# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Practicality skinned and stretched over Ferrari’s sporting framework. The brand’s first four-seat, four-door, taller vehicle. Just don’t call it an SUV

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Practicality skinned and stretched over Ferrari’s sporting framework. The brand’s first four-seat, four-door, taller vehicle. Just don’t call it an SUV

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Practicality skinned and stretched over Ferrari’s sporting framework. The brand’s first four-seat, four-door, taller vehicle. Just don’t call it an SUV

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Practicality skinned and stretched over Ferrari’s sporting framework. The brand’s first four-seat, four-door, taller vehicle. Just don’t call it an SUV

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content.description[]
Practicality skinned and stretched over Ferrari’s sporting framework. The brand’s first four-seat

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content.description[]
taller vehicle. Just don’t call it an SUV

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content.description[]
Practicality skinned and stretched over Ferrari’s sporting framework. The brand’s first four-seat

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content.description[]
taller vehicle. Just don’t call it an SUV

# data.attributes.field_cars_driving.value
If you want to get really geeky about suspension, then the Purosangue is the car to get involved with, mainly thanks to a system that involves some lovely spool valves. Now without getting too technical and making your head explode, the suspension on the Purosangue uses what’s called a TrueActive spool valve (TASV) from Multimatic. Basically that’s an active – almost proactive – suspension system that uses two independent spool valves, one for compression, one for rebound, on each wheel.

Each damper assembly comes with its own control module dictated to by the Purosangue’s vehicle dynamics brain, so they work completely independently of each other. Plus there’s a 48-volt electrical system to help support the springs. Now that electric motor (one for each wheel don’t forget) delivers force into the damper shaft via a tiny gearbox assembly. Yep, that’s right, each wheel technically has its own gearbox.

But the best bit? It minimises weight, packaging space and rotational inertia while supplying the kind of suspension that can react faster and have a much broader range of abilities. So much so that you don’t actually need anti-roll bars anymore.

Erm. Ok. So what does that mean?

Body control, ride comfort, no need to change the ride height: it’s bleeding-edge stuff previously only seen in a different format on racing cars. In fact, the only road cars we’ve ever driven with spool valves are the Ford GT and Aston Martin One-77, and they weren’t as advanced as this.

The big question is, do they work?

Short answer, yes. And spectacularly. The longer answer involves a little bit of explanation. The steering is an interesting one: because good steering is a relationship between the wheel itself, and what happens with the car immediately afterwards; it can be undone in short order by poor body and damper control. Ferrari sportscars, more than pretty much anything else bar some Lotuses and racing cars, operate from the wrist. They require a mere flick to interpret intention, and have a habit of sticking to pretty much any line you like, no matter how aggressive you are. Direct sums it up in one word. Darty, if you haven’t driven one before.

The Purosangue, while exceptional, requires your forearms. There’s just more mass to move, a more positive declaration necessary from the wheel. You have to place the Purosangue, where you’d almost think a 296 GTB into position. This is not, however, a criticism. If the Purosangue was too light, too ridiculous in its immediacy, it would feel fake, and probably give you a slight feeling of motion sickness. Your inner ear often knows when electronics are feeding you false information.

So it's the perfect answer?

Not completely, no – but it has a bloomin’ good go at it. The Purosangue can nibble at the edges of a bad road at low speeds and bloodhound a severe camber, but with 23-inch rear tyres the width of a barrel (they’re 315/30s, the fronts are 255/35 R22s), that’s almost to be expected.

In fact, cruising along, the Purosangue feels benign, quiet, comfortable… easy. Because the steering is not as hyperactive as other Ferraris the Purosangue feels remarkably settled over long distances. Over a 400-mile steady-state cruise, there was no constant fidgeting to place the big Ferrari on the road. Even in ‘Sport’ mode it rides with accuracy. In fact the most pressing issue you’ll likely encounter on a big road trip is avoiding other road users desperate to film your every steering input. Gets a lot of attention, this thing.

So on the whole it’s a big GT companion that can hold its own with whatever you care to mention. Rear vision isn’t the best, and the V12 whirrs away without the low-rev bass you get from a V8, but that’s why God invented rear-view cameras and exhaust valves. Meanwhile it’s quiet inside, and the suspension packs immense cushioning into its limited travel.

