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.

Day 3: Nashville to St Louis, via Bayonne, New Jersey; 953 miles; “Back Where We Started, Here We Go Round Again”

[From 2009]

            Ah, remember the Mantide?  We got a call from Dan’s customs broker on Monday, advising us that the car had landed and cleared customs, with delivery arranged for Tuesday morning.  Dan calls his friend Carlos, who has a private plane.  Could we borrow it in the morning?  Sure, no problem.  Glenn and Mark are to continue towards St Louis in the two Ferraris, with the transporter now having leapfrogged us and awaiting there.  On the flight back East, Dan takes a crack at programming the digital radio scanner.  Because it’s mind-bogglingly difficult, we didn’t get a chance to do it before we started.  Trying to do it on the plane isn’t helping.

            At the warehouse in Bayonne, NJ, the delivery truck arrives with a very large crate.  The uncrating process was started by three guys and a forklift; by the end of the near-three hour task, the entire warehouse staff was working on it.  The Mantide was so well protected, I think the crate could have been flipped over without incurring any damage.  Jason Castriota, the proud papa, has met us to handle the delivery, explaining things like how to open the cantilevered clamshell hood, the various hidden releases and buttons, and the various concept car quirks we’d have to handle on the way.

            While striking in photographs, there’s no doubt that the overall design can be polarizing.  But it’s not until you see it in person, seeing both the minute design elements worked into every centimeter of the car, combined with the overwhelming physical impact that one can truly appreciate the beauty of the thing.  It’s simply gobsmackingly desirable.

            The interior is just as stylized, though it must be noted that like many Italian supercars, it’s not designed for particularly oversized drivers.  The main carbon fiber design element running across the dash in the shape of a manta ray threatens to chop off my knees in case of an impact.  The climate controls and Heads-Up Display are hidden from view for anyone above, say, 5’10”.  Surprisingly, the carbon shell racing seats are adjustable for reach and rake, and are not uncomfortable.  The scissor doors allow for fairly easy entry (even for women in short skirts), and the four point harnesses can be tucked away for use on the streets.

            Dan is already planning a few upgrades.  The shift knob is a plain piece of brushed nickel, classic in simplicity but in marked contrast to the carbon fiber and leather everywhere else.  The few remaining Chevy bits still poke up here and there.  Some are perfect, like the ZR1’s carbon composite brakes (ironically, the fronts are from the Ferrari FXX while the rears are from the Enzo).  Other pieces are perfectly acceptable, like the keyless entry and starting system.  Still others are somewhat out of place in a $2mm car, like the standard GM green “check gages” light staring at you when the gas tank runs low.

            Tossing our bags into the much-bigger-than-expected rear hatch area, we roll down the street to fill up the tank and hit the road.  Trucks pull over and drivers jump out to find out what the heck this thing is.  This is representative of every gas stop we’ll make over the course of the week; everyone in a half-mile radius comes over to gawk.  Dan is delighted to show people the car, though, and tell them about it.  Each introduction is accompanied by a pronunciation guide:  “BEAR-tone-ay, MAN-tih-day”

As we get ready to depart, Dan remarks that visibility towards the rear is compromised by the complex curves molded into the clear Lexan rear hatch.  We look at each other, smile, and simultaneously quote Raul Julia’s character from The Gumball Rally:  “And now, my friend, the first rule of Italian driving…  whatsa behind me, itsa not important!”

            Since the uncrating took much longer than expected, we’re in the thick of rush hour traffic swarming out of NYC.  When Glenn checks in and we report back that we’re only averaging about 40 mph, he asks Dan, “did you buy a MAN-tih-day or a MO-PED-day?”  This is not helped by the description of the porterhouse and wine Mark and Glenn enjoyed at the Ritz Carlton St Louis, nor the comfy featherbeds awaiting them.  While Dan and I have 900 miles of Interstate, Red Bull and Doritos in front of us.

