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Top Gear's greatest cars of the last 30 years: Ferrari F355 and Ferrari 458

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Top Gear's greatest cars of the last 30 years: Ferrari F355 and Ferrari 458 | Top Gear

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A supercar getting our Car of the Year nod is a rare event, but two Ferraris have managed it. What is it that makes them so special?

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Top Gear's greatest cars of the last 30 years: Ferrari F355 and Ferrari 458

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A supercar getting our Car of the Year nod is a rare event, but two Ferraris have managed it. What is it that makes them so special?

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A supercar getting our Car of the Year nod is a rare event, but two Ferraris have managed it. What is it that makes them so special?

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Top Gear's greatest cars of the last 30 years: Ferrari F355 and Ferrari 458

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Top Gear's greatest cars of the last 30 years: Ferrari F355 and Ferrari 458

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Top Gear's greatest cars of the last 30 years: Ferrari F355 and Ferrari 458

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A supercar getting our Car of the Year nod is a rare event, but two Ferraris have managed it. What is it that makes them so special?

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We got these two right. These are the best mid-engined V8 Ferraris there have ever been. No ifs or buts. I’d love to know the mindsets of the men that created them, because both are astonishing pieces of engineering. You’re probably aware of the rough background to the F355. It followed on from the 348, a car that had the misfortune to arrive at the same time as the Honda NSX, which proved not only more usable, but also friendlier at the limit and with an equally compelling engine.

The F355 GTB (B for Berlinetta coupe, the open air GTS had a lift-out roof panel) was Ferrari’s riposte, its demonstration that it could rise above the Japanese upstart. Fundamentally, not much was new. It used the same base V8 engine, just with a little more swept volume, but up top there was a radically different set of heads with five valves per cylinder: three inlet and two exhaust. Power from the 3.5-litre engine jumped from 296 to 375bhp, taking the F355 beyond the fabled 100bhp per litre benchmark, while the 0–62mph time stood at 4.7secs.

The handling was sympathetically and skilfully tweaked and the styling – oh the styling! – has there been a prettier Ferrari than this? I thought the 458 Italia was a high water mark, but seeing it next to the F355, I’m not so sure. The stubby proportions are just perfect, the stance gloriously planted, I think the rear end is essentially unimprovable. And the detailing, too – I’d forgotten the rear glass curves tightly round into the buttresses. I dread to think what a replacement would cost, how you’d go about sourcing it, but it’s a real statement piece and bathes the cockpit in light.

Of course there’s an open gate with a magic wand of a manual lever to cast spells with, and of course the driving position is curious, with the steering wheel tilted away. But as a thing to drive, it’s divine. Not as playful as the 458, but for sheer communication and emotion it’s even better. Indulge the revs (an 8,500rpm redline, so there’s plenty of them to play with and max torque doesn’t arrive until 6,000rpm) and the engine is unlike any other, as smooth as a straight six, utterly intoxicating to have poured into your ears.

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It has that in common with the 458. By the time this came along to blow TG away in 2009 the engine capacity had swelled another litre and power had climbed almost 200bhp. The 458 remains a... no, the high water mark, never to be repeated, the zenith of natural aspiration. OK, so we’d bid ciao to the manual (although one or two companies would come along to retro-engineer one in), but the paddleshift box was a doozy and the handling was transcendental. It drives like the world’s best go-kart: darty, urgent yet poised front end followed by an eager, excitable rear. It’s surely got one of the brightest, most dazzling chassis ever fitted to a road car.

We always think twice before awarding a supercar our Car of the Year title. These exotic, rare cars are essentially unaffordable, they have the potential to alienate as well as attract. Neither a Porsche 911 nor a Lamborghini has ever won our top award, and yet two Ferraris have. We didn’t make those awards lightly, we made them because the cars were genuinely exceptional and remain so to this day. I’m not sure there’s a modern supercar I want to own more than one of these.

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We got these two right. These are the best mid-engined V8 Ferraris there have ever been. No ifs or buts. I’d love to know the mindsets of the men that created them, because both are astonishing pieces of engineering. You’re probably aware of the rough background to the F355. It followed on from the 348, a car that had the misfortune to arrive at the same time as the Honda NSX, which proved not only more usable, but also friendlier at the limit and with an equally compelling engine.

The F355 GTB (B for Berlinetta coupe, the open air GTS had a lift-out roof panel) was Ferrari’s riposte, its demonstration that it could rise above the Japanese upstart. Fundamentally, not much was new. It used the same base V8 engine, just with a little more swept volume, but up top there was a radically different set of heads with five valves per cylinder: three inlet and two exhaust. Power from the 3.5-litre engine jumped from 296 to 375bhp, taking the F355 beyond the fabled 100bhp per litre benchmark, while the 0–62mph time stood at 4.7secs.

The handling was sympathetically and skilfully tweaked and the styling – oh the styling! – has there been a prettier Ferrari than this? I thought the 458 Italia was a high water mark, but seeing it next to the F355, I’m not so sure. The stubby proportions are just perfect, the stance gloriously planted, I think the rear end is essentially unimprovable. And the detailing, too – I’d forgotten the rear glass curves tightly round into the buttresses. I dread to think what a replacement would cost, how you’d go about sourcing it, but it’s a real statement piece and bathes the cockpit in light.

Of course there’s an open gate with a magic wand of a manual lever to cast spells with, and of course the driving position is curious, with the steering wheel tilted away. But as a thing to drive, it’s divine. Not as playful as the 458, but for sheer communication and emotion it’s even better. Indulge the revs (an 8,500rpm redline, so there’s plenty of them to play with and max torque doesn’t arrive until 6,000rpm) and the engine is unlike any other, as smooth as a straight six, utterly intoxicating to have poured into your ears.

It has that in common with the 458. By the time this came along to blow TG away in 2009 the engine capacity had swelled another litre and power had climbed almost 200bhp. The 458 remains a... no, the high water mark, never to be repeated, the zenith of natural aspiration. OK, so we’d bid ciao to the manual (although one or two companies would come along to retro-engineer one in), but the paddleshift box was a doozy and the handling was transcendental. It drives like the world’s best go-kart: darty, urgent yet poised front end followed by an eager, excitable rear. It’s surely got one of the brightest, most dazzling chassis ever fitted to a road car.

We always think twice before awarding a supercar our Car of the Year title. These exotic, rare cars are essentially unaffordable, they have the potential to alienate as well as attract. Neither a Porsche 911 nor a Lamborghini has ever won our top award, and yet two Ferraris have. We didn’t make those awards lightly, we made them because the cars were genuinely exceptional and remain so to this day. I’m not sure there’s a modern supercar I want to own more than one of these.

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A supercar getting our Car of the Year nod is a rare event, but two Ferraris have managed it. What is it that makes them so special?