So what's it good at?

Basically, where other SUVs run out of ideas, the Purosangue raises its game. The slightly staccato nature of the experience further up the V12’s rev range exposes new depths of ability. The Purosangue becomes a giant rally car that relishes the abuse, and steps up when things get exciting. And they do, because this is still a higher-riding car with well over 700bhp.

Not that you’d notice. It’s got feel, and precision, and an almost otherworldly sense of connection. It breathes its way down the road, rather than fights against it. One of the reasons for all the extra feel is that the all-wheel drive system appears to be extremely rearward-biased. On a dry road and under heavy load – say, accelerating out of a hairpin – the rear tyres will spin merrily before the front end is tugged back into line.

Similarly, this isn’t an off-roader: think of it as a rear-wheel drive car with a front-axle helper rather than something that can lock a diff. It would be a lightly spectacular (and expensive) desert racer. Albeit one with rear-wheel steer for posh hotel underground car bunkers. It’s also the first SUV we can recall that has nose lift on the options list. £4,109 if you were wondering.

And if you use that V12 to the fullest? It's not going to be cheap to fill up, is it?

Honestly, this is one of those situations where if you’re worried about the fuel economy figure of your V12 Ferrari, then you’re probably playing the wrong game. After one long day, the Purosangue swallowed 175 euros of Super Unleaded, and the 100-litre tank wasn’t completely empty. That’s one of the biggest tanks on the market, but you’ll still be on the hunt for fuel after about 280 miles.

# data.attributes.field_cars_driving.processed
If you want to get really geeky about suspension, then the Purosangue is the car to get involved with, mainly thanks to a system that involves some lovely spool valves. Now without getting too technical and making your head explode, the suspension on the Purosangue uses what’s called a TrueActive spool valve (TASV) from Multimatic. Basically that’s an active – almost proactive – suspension system that uses two independent spool valves, one for compression, one for rebound, on each wheel.

Each damper assembly comes with its own control module dictated to by the Purosangue’s vehicle dynamics brain, so they work completely independently of each other. Plus there’s a 48-volt electrical system to help support the springs. Now that electric motor (one for each wheel don’t forget) delivers force into the damper shaft via a tiny gearbox assembly. Yep, that’s right, each wheel technically has its own gearbox.

But the best bit? It minimises weight, packaging space and rotational inertia while supplying the kind of suspension that can react faster and have a much broader range of abilities. So much so that you don’t actually need anti-roll bars anymore.

Erm. Ok. So what does that mean?

Body control, ride comfort, no need to change the ride height: it’s bleeding-edge stuff previously only seen in a different format on racing cars. In fact, the only road cars we’ve ever driven with spool valves are the Ford GT and Aston Martin One-77, and they weren’t as advanced as this.

The big question is, do they work?

Short answer, yes. And spectacularly. The longer answer involves a little bit of explanation. The steering is an interesting one: because good steering is a relationship between the wheel itself, and what happens with the car immediately afterwards; it can be undone in short order by poor body and damper control. Ferrari sportscars, more than pretty much anything else bar some Lotuses and racing cars, operate from the wrist. They require a mere flick to interpret intention, and have a habit of sticking to pretty much any line you like, no matter how aggressive you are. Direct sums it up in one word. Darty, if you haven’t driven one before.

The Purosangue, while exceptional, requires your forearms. There’s just more mass to move, a more positive declaration necessary from the wheel. You have to place the Purosangue, where you’d almost think a 296 GTB into position. This is not, however, a criticism. If the Purosangue was too light, too ridiculous in its immediacy, it would feel fake, and probably give you a slight feeling of motion sickness. Your inner ear often knows when electronics are feeding you false information.

So it's the perfect answer?

Not completely, no – but it has a bloomin’ good go at it. The Purosangue can nibble at the edges of a bad road at low speeds and bloodhound a severe camber, but with 23-inch rear tyres the width of a barrel (they’re 315/30s, the fronts are 255/35 R22s), that’s almost to be expected.

