FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH

Simon Kidston takes us on the Daytona’s rollercoaster market ride

Daytona. Whether you’re talking the track, the wristwatch or the car, it’s a name that conjures speed, style and sexiness. Paul Newman’s own Rolex Daytona was a gift from his wife back in ’68, and was just auctioned for $17.5 million, which trumps any other Daytona as an investment.

Had Mrs Newman walked into a Ferrari showroom instead of the Rolex one four decades ago and laid down the required $20,000 for Maranello’s then-latest supercar, the rate of return wouldn’t have been quite as stellar, and servicing, storage and insurance wouldn’t compare as favourably either. Yet, leaving aside the monumental premium for Newman’s ownership, a one-owner Ferrari Daytona might fetch a million dollars, or say £700,000 today. That’s 50 times the original purchase price in almost 50 years.

It wasn’t always this way. Some 1400 new Daytonas found buyers on both sides of the Atlantic despite its relatively conservative design, outselling its great rival, Lamborghini’s radical mid-engined Miura, by almost two to one. Come 1973, however, and the brutal OPEC oil crisis, supercars became almost unsaleable overnight. The last few Daytona Spyders sat unsold at the docks in LA and had to be discounted by the factory to preferred clients, while in Britain two-year-old Daytona coupés were partexchanged for Ford Granadas.

Come the 1980s, the idea of collecting cars entered the mainstream. The Daytona’s successor, the Boxer, never endeared itself to enthusiasts quite like the iconic Daytona, with its endless bonnet, short tail and oldfashioned macho grunt. By the time the Boxer was in turn replaced by the Testarossa in 1984, a superb, used Daytona coupé already commanded the same price as the other two, something previously unheard of.

Fast-forward to the late-1980s classic car boom, and the first car I was sent to value as a 21-year-old novice in the auction business was a red Daytona coupé in north London. The patient vendor kindly offered me a ride and to this day I remember the scent of Italian leather, the promise of excitement when he started it up, and the unrelenting mechanical savagery as we roared past commuters in a blur of exotic colour.

A month later we sold it to an Italian collector for £190,000. Six months on and it was worth 50% more. Another six months and that had become another 50%. Yet only a year later it was worth just £80,000. Markets are seldom one-way.

The last ten years have been gentler and, although the most recent five have seen prices reach all-time peaks and fall back a little since 2014, Daytonas have still doubled in value. Spyders, of which 121 were made, remain the most-sought after if you leave aside the 15 coupés built by the factory for Group 4 competition.

My insider’s tip for ones to buy? Either the very earliest coupés with Plexiglas enclosed headlights, preferably in a rare and stylish colour (think blue, green, gold, brown – yes, really – or black), or one of the Europeanspec Spyders. Because 96 went to the USA, that means only 25 cars, of which seven were right-hand drive. Rarity and originality are key; condition is less important, especially for valuable Spyders.

And yes, they’re still great to drive. Just don’t mention the brakes.