As we roll along, everyone and I mean everyone is staring at this thing.  More attention than a naked Megan Fox sunbathing in the back seat of a pink Cadillac convertible.  We’ve stopped counting at 473 the number of cell phone photos taken of us. 

Dan, my trusted and boon companion, suddenly decides that his stint behind the wheel is over and wants me to drive… just as we’re approaching Ohio.  Curses.  With its speed enforcement reputation, Ohio has scared plenty of drivers to take alternate routes (I-64 is a viable alternative, adding only a handful of miles but avoiding Ohio altogether).  With no small trepidation, we enter Ohio at the posted limit, slowly increasing it as we roll along.  I decide that at this late hour, we’re relatively safe – and hey, the faster we get out of this state, the safer we’ll be, right?  For the Ohio stint, we do 309 miles at an average of 80.5 mph, with 308.7 miles of that spent in 6th gear.  This monster motor has enough torque for 35 mph to 128 mph and beyond.

Stopping for gas in Indiana, we dine at 3:30 am on sandwiches in triangular plastic containers.  ‘Cause that’s how we roll.  “I’m thinking that the other guys may have enjoyed their dinner a bit more tonight.”  “But they’re missing out on this experience!  This is what American road trips are all about!  Answering questions about the car from meth dealers at Indiana gas stations in the middle of the night, eating 2 year old sandwiches, sucking down caffeine and racking up the miles – this is it, baby!”

While the dash contains a Magnetti Marelli race car graphic display (as used in the Ferrari FXX), it’s pretty useless when lumbering across the mid-west on Interstates.  The Corvette HUD projects the speed, engine RPM, lateral G ’s, and temperatures onto the windshield, so the green graphics appear to be floating on the road in front.  This makes for amusing visual illusions as the night presses on.  We cross the Mississippi at 5:27 am CDT, and arrive at the Ritz Carlton St Louis in a groggy but conscious state.  The best hotel beds in the world are calling us, and Dan and I each grab about 2 hours of rest-eye.

Day 2: Lexington, VA to Nashville via Tail of the Dragon; 594 miles; “Sheer and Utter Violence”

[From 2009] 

            Trying to make up time, we boogied from Virginia to Knoxville, Tennessee, where we were desperate for lunch.  A quick Google search turned up Scruggs Real Pit Barbecue, what was promised to be the best BBQ in Knoxville.  The atmosphere was slightly off-putting, as there were padlocks on the soda chests; the cash we dropped into the counter tip jar was immediately emptied; and all of the coin-op games had “not working” signs on them, as did the bathroom.  But was the BBQ good?  Yes, oh my, yes.  The best smoked pork sandwich any of us had ever tasted.  Surprisingly, the pork was thinly sliced and not pulled, closer in taste to belly than shoulder, and not deeply sauced, in accord with Eastern Tennessee tradition. 

While we were wolfing down our sandwiches, fried okra, mac salad, baked beans and a giant plate of rib bones, the owner rushed into the place.  Our cook had called him and said that a pair of Ferraris had pulled up.  The owner didn’t believe it, and came down to see for himself.  “Now, boys, I’m delighted you came, but what the heck are you doing in the ghetto?” “Sorry, did you say ghetto?” “Yup!  This is the ghetto of Knoxville!”  We told him that the food was fantastic, and we were glad that we braved the visit (the Google search hadn’t said anything about the neighborhood).

Unfortunately, because of yesterday’s torrential downpours, the transporter couldn’t catch up to us, which meant no unleashing of the McLaren F1.  We had grand hopes of seeing it in action on the Tail of the Dragon, famed for its “318 curves in 11 miles” and one of the most famous motorcycling roads in America.  Undaunted, we proceeded to drive the Tail, starting from the Tennessee side.  Hundreds of motorcycles, from sportbikes to touring rigs to fully chromed Harley Davidson cruisers ascend and descend the road, sharing it fitfully with pickups, campers and Tennessee law enforcement. 

We ended up completing the Tail of the Dragon not just once but three times, swapping cars and seats.  At the busy gas station and campground – staging area, really – on the North Carolina end of the Tail, we met some friendly motorcyclists who wanted to follow us back across the Tail to shoot some videos on their hero cams.