In fact, cruising along, the Purosangue feels benign, quiet, comfortable… easy. Because the steering is not as hyperactive as other Ferraris the Purosangue feels remarkably settled over long distances. Over a 400-mile steady-state cruise, there was no constant fidgeting to place the big Ferrari on the road. Even in ‘Sport’ mode it rides with accuracy. In fact the most pressing issue you’ll likely encounter on a big road trip is avoiding other road users desperate to film your every steering input. Gets a lot of attention, this thing.

So on the whole it’s a big GT companion that can hold its own with whatever you care to mention. Rear vision isn’t the best, and the V12 whirrs away without the low-rev bass you get from a V8, but that’s why God invented rear-view cameras and exhaust valves. Meanwhile it’s quiet inside, and the suspension packs immense cushioning into its limited travel.

So what's it good at?

Basically, where other SUVs run out of ideas, the Purosangue raises its game. The slightly staccato nature of the experience further up the V12’s rev range exposes new depths of ability. The Purosangue becomes a giant rally car that relishes the abuse, and steps up when things get exciting. And they do, because this is still a higher-riding car with well over 700bhp.

Not that you’d notice. It’s got feel, and precision, and an almost otherworldly sense of connection. It breathes its way down the road, rather than fights against it. One of the reasons for all the extra feel is that the all-wheel drive system appears to be extremely rearward-biased. On a dry road and under heavy load – say, accelerating out of a hairpin – the rear tyres will spin merrily before the front end is tugged back into line.

Similarly, this isn’t an off-roader: think of it as a rear-wheel drive car with a front-axle helper rather than something that can lock a diff. It would be a lightly spectacular (and expensive) desert racer. Albeit one with rear-wheel steer for posh hotel underground car bunkers. It’s also the first SUV we can recall that has nose lift on the options list. £4,109 if you were wondering.

And if you use that V12 to the fullest? It's not going to be cheap to fill up, is it?

Honestly, this is one of those situations where if you’re worried about the fuel economy figure of your V12 Ferrari, then you’re probably playing the wrong game. After one long day, the Purosangue swallowed 175 euros of Super Unleaded, and the 100-litre tank wasn’t completely empty. That’s one of the biggest tanks on the market, but you’ll still be on the hunt for fuel after about 280 miles.

# data.attributes.field_cars_editor_title
Ferrari Purosangue review: the only SUV that truly deserves the name

# data.attributes.field_cars_inside.value
Up front there’s a twinned cockpit. The passenger gets their own screen to play with – and you don't even have to pay extra for it. There’s a new user interface and many threads of haptic annoyance. Everything looks very neat without buttons, but is that really the most intuitive user-experience?

Is that a rhetorical question?

Yes. The information screen ahead of the driver is configurable using the swipeable pad on the right-hand side of the steering wheel, and the rest is controlled on the rotary knob in the middle of the dash. Tap the top and it rises up, tap again to select a function, rotate to adjust.

Sounds simple, and it works. Standing still. Once moving, the whole set up is fiddly and the haptics inconsistent in reaction. And the car’s screen mirroring (which brings Apple CarPlay up in the dash) is built for touchscreen. Which this isn’t. Cue much swiping, looking down and general faff. In a car as fast and reactive as this, it’s not brilliant.

Put it this way: the Ferrari’s screen control thumb pad is even more irritating to operate than the DBX’s not-a-touchscreen. We don’t say this lightly: it often threatens to undermine your enjoyment of the whole car. In a daily driver the UX is a big deal and we don’t think Ferrari has nailed it at all.

In a car as fast as this, you don’t necessarily want to be looking down all the time to check you’re in the correct setting and place. Even the engine start is now a haptic pad at the base of the steering wheel. Firing the V12 should at least warrant something tactile you can push.

Ok, talk to me about practicality.

There’s enough space in the two rear seats and getting in and out via the rear-hinged doors is easy enough. And it’s not like an original Mini Clubman, you don’t have to open the front door first, nor put much effort in. The doors are electric. Pull a little tab on the outside and the door whirrs open for you. Once you’re in there’s a button to reverse the process.

