And then that noise. To this day I still find it haunting and unlike any other engine designed by Ferrari or anyone else. Rich but raw, complex and ever changing it fascinated and compelled me like nothing else: a V6 to make Porsche’s flat-six seem two dimensional and dull. I sat there, captivated by that sound, looking at the way the front wings rose up beyond the windscreen, barely believing this car was not only going to join the family, it was going to stay forever.
Well I got the first bit right. Disappointingly, the six year old me failed to see the stock market crash coming but when it hit, it hit hard. We were forced to sell everything – save the house and that bloody Escort. Although Girardo’s records suggest we had it for a year, I suspect it spent most of that time back at Lintons on SOR. The idea had always been to use it in France because Jersey is a stupid place to keep a fast car. But it never happened: the Dino stayed just long enough to infect me with a love for them that has never left, and then it was gone.
It sounds pathetic, but I got quite and unexpectedly emotional seeing it again on Max’s website. It had left something within me all those years ago, something with which I’d never suspected was there despite plenty of encounters with other Dinos since. I’ve always loved the way they look, the way they drive, the way they make me feel, but this one was, is and will always remain different. My first Ferrari. My father’s first Ferrari and, once it had gone, seemed very likely to have been his last too. Thankfully I was wrong about that too.