It was on this road that the Scuderia 16M finally revealed its true character.  Yes, you can drop the top and cruise through Beverly Hills.  But give it some leash, and the deep impression you get is that of sheer and utter violence.  One simply cannot turn away from the shrieking sound, the mace blow the transmission makes on a full-throttle upshift, and the head-snapping stopping power of the carbon composite brakes.  With the Manettino turned to Race mode, Dan attacked the curves with violence in his heart, the ripping canvas of the exhaust drowning out even the open pipes on the American v-twins and Japanese fours. 

The next time through, we elect to drive “The Pace”, a motorcycling term to describe the maximizing of cornering momentum and accurate targeting of corner apexes while using virtually no brakes – and absolutely no crossing of the double-yellow.  Done properly, the Pace is almost as fast –if not faster— than a more aggressive attitude, requiring only faith from the driver that the car can take a fast entry speed without braking.  Here, the 16M shines as well, sticking close to our new motorcycling friends, dragging their knees deep into the corners. 

The 612 Scaglietti comports itself with dignity, keeping mostly up, showing a dropped hem only in the wisps of smoke coming off the brakes at the turnout.  Pretty impressive for our luggage carrier.

We had to call it a day on the Tail of the Dragon, as the roller coaster ride had made Glenn and Mark very queasy.  From there, we headed for the Cherohala Skyway, a relatively new 36-mile road cutting through the Cherokee and Nantahala National Forests (well over 50 miles if you add in the bits at the start and end that are equally impressive).  This road deserves to join the pantheon of great American roads, as it offers Skyline Drive views and curves, with almost no traffic.

As the clock was ticking ever louder, we were now making a run for Nashville.  Stricken with hunger pangs, we stopped at the Watts Bar Grill and Chill, a roadside bar just after the twin cooling towers of the nearby TVA nuclear power plant.  We had hoped to be as unobtrusive as possible, to get back on the road, but it was not too be (yes, shocking), with patrons emptying out to check out the cars.  Still, the wings and cheese steaks were more than passable, longnecks were Monday’s $1 special, and the locals were very friendly –everyone in the bar introduced themselves and shook our hands.

Dark now, we put the hammer down, cruising up Route 68 and flying west on I-40, doing 102 miles in an hour and 18 minutes. We’re spending the night at a Fairfield Inn at the Nashville airport.  Why here?

Day 1: Manhattan to Lexington, VA; 477 miles; “How Bad Can the Rain Be?”

[From 2009]

We started the day very early, taking advantage of the relative calm to do some shooting with photographer Daniel Byrne for this article.  Coincidentally, we shot in many of the same NYC places as in The Gumball Rally: across 59^th Street in front of the Plaza hotel and into Columbus Circle, crossing Times Square, coming out of Grand Central Terminal onto Park Avenue.  After finally making it out of Manhattan, we detoured through a surprisingly pastoral part of New Jersey, where Daniel shot us while kneeling and facing backwards in the 16M.  

Then torrential downpours hit, as bad a rainstorm as we’ve ever seen outside the tropics.  Cars were pulled over on the side of I-78, but the 612 Scaglietti was supremely stable and confident even in these conditions; the 16M slightly less so.  The McLaren was downright scary, and the downforce it generated was literally vacuuming the water off the road, making it impossible for anyone behind it to see.  So we decided to call in the cavalry early.  The transporter met us and we loaded up the McLaren.  We had a late lunch at a traditional NJ diner, where buckets were catching the cascading rain dripping down around our table. 

Now about 4 hours behind schedule, we began picking our way through the 2-lane traffic down I-78 and I-81.  We made up a lot of the deficit, arriving at Front Royal, Virginia, in the late afternoon, where the rain had stopped. We set off for Skyline Drive through Shenandoah National Park, accepting the fact that the drive would be slow, but the spectacular scenery was high on our checklist. 

