I would never go to the supermarket naked, and that’s exactly why I can’t own a Ferrari 488 Spider.
I like the 488 Spider – it’s the GTS, if you’re into the accepted nomenclature stuff. There have been criticisms about the turbocharged engine, because the high-rev Italian histrionics of the old naturally aspirated version have been lost, but that honestly doesn’t bother me that much. I have a bike with an engine that’ll rev to 15,000rpm if I want to marvel at the thought of valves moving that quickly.
The door handles look completely crap. No idea what they were thinking of there. More worryingly, it’s a bit creaky on anything other than a perfect road, and I hate cars that sound like the Cutty Sark. It’s the convertible, you see, and that leads me to a very important question.
Whenever I drive a convertible, and I reach for the button or lever that lowers the top, I pause and think, would I take the roof down if I was naked?
I did take roofs down when I was in my 30s, and my protruding head was a wild cataract of hairy glory and my face was stretched over my skull like the baize on a newly assembled pool table. But I’m 53 now, and I look like shit.
In fact, if I’m in a Ferrari at all, let alone a convertible one, I look like a middle-aged man who’s worried that women don’t find him interesting any more. That’s why I have one.
But back to nudity. If you’re my sort of age, you shouldn’t have a convertible car at all. But if you do, and you’re thinking of lowering the roof, stop and ask yourself this question. Would I be happy now if people could see my old chap/magic triangle?
If not, leave it up.