TV and radio presenter Tom Urquhart finds you are never too old or too young to fall in love with a Ferrari
ell me… what was I to do? They “made me an offer that I couldn’t refuse”. So, what exactly is a man of 40-something, and his boy, supposed to do in a situation like that?
Now, before you judge, and you will judge, there’s one thing we must get straight. I am not and, thankfully for the motoring industry and car enthusiasts alike, never will lay any claim whatsoever to be a motoring journalist, ever.
What I am, however, is a poser, a bonafide, braggadocio show-off of the top order - it sort of comes with the day job. That, and a father who is constantly letting down his son (and daughters for that matter... sorry girls), given the unsocial and ‘non-family-friendly’ hours I invariably end up working.
As such, I’m never one to pass up on any opportunity to make up with my mob for missed bath times and lost weekends, especially when it’s handed to you on a luxury number plate by one of the most iconic brands in the world. What do they say… never stare a gift horse in the mouth?
So, back to that irrefutable offer. Ferrari call, they want to give me a car for the weekend to go about my usual weekend responsibilities - in a Ferrari - and if you get a chance hit the open road with son in tow for a bit of father/son bonding then report back. So that’s how I came to be behind the cushioned
steering wheel of a new royal-blue Ferrari California T, driving my son Gus to his rugby practice of a Friday morning, before you could say pronti, partenza, via.
I am reliably advised that the T stands for “the new turbocharged 3.9-litre V8 engine, just one of a number of modifications that set it apart from the old California”. Great. All I could reliably advise was that it was beautiful, its roar was sweeter than Katy Perry’s (Gus’ line, not mine) and its handling was so boss (Gus again). It’s without doubt the lushest car I have ever had the privilege to pilot.
I’m not even that fond of driving, but this car is more than a getter from A to B - it’s an Enzo-experience!
It makes you want to drive.
It makes you want to run those annoying errands and to visit old friends you haven’t seen for ages.
It wasn’t all plain sailing. There were a few hurdles that needed overcoming that, I’m sure, your average Ferrari driver probably doesn’t need to deal with. Boot space for instance. I have no doubt that the R&D team at Maranello are exacting in the finer details of car design, but I can guarantee they’ve never tried to get a full cricket kit bag in the back. Father and son, man and boy, hit the open road later in the day for some turboboosted bonding. One of the girls needed picking up from Umm Al Quwain,
so we jumped at the opportunity. What was really nice was the fact we talked, actually talked, not just grunts to buy more time on the iPad, but a proper catch up.
We talked cricket, sisters and school. We talked words that I once thought were cool (like cool) that are no longer and have been replaced by more ‘swag’ alternatives.
We chatted, laughed, we oohed and we ahhed, we selfied, we fist-pumped, we dabbed (when was safe to do so of course) and we carpool-karaoked to our hearts content. I think we shared a moment. One of those rare moments, when two males with 31 years between them, enjoy the same experience as much as each other.
The irony was not lost on me. The fact that Ferraris are so often associated with the middle of one’s life, through treat, reward or crisis. They answer those guttural youthful cravings for unfettered fun, unbridled exhilaration and simple need for speed.
And yet we all too often forget that these self-same emotions are born from our childhood when we stare openmouthed out of the back window of our family estate as a Ferrari glides by.
At least I, and perhaps Gus, can tick this one of our respective bucket lists. And at least we got to share a memories that will keep giving for years to come. What’s that saying? Never stare a gift prancing stallion in the