Ferrari F40 book review: Bring on the prancing horses

Back in a time when the ageing 328 and the flashy Testarossa were the best that Ferrari had to offer, and before the company suddenly remembered that you could still make exciting front-engined cars, it seemed that the firm had lost impetus in the declining years of its founder and bullish driving force, Enzo himself, as Fiat managers moved in. As for me, prancing horses had fallen down the list of desirable machinery. No works Ferraris contested Le Mans, and even the marque’s aesthetics seemed to be coasting on a wave of add-on glassfibre.

The 288 GTO offered a brief spark of excitement but that was a short run purely for homologation, and with the death of Group B any chance of it flying the flag on tarmac rallies or in GT racing evaporated, leaving it as the plaything of a few rich customers. But the financial benefit of that was noted.

Then in 1987, on the famous firm’s 40th anniversary, a bright red thunderbolt erupted from Maranello – the 200mph F40. It was raw, it was bare, and it radiated purpose. In place of the Testarossa’s look-at-me side strakes there was ground-hugging aero, NACA ducts and a tail spoiler that looked like it meant it. The scarlet stunner wouldn’t have been out of place at La Sarthe – but you could drive it there on the public road. A million young boys began to dream – as well as several hundred wealthy grown-ups.

In this large 240-page work Keith Bluemel, an acknowledged marque expert and concours judge, sets to work to dismantle the car for us and then reassemble one of the great automotive masterpieces, assisted notably by the man in charge of the project, Nicola Materazzi. I’ve been critical about the high end of Porter’s pricing structure in the past, so I’m happy to be able to applaud Ferrari F40 for offering such a wealth of material in an affordable, even good-value package which combines generous quality photography (400 images!) with much technical insight and first-hand input from main players. Frankly, absence of lavish slip cover apart, it would take some scrutiny to distinguish it from one of the firm’s £500-plus investment publications. Which does make me wonder how much a slipcase can cost…

I’m not sure there’s really any need to include a company history at the beginning of a Ferrari book any more, but this one is mercifully brief before launching in to the meat of the story with the arrival of the 288 GTO and then the blunt-nosed Michelotto-built variant now known as a 288 Evoluzione, though as Bluemel explains it was in fact something of a test mule for the F40. Then it’s over to Materazzi who joined the F1 department under Mauro Forghieri some years before and oversaw the 288, so was the perfect man when Enzo himself, with an eye to the financial success of the 288, signed off a road car successor.

The impact was instant, says Materazzi: the day after the launch the commercial director complained, “What a mess you have created. In less than 24 hours we have 900 confirmed orders!” Materazzi goes on to suggest that the F40 baled the company out of a bad period, and he’s critical of the Fiat management he blames for digging that hole. He resigned shortly afterwards.

“What a mess you have created. In less than 24 hours we have 900 confirmed orders!”

In his memories, Leonardo Fioravanti, who led the Pininfarina team shaping the machine, tells us that Pininfarina briefly denied its authorship of the shape after builders Michelotto modified it – until the car’s instant success. The famous ‘F’ badges were soon back on the car’s sleek flanks, within which you could see the 288’s glasshouse in the same way you could see the Porsche 911 within the 959. But as with the Stuttgart device this was a machine which had taken one giant leap. It’s a mild disappointment that the few comments from test driver Dario Benuzzi are borrowed from a magazine and don’t add much to the tale.

Some interesting step-by-step images show workers building the machine and its V8 and then comes a deep dive into technical detailing. It’s comprehensive, supported by many drawings, concluding with the special orders, notably for the Sultan of Brunei.

What’s particularly eye-opening is the sheer number of F40s that went racing, from plain road cars up to the GT, IMSA and LM variants. I hadn’t realised there were so many race entries, from 1989-96, and all listed here with chassis numbers and stories, plus race results included in the multiple appendices. We also get to hear from owners, restorers and maintainers, with ownership tips.

It’s a well-balanced mix of material fact, memories and practical information, eased along by Bluemel’s relaxed writing style. As a single source of pleasurable feasting on facts about the red rocket, it’s hard to beat. Sadly I never managed to get into an F40 driver’s seat in my pre-wheelchair days but I did later have the compensation of being heaved into Nick Mason’s car and whisked around Castle Combe by Le Mans winner and frequent Ferrari racer Richard Atwood. The car was as raw, loud and eye-poppingly quick as in my daydreams. Atwood, of course, was neither of the first two but was undoubtedly the third. Thank you Richard.

Ferrari F40 Keith Bluemel, Porter Press, £69 ISBN 9781913089429