cool cars. Meet new people. I’m not precious about it – I’m quite happy to let kids (and their parents) sit in it and take photos, or for my local car wash guys post it on their social media pages. I mean I even let Torch have a drive. Ferrari ownership is a constant source of joy for me and other people. After twelve months of getting my eye in, reliability-wise, I was ready to trust it on a road trip across Europe to the hallowed grounds of both Monza and Maranello, and over 2,500 miles it performed faultlessly.

The laws of inevitability dictate life with a forty-year-old Ferrari won’t all be plain sailing. I didn’t buy it with content in mind, but blog the misery is the Autopian motto and I’ve been able to share the exasperating and expensive downs here so you chucklefucks can enjoy my misfortune (stay tuned to this station for another episode of Maranello misery coming soon…). Laugh it up all you want, but I still have a Ferrari. I even shot a few videos of it, but I’ve barely got to grips with writing let alone filming anything that isn’t a load of rambling British-accented nonsense. So I had been thinking for a while about turning it over to someone who knows what the bloody hell they are doing.

An Introduction To JayEmm

In a previous life, James Martin was a professional cameraman – he now has one of the UK’s most successful automotive YouTube channels – JayEmm on Cars. More importantly, in a sea of terrible online car video content, it’s one of the very few I can bear to watch. Amongst other things, he also owns a Ferrari – a 1999 550 Maranello (in fact he has three – an F12 and a 430 Scuderia also part of his fleet – I swear to god I’m in the wrong job). I met James at Rustival back in March, and floated the idea of what I believe the kids call a collaboration. Ever gracious James loved the idea and agreed. Before I tell you what I thought of his, watch the video above so James can tell you what he thought of mine.

Bring On The Dancing Horses

Unlike say McLaren, who have for years somehow managed to convince people each of their cars is different despite them all being fundamentally the same underneath, the majority of Ferraris old and new come in one of two classic layouts: smaller mid-engined V8 sports cars or honking great front-engine V12 GT cars. With its 2+2 seating, the Mondial sits somewhat uncomfortably in the former category, whereas the 550 Maranello is a paragon of the latter. I have experienced a V12 Ferrari before. As part of an eclectic fleet that includes a Bentley Continental GT, Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder and errrr a C4 Corvette and a Transit van, my best friend also has a 456GT. It’s totally the wrong color for one of those – resale red, has a black and red quilted suede interior and a horrible aftermarket steering wheel mounted on the wrong side of the cabin. That all sounds terrible but it is of course completely magnificent. Despite its numerous niggly faults I love driving it. It is viciously fast and sounds incredible. Even though it’s a big GT the tight control responses shrink the car around you. Somewhere deep in the file system of my brain these recordings undoubtedly factored into my Mondial buying decision.

Because I love irony I’ve got to be perfectly honest –  the 550 Maranello has never quite done it for me visually the way the slightly under-wheeled 456 has. Something about the way the softer biological feel of the lights and vents mixes a bit uncomfortably with the crisper nineties surfacing and the shallowness of the nose would be better served with pop-up headlights. Still in typical lady-of-dubious virtue red, it cuts a massive dash in the sleepy village pub car park near Silverstone where I met up with James a couple of weeks ago.

I hadn’t realized beforehand the 550 is a strict two-seater. Whereas the Mondial manages to squeeze two useless seats – or as I call them padded luggage space – behind the front chairs, the Maranello has a large, beautifully carpeted expanse of nothing complete with rich Italian leather bondage straps. At least that’s what I think they were. It’s worth noting though that because the 550 uses updated mechanicals from the 456 it has a transaxle – coupled with a 4” wheelbase reduction over the earlier car this means there isn’t room for additional seating anyway.

Despite their shared layout and underwear, the 550 wasn’t a replacement for the 456 at all. The 456 was actually replaced by another slightly gawky Ferrari – the 612 Scaglietti. The 550 was a reintroduction of the Daytona idea – a more agile grand tourer with a continent-crushing motor in a more driver-friendly position up front, instead of the twitchy and compromised mid-mounted flat twelve Testarossa-based cars. Those had been lingering like undercooked pasta since 1984, culminating in the horrifically ugly F512M. After the death of Il Commendatore in 1988, Ferrari had become a floundering unprofitable mess, and new chairman Luca di Montezemolo was determined to sort shit out in the showrooms to see off a resurgent Lamborghini, and in F1 where Ferrari had not won a world championship since 1979.

Part of the effort to get back to the pointy end of Grand Prix racing involved parking a camion full of money and currywurst outside reigning F1 champion Michael Schumacher’s haus. Things got so German over in Maranello the 550 was revealed to the press at the Nürburgring of all places, in 1996. The Old Man must have been spinning in his grave like the crank of one of his beloved V12s. The 5.5 liter (hence the nomenclature) motor in the 550 is an updated version of the one in the 456 but adds a trick variable length intake system. It also features dry sump lubrication and titanium alloy con rods for a total of 485 bhp (remember Italian horses are stronger) at a giddy 7000 rpm, with 419 lb. ft at 5000 rpm.