It feels very sophisticated, and the rear seats are more spacious than you might imagine. They might not feel it as there’s not a lot of light coming in. So instead focus on the quality. It feels expensive and special in here. Even the 473-litre boot is beautifully trimmed. And yeah, it’s well judged for space – you will get four people’s luggage for a weekend away in the boot. Well, provided one of them isn’t Beyonce.

Unclip the luggage cover and rear bulkhead and they both stow in the boot floor, and from there you can drop the rear seats. It’s not a flat area, but certainly enough to carry a significant amount of stuff. Or a really big dog with excellent balance.

# data.attributes.field_cars_inside.processed
Up front there’s a twinned cockpit. The passenger gets their own screen to play with – and you don't even have to pay extra for it. There’s a new user interface and many threads of haptic annoyance. Everything looks very neat without buttons, but is that really the most intuitive user-experience?

Is that a rhetorical question?

Yes. The information screen ahead of the driver is configurable using the swipeable pad on the right-hand side of the steering wheel, and the rest is controlled on the rotary knob in the middle of the dash. Tap the top and it rises up, tap again to select a function, rotate to adjust.

Sounds simple, and it works. Standing still. Once moving, the whole set up is fiddly and the haptics inconsistent in reaction. And the car’s screen mirroring (which brings Apple CarPlay up in the dash) is built for touchscreen. Which this isn’t. Cue much swiping, looking down and general faff. In a car as fast and reactive as this, it’s not brilliant.

Put it this way: the Ferrari’s screen control thumb pad is even more irritating to operate than the DBX’s not-a-touchscreen. We don’t say this lightly: it often threatens to undermine your enjoyment of the whole car. In a daily driver the UX is a big deal and we don’t think Ferrari has nailed it at all.

In a car as fast as this, you don’t necessarily want to be looking down all the time to check you’re in the correct setting and place. Even the engine start is now a haptic pad at the base of the steering wheel. Firing the V12 should at least warrant something tactile you can push.

Ok, talk to me about practicality.

There’s enough space in the two rear seats and getting in and out via the rear-hinged doors is easy enough. And it’s not like an original Mini Clubman, you don’t have to open the front door first, nor put much effort in. The doors are electric. Pull a little tab on the outside and the door whirrs open for you. Once you’re in there’s a button to reverse the process.

It feels very sophisticated, and the rear seats are more spacious than you might imagine. They might not feel it as there’s not a lot of light coming in. So instead focus on the quality. It feels expensive and special in here. Even the 473-litre boot is beautifully trimmed. And yeah, it’s well judged for space – you will get four people’s luggage for a weekend away in the boot. Well, provided one of them isn’t Beyonce.

Unclip the luggage cover and rear bulkhead and they both stow in the boot floor, and from there you can drop the rear seats. It’s not a flat area, but certainly enough to carry a significant amount of stuff. Or a really big dog with excellent balance.

# data.attributes.field_cars_owning.value
So what’s the damage for all of this Ferrari-ness? Well, the Purosangue costs from £313,360 in the UK, but get jiggy with the very long options list – as many owners can’t resist – and you can easily hit £400k.

If you want carbon fibre for the undercut wheelarches, then they’re £5,342. Carbon rear diffuser? Seven and a bit grand. Even the carbon fibre instrument cluster is £5,136. The photochromic panoramic roof (standard is carbon) that helps lighten the interior costs roughly the same as a new Dacia Duster at 12 and a half grand.

Special paint is 22 and a half. And the Design spec is over 57 and a half. We know a lot of Ferrari customers don’t necessarily count the pennies, but sheesh. Oddly – for an SUV – the Purosangue seems to really suit brighter colours. And a bright red version looks delightful with contrasting black arches and sills.

Interestingly, given that Ferrari was initially a little shy with the whole SUV thing, once potential owners caught wind that this would be a V12, the order book swelled. Apparently there’s a two year-plus order queue already. And we know how buyers in this bracket love waiting for their new cars. Expect to see brand new cars being flipped for ridiculous mark-ups.