As expected, the road built by FDR’s Works Progress Administration was stunning.  Vistas opened up on either side of the road, and we stopped at plenty of overlooks for photos and just to gape.  Our average speed getting to Skyline was great, and now it was plummeting, but we didn’t care.

And the panoramas got even more breathtaking as the sun set, with a misty gloom settling over the valley, while we looked from on high.  After exiting Skyline Drive, we decided to continue South on the Blue Ridge Parkway.  No longer monitored by park rangers and well into deep dusk, it was time to pick up the pace.  As Dan exclaimed, this drive was transcendent.  With bi-xenon headlights cutting through the encroaching darkness, top and windows down, the ripping sounds of Italian engines, and a winding, rolling ribbons of pavement ahead, it was nirvana.

When we reluctantly turned off for I-81, we stopped for dinner at, yes, Burger King.  Picking Lexington, VA as our stopping point, we ended up at Col Alto, a historic manor house now turned into a Hampton Inn.  A motel never felt so luxurious.

Day 0: Transit to Manhattan, Kick-off Party

[From 2009]

            Mark was flying from London, and meeting us in NY city.  Starting from Boston, Dan and Glenn would swing by Long Island to grab the McLaren from storage.  They just picked up the Scuderia 16M from Ferrari of New England, where it had 213 miles on the odometer.  The paint is a custom pearlescent white (for which Ferrari kindly charged more than the MSRP of a Toyota Prius) with red leather interior.  This outré color combo is not Dan’s typical style, so I’ve taken to calling him “Paris Hilton”.  Perhaps it shows just how slightly deranged we are in that we’re planning on sending the slate gray 612 Scaglietti ahead as the “stealth” vehicle to sniff out trouble. 

            To utterly no surprise, the first kink in our plan had cropped up already.  Bertone had been doing high-speed tests of the Mantide at the Nardo test track in Italy.  It was to have been shipped back to NY before our departure, but thanks to the airline somehow losing the paperwork, it was stuck in Luxembourg.  Now it was supposed to arrive at JFK on Sunday, but it would have to clear customs, so it’d be Tuesday at best before we could pick it up, but it could well be delayed further.  Do we delay our departure?  Have it shipped from NY to St Louis to meet us?  Draft another friend to drive it out?  We decided to play it by ear, and press on regardless.

            The team finally all rendezvoused in Manhattan, where we had a kick-off dinner with friends and family at Alfredo of Rome at Rockefeller Center.  The cars parked on 49^th St caused the first of many, many commotions of the trip, with tour buses leaning to the side as everyone pressed faces against glass.  After plates of Fettuccini Alfredo, we surprised Dan with a custom made cake in the shape of the Mantide, then headed for the hotel for a good night’s sleep – the most sleep we’d get for the week, as it turns out.

Prelude / Introduction -- "Gumball", preparations and DOT regulations

[From 2009]

            It started, simply enough with a one-word email:  “Gumball.” 

Many readers are no doubt familiar with the 1976 movie, The Gumball Rally, similar in plot and tone to the subsequently-released but better-known Cannonball Run, both portraying a race across the country, from Manhattan to the Pacific ocean.  The competition is triggered by phone calls and telegrams relaying that one word.  

            My friend Dan Watkins sent this email to me in mid-July, knowing full well that I’d immediately reply  – “Ok, what the heck are you up to now?”  Most recently, Dan participated in a Ferrari Club of America rally through New England in his recently acquired McLaren F1.  Shanghaied as his navigator, I found myself stuffed into the right-hand passenger seat (which, surprisingly, had more headroom for my 6’3” XL frame than the left-hand passenger seat) for 600 very quick miles through the White and Green mountains. 

            “I’ve been invited to show my newest acquisition on the lawn at Pebble Beach, and I thought I should also have a couple of Ferraris there.  And the McLaren is being shown as well.  Rather than doing the boring thing and shipping all the cars there via transporter, I thought that we should drive across the country.  Just like the Gumball Rally.  Only without the car wrecks and police helicopters.  Hopefully.”

