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Seven months ago I was out at Balocco, the Alfa and Fiat test track that's tucked away in the dreary midge-infested flatlands between Turin and Milan. I was there to drive the Alfa 8C, and by the middle of the day I'd done several laps in that fire-spitting supercar. The first of those were tentative as anything because it's not an easy track and it's not an especially easy car, nor is it meant to be.

I stopped to let my heart-rate settle before I got over-ambitious and embarrassed or hurt myself. Halfway through a coffee and a bun (this is Italy: they're of a vastly smaller but more aromatic type than the coffee and buns at American-company test tracks) I bumped into a Fiat engineer I know.

"Here," he said, smiling impishly. "Follow me." Off we went into a courtyard of gaffer-taped prototypes. He plipped one and opened the driver's door to me. A 500, but not a normal one. I politely asked questions but couldn't sustain the pretence for long because I was gagging to start it.

We squirted out of the pit lane, but had barely got going when an 8C howled up behind, filling the mirrors. The track's a bit narrow for overtaking so I decided to proceed, holding him up as little as I could until we got onto the wider straight. Well, we got there but he didn't seem to want to pass. So on I went. And on. And on. After some 20 corners, at the end of the first lap, I slowed down and waved him through, ready to enjoy watching the 8C power into the distance.

Except, it didn't. At the end of the second lap the Abarth - for an Abarth it was - was still right up the Alfa 8C's chuff. This tale definitely isn't about the heroic driving of the fellow in the little car. Quite the opposite. I'm a tentative bloke on a racetrack, only too aware how woefully average my skill is. And that's the point. An Alfa 8C needs practice and a lot of talent if you're to get the best from it. I never did, and nor did the other guy.

The 500 Abarth's limits are lower, but to reach them you just hurl it at a corner and let it guide you, assist you, sort you out and generally be your friend. Which is why it's such colossal fun. I can't think of a better way of spending 135bhp.

OK, now it's time for the dreary 'forward-looking statement' disclaimer. By the time it goes on sale this autumn, a year will have passed since I had a go in this prototype, so treat this dynamic impression as strictly a first impression. Things could change. But the basics were just so right that I fervently hope they don't.