Keeping it rubber side down are double wishbones at each corner with a rudimentary computer-controlled two-stage damping system wired into a traction control system, because that is a lot of power for 295-section nineties tires. Hook it up, don’t fluff your changes through the classic Ferrari gated gear shift and sixty should be yours in 4.4 seconds on the way to a top speed of nearly two hundred. James’ 550 wouldn’t be the most powerful or fastest thing I’ve ever driven – that would be besties Continental GT, an altogether weightier and more secure proposition. It’s one thing driving a car of someone you’ve known for thirty years on roads you know. Driving the 200 mph pride and joy of someone you’ve only just met on roads you don’t know is slightly more terrifying.

A Faster And More Expensive Ferrari Than I’m Used To

Driving someone else’s car can sometimes be a bit like using their laptop or taking their partner out for a platonic dinner – simultaneously intrusive and uncomfortable even though you’ve got permission. Luckily, like me, James enjoys a certain loftiness of stature so I didn’t need to muck about making sure I fit in and could see everything I was supposed to. I don’t like cocking about with other peoples’ seat and mirror settings unnecessarily because it bugs the ever-loving shit out of me when people do it in my car – looking at you local garage. It never feels quite right afterward.

Inside the 550 is a riot of softly padded leather interior trim, deep carpets and comprehensive gauges. The transmission tunnel (even though it doesn’t contain an actual gearbox) splits the passenger cabin like the Hoover dam, which moves the metal shifter up to an extremely convenient position close to the wheel. With all that engine the 550 is refreshingly long-legged compared to the Mondial, but as usual there’s no second gear until the box is warmed up – they all do that sir. Does Ferrari deliberately engineer this feature-not-a-bug in? The gate is a normal H pattern with six speeds. Shift slickness and speed will depend on whether the gearbox is in a good mood or not.

The engine, mounted well behind the front axle, is a masterpiece. How do the engineers make them so smooth yet simultaneously so mechanical? Is there a stained glass window in the Ferrari engine shop featuring the Italian patron saint of powerplants? It doesn’t falter, stutter or stumble. It simply pulls in any gear in direct relation to proximity of sneaker to carpet. There’s subtle induction roar gently layered over a wonderful exhaust note and the operatic fury of twelve cylinders and 48 valves – and when your ears tell you it might be time to think about changing up, a glance at the rev counter informs you there’s still two thousand revs left to go. It’s incredibly linear and wiggle your toes responsive but builds progressively. No multivalve peakiness or sudden spikes in the delivery here. Despite those headline numbers being a big-lunged V12 you don’t have to wind it up, but half the fun of a Ferrari is doing exactly that. You can really only do this in the bottom gears though, because by the time you hit fourth you are seriously getting a move on.

The nature of their construction means no Ferrari has ever really been known for being particularly slimline – the Mondial is about 3000 lbs. (1400 kg) and the 550 is a chunky 3725 lbs. (1690 kg). By the way it responds you’d never guess. Speed-dependent power assistance means the 550 doesn’t hesitate to get its nose into a bend – it pulls the same trick the 456 and does exactly what you want when you want it. Inch perfect, not an inch more and you can feel the road through the wheel. At 179” (4.5 meters) long and 76” (1.9 meters) wide it’s by no means a boat so doesn’t heave and pitch like one. The computer-controlled shocks and sumptuous seats keep it all tied down and in place without cracking your ass bones. With its legs and comfort, you wouldn’t hesitate to point it towards Italy. If my Mondial is capable of it, the 550 definitely is.

Despite the sixteen-year gap between the releases of our two cars and the respective gulf in their capabilities, it’s strange how familiar the 550 feels. Maybe after two years of Ferrari ownership, I’m just getting a taste for the finer things. Those traits I mentioned at the start of the article–heritage, tactility, sense of occasion, noise – are still abundantly present. Objectively you know the 550 was built in a modern factory using state-of-the-art production techniques – but it still manages to feel lovingly assembled by artisans in brown coats, slowly turning individual components out by hand. Of course, James has had his issues with the car, but like me he’s not precious about using it – Ferraris need to be driven regularly to be at their very best. A later V12 model is a big step up in terms of purchase price and maintenance costs from my modest Mondial – beyond my means but it’s nice to know that besides outright performance and modern conveniences, I’m still getting the authentic Ferrari ownership experience. Including reassuringly expensive breakdowns.

I want to thank James for agreeing to this collaboration. James’ channel is JayEmm on Cars. He has lots of fantastic videos, which because of his professional background and training are extremely well filmed and presented, so give him a watch and subscribe. He wasn’t really convinced by the Capri 2.8 injection (the world’s greatest car) but he’s a lovely guy so I can’t really hold that against him. Not too much anyway. And James when you read this, I know I still owe you lunch.

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