            “Dude!  I’m so in.  But I thought the McLaren was your ‘latest acquisition’?”

            “Oh, didn’t I tell you?  I bought the Bertone Mantide.  I drove it at the Goodwood Festival of Speed, and Stile Bertone wants to have it introduced to the US audience in Monterey.  I’ve always liked Jim Glickenhaus’ P4/5 built on the Enzo, and wanted a coach-built one myself.  It’s being shipped here, and I think we should drive it, the McLaren and a couple of Ferraris to California.”

            “Wait – you bought a Mantide?  When did that happen?”

            “Well, technically, I bought the Mantide, but yeah.  Bertone is considering building more depending on demand, but for now, it’s the only one.  What better way to show how practical it is than to drive it to Pebble Beach?”

Stile Bertone, the legendary Italian design house, built the Mantide as a styling exercise to demonstrate its current prowess.  This is the baby of Jason Castriota, Design Director at Bertone, who worked on the Ferrari 599 GTB Fiorano, the Maserati GranTurismo, the Maserati Birdcage 75th and the Rolls Royce Hyperion concept cars.  Most pertinently, Jason was the Head Designer at Pininfarina for the one-off Ferrari P4/5 for Glickenhaus.  With a hand-laid carbon-fiber body and interior built on the new Corvette ZR1 chassis and drivetrain, the Mantide runs the stock (for now) supercharged Chevy V8 putting out 638 horsepower, but carries about 200 fewer pounds.

            Now, a word about Mr. Watkins.  Dan is a Boston-based co-founder of a thriving software company, and is now able to indulge the passion for cars inculcated by Formula 1 as a young lad growing up in a working-class English city.  A financial firm invested in his start-up a couple of years back, so Dan, 40, could now compete in the Ferrari Challenge series, and race a Porsche 911 GT3 Cup at the 24 Hours of Daytona.  His collection has included a Ferrari 288 GTO, Dino 246 GTS, Lamborghini Miura, and a series of modern Ferraris.

            But unlike many or even most collectors, Dan’s ethos has always been to drive, believing that cars are meant to be used.  When Dan and I first met, I thought his black Ferrari 360 Modena was painted gray, when it just went unwashed for months.  To attend F1 races, he’s driven the 288 GTO to Montreal and a Challenge Stradale to Indianapolis.  So it’s perfectly natural, in his mind, to drive four supercars across the country.

            “Ok, so we’re taking the Bertone and the McLaren.  Which Ferraris?”

            “Well, my Scuderia Spider 16M should be delivered in a couple of weeks, so we can take that.  It’d be cool to have the world’s highest mileage 16M, don’t you think?  And for comfort and luggage room, I thought the 612 Scaglietti would be perfect.”

            Damn.  The automotive road trip of a lifetime – driving across the country in more than $5 million worth of exotic cars.  To complete our team, we recruited friends Mark Nolan, 44, an IT professional from London who’s also an avid amateur photographer, and Glenn Farrell, 48, a builder of spectacular luxury houses from the Maine coast.  Glenn, Dan and I had all driven Ferraris together on the race track, so we had mutual confidence in driving skills; with Mark, we agreed to remind him to stay on the right side of the road.

            With just three weeks before the departure date, planning shifted into panicked high gear.  We debated the proposed route, hoping to include some remarkable roads in the East as well as the best of the Rockies and the West.  We’d have to sacrifice the middle of the country to Interstates.  Our checklist included:  UHF radios, multiple Valentine 1 radar detectors, a digital trunking radio scanner, AAA memberships, plenty of cash for bail, and a roll of duct tape. 

            Dan and I discussed reliability and spares:  “Hey, how unreliable can a one-off hand-built prototype built by guys named Alfredo and Luigi be?”  “But it’s built on a Corvette!  Bet it’ll be more reliable than a hand-built 12-year old supercar constructed out of unobtainium by guys named Nigel and Rupert.”  “Do you think the Ferrari that’s survived two years of power-drifting through Boston snowstorms will be more reliable than the brand new, limited-production one right off the boat?”  “And how many sidewall failures have we had with the low-profile baloney skins that come on Ferraris these days?” 

