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Ferrari
F 430
As the hairpin bend unwinds, you start squeezing
the throttle, and the engine note rises from a creamy bass growl to a screaming
howl, under laid by an increasingly fussy back beat of cams and valve gear.
It's a delicious, utterly intoxicating engine noise, one that encourages you to
use every last one of the 8500 revs that are on tap before you finger-flick the
paddle shifter back and engage third gear, just like that. The engine blares,
and-bang, bang-you upshift into fourth, then briefly into fifth, before getting
on the brakes for the approaching right-hander.
On roads like these, you don't miss the manual transmission at all, reveling
instead in the way you can drive the car with both feet and delighting in the
instant shifts in Race mode. The deep seam of forward thrust, courtesy of a
4.3-liter V-8 with 483 hp and 343 lb-ft of torque, is pretty compelling, too.
Firing-up the F430's 4.3-liter V8 is like watching the opening scene of a James
Bond movie: predictably ridiculous, yet giddy-making in its promise of extreme
violence. Engage the F1-style gearbox and you're away. A. Long. Way. Away.
Calling the F430 fast is like calling Miss America determined. Zero to sixty is
a sub-four second experience of mammoth, manic intensity; it's like being shot
of a cannon into a black hole. The dual-stage exhaust goes from a martini-soaked
Frank Sinatra to a cocaine-crazed Richard Patrick in less time than it takes to
crank a stereo knob.
Yes, there are faster cars. Certainly, there are more luxurious cars. Reliable?
Ha! But provided it's not in the shop, the Ferrari F430 always delights, with
its sublime handling, perfect mid-corner power and a roar that echoes in your
mind for the rest of your years.
  
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