Insurance and running costs will be via specialist brokers, but if you have to ask, you probably can’t afford it. Among all of that, you could argue that this would be all the Ferrari you ever need, but it feels more like the Ferrari you buy to complement your stable of lots of other Ferraris. Rich people problems.

# data.attributes.field_cars_owning.processed
So what’s the damage for all of this Ferrari-ness? Well, the Purosangue costs from £313,360 in the UK, but get jiggy with the very long options list – as many owners can’t resist – and you can easily hit £400k.

If you want carbon fibre for the undercut wheelarches, then they’re £5,342. Carbon rear diffuser? Seven and a bit grand. Even the carbon fibre instrument cluster is £5,136. The photochromic panoramic roof (standard is carbon) that helps lighten the interior costs roughly the same as a new Dacia Duster at 12 and a half grand.

Special paint is 22 and a half. And the Design spec is over 57 and a half. We know a lot of Ferrari customers don’t necessarily count the pennies, but sheesh. Oddly – for an SUV – the Purosangue seems to really suit brighter colours. And a bright red version looks delightful with contrasting black arches and sills.

Interestingly, given that Ferrari was initially a little shy with the whole SUV thing, once potential owners caught wind that this would be a V12, the order book swelled. Apparently there’s a two year-plus order queue already. And we know how buyers in this bracket love waiting for their new cars. Expect to see brand new cars being flipped for ridiculous mark-ups.

Insurance and running costs will be via specialist brokers, but if you have to ask, you probably can’t afford it. Among all of that, you could argue that this would be all the Ferrari you ever need, but it feels more like the Ferrari you buy to complement your stable of lots of other Ferraris. Rich people problems.

# data.attributes.field_cars_stand_first
Ferrari doesn't want you to call the Purosangue an SUV, but what else screams 'sport' like a 6.5-litre V12 with 715bhp?

# data.attributes.field_cars_verdict.value
Ferrari seems slightly insecure about the Purosangue, probably because it originally said it wouldn’t play in this particular arena. It’s also a bit toppy, even for this rarefied atmosphere. £313k isn’t pocket change for a series production car no matter how profligate the oligarch.

But the company really shouldn’t feel awkward. Technology has moved on, the market has matured, and the Purosangue offers something that Ferrari buyers have thus far been unable to access: a genuine daily Ferrari with four usable, accessible seats.

The good bit is that the Purosangue leans heavily towards Ferrari’s core proposition with an added dose of daily useability, rather than a re-cloaked SUV. It’s impressive, and certainly the most convincing ‘SUV’. Ironically, it’s probably the only one that really deserves the name.

# data.attributes.field_cars_verdict.processed
Ferrari seems slightly insecure about the Purosangue, probably because it originally said it wouldn’t play in this particular arena. It’s also a bit toppy, even for this rarefied atmosphere. £313k isn’t pocket change for a series production car no matter how profligate the oligarch.

But the company really shouldn’t feel awkward. Technology has moved on, the market has matured, and the Purosangue offers something that Ferrari buyers have thus far been unable to access: a genuine daily Ferrari with four usable, accessible seats.

The good bit is that the Purosangue leans heavily towards Ferrari’s core proposition with an added dose of daily useability, rather than a re-cloaked SUV. It’s impressive, and certainly the most convincing ‘SUV’. Ironically, it’s probably the only one that really deserves the name.

# data.attributes.field_cars_verdict_against
Four-seat only, wince-inducing fuel economy, limited ground clearance and off-road ability, not cheap

# data.attributes.field_cars_verdict_for
Fast, noisy, genuinely impressive on-road dynamics, feels like a Ferrari

# data.attributes.field_cars_verdict_text
The Purosangue offers something that Ferrari buyers have thus far been unable to access: a genuine daily Ferrari

# data.attributes.field_cars_what_is_it.value
Purosangue; it translates directly as ‘pure blood’ but once you’ve finessed the Italian translation a little bit, resolves more like ‘thoroughbred’. Apt for a brand whose identity is forever recognised as a famously flouncy horse, and something of a departure for the maker of supercars. Mainly because Ferrari’s first attempt at a more practical, higher-riding vehicle has produced a four-door, four-seat, four-wheel drive SUV with a 6.5-litre V12 stuffed under the bonnet.