Admittedly, it was the tire issue that scared us the most.  If one of us hit a big pothole, we could lose a tire, and it’d be at least a day or two before we could acquire a replacement.  Ironically, it was the custom-made Michelins ($5000 per set) on the McLaren F1 that was the least frightening; with higher-profile 45 series 17” tires, its wheels looked like they belonged on an SUV, comparatively speaking.

Another consideration that cropped up was the legal mileage limitation on the McLaren F1.  It had been imported under the DOT’s Show or Display exemption, which meant that it was restricted to 2500 miles per annum.  To solve both issues, Dan decided to bring his Ferrari Challenge race car Toterhome RV that could carry two cars, stacked.  We packed spare tires for all the cars into it, and planned to garage the F1 for the long-haul through the Midwest.  The truck would, we planned, leap-frog our route, to ensure that it was no more than a few hours away.  Yes, it was over the top, but bringing along a rolling garage made the plan bulletproof.  Or so we thought.

            Our goals for the trip were simple:  get all four cars from Manhattan to Monterey in eight days, take in some of America’s best National Parks, enjoy some famous windy roads, and avoid getting arrested.  I had another goal:  to find out if the Bertone Mantide is the solution to the “Corvette issue.”  What’s that?

The Corvette.  Either you’ve always wanted one, probably since you were a teenager, or else you never quite understood the appeal.  Oh sure, you aficionados of Porsches, BMWs and Ferraris may respect the Corvette, respect its dominating performance, and respect its huge bang-for-the-buck ratio, but you’ve never lusted for one.  You may even have considered a Dodge Viper over your perennial 911 or M3 lust, but a Z06 never quite scratches that itch.  So what happens when a historic Italian design house takes the ultimate factory Corvette and drapes a stunning new dress over it?  Can the Bertone Mantide win over those who never really fell for the ‘Vette?

The challenge, then, for the Mantide was to see if it could outshine (or even come close to) the best attributes of the other cars:  the GT touring legs and comfort of the 612 Scaglietti, the South Beach cruising sex appeal of the Scuderia 16M, and the utterly dominating performance and presence of the McLaren F1.

            And I had similar questions of the other cars.  Can the McLaren F1, for all of its world-class performance reputation, serve as Gordon Murray insisted – as a comfortable GT machine too?  Could the Scuderia 16M demonstrate the worth of its huge price differential over the ecstasy of the “standard” 430 Spider, while retaining the exquisite driving experience of the 430 Scuderia coupe?  And could the 612 Scaglietti, with its real-world weight of close to 4,000 pounds, use its massive torque to keep up with the burners on America’s best roads?

On occasion of the auction of the Bertone Mantide - reliving the 2009 adventure.

Yes, the Bertone Mantide is going up for Auction, after a decade of fun, at the Worldwide Auctioneers Scottsdale Auction on Wednesday, January 15.  So I'm taking this opportunity to relive the glorious adventure we had, traveling from NYC to Monterey back in 2009:  4643 miles, eight days, four supercars---McLaren F1, Bertone Mantide, Ferrari Scuderia 16M Spider, Ferrari 612 Scaglietti---and zero tickets.

My article on the trip was published in Automobile magazine, with photography by Daniel Byrne, Brian Konoske, Mark Nolan and yours truly.  But that article was edited for space (and, sure, trimming my excesses).  The original piece I submitted ran more than twice as long, with a lot more detail and mis-adventures.  I'll be publishing the full, unexpurgated version here this week, as we go!

By way of background, here's a good piece in Hemmings about the Bertone Mantide.  Dan is back and living in London, a senior executive at an international financial firm.  Glenn is still building mansions in Maine, Mark is traveling the globe in IT, and Dennis is in private equity, based in Boston but on the road too.

And, yes, we are grossly overdue for another adventure.  Stay tuned!