Day 4: St Louis to Denver; 848 Miles; “On the Fields of Armageddon”

[From 2019]

            We start the morning, after way too little sleep, with a TV station interview covering our little road trip.  While saddened to leave the comfortable embrace of the Ritz after spending such little time there, we did want to make Denver that night.  After the high-speed testing at Nardo, Bertone added small Lexan aerodynamic devices to the under-tray, one each in front of the front wheels, to provide additional stability above 200 mph.  Whatever benefits they provide, these little deflectors are also scraping on every coin we drive over.  In his Indiana stint, Dan hit an unavoidable minefield of construction potholes hard enough to jolt me awake (and convince me that I’ve shattered my left kneecap).  And in so doing, has cracked both deflectors.  They are designed to be easily replaceable, but we don’t have any replacements with us.  Unsure of the aerodynamic effects if we just remove them (particularly on the high speed runs planned for later), Glenn steps up and wraps them in duct tape.  Yes, we’re fixing a

unique $2 million concept car with duct tape in the driveway of the Ritz Carlton.  First class all the way, baby!  I dare Dan to display the car at Pebble Beach with our duct tape modification intact.

            Our trip today consists entirely of heading west on the Interstate.  The 612 Scaglietti is well-suited for this purpose, despite its niggling ergonomic challenges.  The cruise control switches are much more tactilely pleasurable than the Chevy bits on the Bertone, but they are much harder to use.  Perhaps Ferrari thinks that cruise control are like cup holders; really only for Americans?

The 612’s hyper-expensive Bose entertainment and navigation system is the prime culprit here.  Sure, it produces rich, atmospheric sound that can be tuned to your utter delight, but that’s only if you can work the interface.  Two reasonably bright, gadget owning guys spent 8 days trying to figure out the system, and it still left us scratching our heads.  Connect to an iPod?  Sure, but good luck trying to call up the right album or select a different song.  This difficulty is dwarfed by the sheer frustration offered up by the navigation system.  Want to pan a map?  Rotate a knob to move up and down; then push the knob to rotate the angle of movement, and push the knob again to enable movement along the new axis of direction.  Forget it.  It was far easier, faster and more accurate to use Google Maps on the iPhone.  What’s frustrating is that the underlying audio hardware is so damn impressive, with only the crippling interface letting us down.  Attention, Steve Jobs….

            Having said all that, the 612 is clearly the best car for today.  Comfortable, supportive seats, plenty of room, ice-cold air conditioning (the equal of any American pick-up truck and about 5 times better than any Ferrari of a decade ago), Sirius comedy (once you figure out how to select it), and easy cruising at 120 mph – there is no better way to cross Missouri and Kansas, other than a Gulfstream jet. 

           

The 16M is not nearly as bad as feared for this sort of driving.  With the top up and the A/C on, the only intrusion into comfort is the firm carbon fiber shells, and that too could be chalked up to our XL derrieres.  As a nod to weight reduction, the only audio system available is the fully integrated iPod touch (complete with custom Ferrari wallpaper).  Great concept, really; lightweight, easy to use, gigs of music.  Except that someone apparently forgot that this was a convertible.  The driver needs to read tiny icons and words while moving, illegible in the full sun typically accompanying a top-down drive, and not to mention tapping the screen just so while the suspension is bouncing your finger to and fro.  It’s only a matter of time until some rich idiot Ferrari driver sues for an accident that occurred while pulling up a new playlist.  The other bit of faulty design in this system is the volume control.  Want to turn up the volume?  Press and hold down a button for, literally, 2-3 seconds, or just stab the button 11-16 times.  Music is pumping and your passenger says something?  Do the same again to turn the volume down.  Who in the world thought this was a better solution than the 80-year old design of a knob?

Clearly, as we kept driving west through the flat Midwest, we had a lot of time to whine to each other.  The top of the Mantide’s doors are made out of clear Lexan and glass.  Resembling nothing so much as the cockpit of an F-16 Falcon, it’s the perfect car for seeing the sights, short of a convertible.  But less than great for crossing Kansas, as it’s basically a giant greenhouse.  Glenn, of Irish descent and pale of skin, was the lucky driver for this stint.  He draped a towel over his head and ears, pulled a cap over it, and dubbed himself Glenn of Arabia.  There would be more consequences later.

            Amazed that my compatriots have never had the world’s best fried chicken, we make a slight detour in Topeka for dinner, to a Popeyes Chicken and Biscuits.  A large box of spicy fried chicken, some red beans and rice, and fresh biscuits.  Nom nom nom.  Outside the Popeyes, the word had gotten out, and the locals had formed a small car show around our conveyances.  Modified Civics and Mustangs were roaring into the lot to check out the exotic machinery.  “Never in a million years did I think I’d ever get to see cars like this in Topeka!”

            As the sun set, it became self-evident just how viscerally stunning the Mantide is.  With LED lighting up front and back, it’s nothing less than an alien starship, particularly as it passes you at a high rate of speed, shockingly silent as the engine is barely above idle.  The 16M generates the most squeals of delight, as it’s at least recognizable.  The 612 glides along, nearly unnoticed in this company.

            As we enter the flatlands of Eastern Colorado, a major thunderstorm is brewing against the horizon.  For this New Englander, never have I seen a thunderstorm that stretches 180 degrees against the horizon, giant purple thunderheads glowing with lightning strikes.  The closest feeling I can summon is that of standing on the fields of Armageddon, witnessing the End of Days.  The gusting winds are discomforting, but all three cars handle it mostly with aplomb and only a few white knuckle moments.