Except Ferrari doesn’t think the Purosangue should really be considered an SUV. It claims it defines a new genre, and is a thing all on its own. Cue much debate: if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck…

But much as it pains us to say it, Ferrari may have a point.

How so?

Well, with the proliferation of hyper-SUVs such as the Lamborghini Urus and Aston Martin DBX 707, there’s a conversation to be had about what ‘sports’ actually means – because most of them simply batter physics around the head with electronics and power. Fun hammers, yes. Scalpels they are not.

The Purosangue bucks trends. You could argue that in following the SUV acronym to the letter, it’s the purest, most genuine SUV there is. It really is properly sporting. It’s four-seat only, with the rear accommodation (accessed via rear-hinged doors) as plush as the front. The 715bhp, 6.5-litre V12 – a cylinder layout unique since the Lamborghini LM002 went out of production and the Q7 V12 TDI died – has various bits commandeered from the Ferrari parts bin (and that’s a parts bin worth plundering) and is stuffed so far up under the bulkhead, the last two cylinders should warm your knees.

It’s front-mid-engined, and it shows. The eight-speed, paddle-operated gearbox is at the back, with a power take-off unit (largely borrowed from the GTC4 Lusso) operating a pair of clutches to power each front wheel. Although that four-wheel drive feels very much a helper, rather than for mud-plugging. This is a car that is very rear-wheel drive in most circumstances.

That sounds very Ferrari. What else is new?

There’s a fresh take on an interior, new ways to interact with the systems (see the Interior section for a bit more detail on that), and a very clever suspension system that’s allows the Purosangue to both handle like a Ferrari should and provide the kind of GT comfort that an SUV buyer might actually want. Head to the Driving tab for that bit.

Before you go, it’s worth knowing there is no hybrid assistance whatsoever, so nothing to alleviate the considerable fuel consumption. The figures are some of the worst we’ve seen in a long time: 393g/km of CO2 and combined fuel economy of 16.3mpg.

But here are the other numbers you want: 0-62mph in 3.3 seconds and a top speed of 193mph. And one final one: £313,360. That’s the base price, and given Ferrari’s attitude to options, it means few Purosangues are going to emerge costing less than £400k.

This is purposeful. Ferrari is deliberately trying (and succeeding since the waiting list is claimed to be two years long), to position itself above any other rival. The only car than can compete on cost (and is that really a competition you want to win?), is the Rolls-Royce Cullinan.

How does it compare to rivals?

If you put cost to one side, the Purosangue dominates the Urus/DBX opposition. For starters, it doesn’t have to use existing components borrowed from other brands. The Urus obviously shares platforms, engines and more with Bentley, Audi and Porsche, while Aston borrows powertrain tech from Merc. Both – and in fact all rivals – have stuck to a traditional SUV layout that puts practicality and space first. The Purosangue doesn’t. It’s puts Ferrari-ness first and then works out what space it can carve out without losing the essential essence.

But boy is it a lot of money for a car that isn’t really any faster than a DBX 707 or Urus Performante. Though it does drive better than both. The purity of that V12, the uncanny ride quality, the accuracy and poise – it’s something the hyper SUV class hasn’t seen before.

Is it just lifted, or genuinely useful?

Useful, actually… to a point. When it comes to the real-life aspect of living with the Purosangue, there’s a hatchback and a 473-litre boot which, although not overly large, has the ability to expand by dropping the seats electrically. It’s not a totally flat loadspace and it’s not huge, but certainly enough for a few boxes. There will also be a series of accessories made of fabulously expensive carbon fibre, obviously, which will allow for bike and ski carriage. It’s as practical as it can be while still retaining a semblance of Ferrari-ness. In context, it feels like midway between a big GT and an SUV.

# data.attributes.field_cars_what_is_it.processed
Purosangue; it translates directly as ‘pure blood’ but once you’ve finessed the Italian translation a little bit, resolves more like ‘thoroughbred’. Apt for a brand whose identity is forever recognised as a famously flouncy horse, and something of a departure for the maker of supercars. Mainly because Ferrari’s first attempt at a more practical, higher-riding vehicle has produced a four-door, four-seat, four-wheel drive SUV with a 6.5-litre V12 stuffed under the bonnet.

Except Ferrari doesn’t think the Purosangue should really be considered an SUV. It claims it defines a new genre, and is a thing all on its own. Cue much debate: if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck…

But much as it pains us to say it, Ferrari may have a point.

How so?

Well, with the proliferation of hyper-SUVs such as the Lamborghini Urus and Aston Martin DBX 707, there’s a conversation to be had about what ‘sports’ actually means – because most of them simply batter physics around the head with electronics and power. Fun hammers, yes. Scalpels they are not.

The Purosangue bucks trends. You could argue that in following the SUV acronym to the letter, it’s the purest, most genuine SUV there is. It really is properly sporting. It’s four-seat only, with the rear accommodation (accessed via rear-hinged doors) as plush as the front. The 715bhp, 6.5-litre V12 – a cylinder layout unique since the Lamborghini LM002 went out of production and the Q7 V12 TDI died – has various bits commandeered from the Ferrari parts bin (and that’s a parts bin worth plundering) and is stuffed so far up under the bulkhead, the last two cylinders should warm your knees.

It’s front-mid-engined, and it shows. The eight-speed, paddle-operated gearbox is at the back, with a power take-off unit (largely borrowed from the GTC4 Lusso) operating a pair of clutches to power each front wheel. Although that four-wheel drive feels very much a helper, rather than for mud-plugging. This is a car that is very rear-wheel drive in most circumstances.

That sounds very Ferrari. What else is new?

There’s a fresh take on an interior, new ways to interact with the systems (see the Interior section for a bit more detail on that), and a very clever suspension system that’s allows the Purosangue to both handle like a Ferrari should and provide the kind of GT comfort that an SUV buyer might actually want. Head to the Driving tab for that bit.

Before you go, it’s worth knowing there is no hybrid assistance whatsoever, so nothing to alleviate the considerable fuel consumption. The figures are some of the worst we’ve seen in a long time: 393g/km of CO2 and combined fuel economy of 16.3mpg.

But here are the other numbers you want: 0-62mph in 3.3 seconds and a top speed of 193mph. And one final one: £313,360. That’s the base price, and given Ferrari’s attitude to options, it means few Purosangues are going to emerge costing less than £400k.

This is purposeful. Ferrari is deliberately trying (and succeeding since the waiting list is claimed to be two years long), to position itself above any other rival. The only car than can compete on cost (and is that really a competition you want to win?), is the Rolls-Royce Cullinan.

How does it compare to rivals?

If you put cost to one side, the Purosangue dominates the Urus/DBX opposition. For starters, it doesn’t have to use existing components borrowed from other brands. The Urus obviously shares platforms, engines and more with Bentley, Audi and Porsche, while Aston borrows powertrain tech from Merc. Both – and in fact all rivals – have stuck to a traditional SUV layout that puts practicality and space first. The Purosangue doesn’t. It’s puts Ferrari-ness first and then works out what space it can carve out without losing the essential essence.

But boy is it a lot of money for a car that isn’t really any faster than a DBX 707 or Urus Performante. Though it does drive better than both. The purity of that V12, the uncanny ride quality, the accuracy and poise – it’s something the hyper SUV class hasn’t seen before.

Is it just lifted, or genuinely useful?

Useful, actually… to a point. When it comes to the real-life aspect of living with the Purosangue, there’s a hatchback and a 473-litre boot which, although not overly large, has the ability to expand by dropping the seats electrically. It’s not a totally flat loadspace and it’s not huge, but certainly enough for a few boxes. There will also be a series of accessories made of fabulously expensive carbon fibre, obviously, which will allow for bike and ski carriage. It’s as practical as it can be while still retaining a semblance of Ferrari-ness. In context, it feels like midway between a big GT and an SUV.

# data.attributes.field_cars_what_we_say
Practicality skinned and stretched over Ferrari’s sporting framework. The brand’s first four-seat, four-door, taller vehicle. Just don’t call it an SUV