Talk about a California special.

Ferrari has released the first official photographs of its sexy, V-8 powered Ferrari California grand tourer.

Available exclusively as a folding hard top convertible, the California's chassis and bodywork are all-aluminum, and the car's front-mounted, 4.3-liter, 454-hp direct injection V-8 is coupled to a 7-speed dual clutch transmission. With more power than a Maserati Granturismo S, Ferrari says the California should sprint from 0 to 60 mph in less than 4.0 seconds.

A new multilink rear suspension system enhances the Ferrari's ride comfort, and the California is also equipped with the exclusive F1-Trac traction control system (which debuted on the 599 GTB Fiorano). Brembo brakes with carbon-ceramic discs will come standard.

Complementing the Ferrari's classic styling cues is a cabin lined with new seats, steering wheel, instrument panel and infotainment system.

More information about the California should be available before the car is officially unveiled at the Paris auto show.

To support Ferrari's two-car effort at every Formula One event, sponsor and technical partner Shell brings not only the fuels and lubricants needed for the weekend, but also experts to help keep the engines screaming and the gearboxes whirring. Lisa Lilley, armed with a PhD in chemical engineering, is Shell's technology manager for Ferrari. Fuel scientist Mike Evans and two technicians make sure the carefully blended V-Power gasoline and the Shell Helix lubricants adhere to the letter of the rules while maintaining peak performance.

Shell brings over 500 gallons of gasoline and 500 pounds of lubricants to each event in sealed containers, plus a 10-foot by 10-foot shack to store its materials trackside. A portable laboratory built into the back half of a Ferrari double-decker trailer is also transported to every race. More than 66,000 gallons of fuel are shipped around the globe throughout the racing season.

Using sophisticated gas chromatograph equipment, the Shell team tests fuel samples 40 or so times per race to make sure there is no contamination by residual fuel left in a Ferrari Formula One car's tank or by errant cleaning materials. The FIA also conducts tests to make sure that every team's fuel supply stays within strict constituent and octane limits. This year every competitor must use "biofuel" containing 5.75-percent ethanol.

Lubricant samples are drawn from the engine and the gearbox each time a Ferrari returns to the pits. A rotating-disc-electrode analyzer identifies the presence of wear metals and contaminants. Monitoring any rise of these metals allows Ferrari to accurately predict when an engine or transmission failure is imminent. That's a major strategic advantage because there's a new rule this year requiring that each engine must last two races while gearboxes have to remain in service for four events. The penalty for early removal is 10 places on the starting grid for an engine change and 5 places for a transmission swap.

While some sponsors merely tag along for the publicity, Shell's longstanding commitment runs deeper. V-Power is the lifeblood that sustains Ferrari's shriek from the starting grid to the checkered flag.

To call an old Ferrari or a classic Duesenberg a "no-stories car" is to confer on it the astute collector's highest compliment. Unless, that is, you're John Delamater, the legendary salesman described by one of his colleagues as "an absolute magician."

During the past sixty years, working out of a three-bedroom apartment in Carmel, Indiana, Delamater has personally sold or brokered the sale of everything from a Bugatti Type 57 to a BMW 507, a Cunningham C-3 to a Birdcage Maserati, not to mention hundreds of jaw-dropping Ferraris. And you know what? Every one of his cars came with a story.

Here's Delamater on how he ended up with his first Ferrari: "I'd bought a Kurtis - a correct two-man sports car, deep maroon with a tan interior - from an older fellow who owned a trucking company here in town. He'd done a lot of tasteful things to the car - leather seats, just like in the Indianapolis cars; leather roll pad; a headrest on the roll bar; Stewart Warner instruments in a black Lucite dash. I bought it on a whim. This would have been back in 1959.

"But when I was driving through Louisville, I saw a Facel Vega at the Hudson franchise. That Hudson dealer was fascinated with the Kurtis, so I traded him for the Facel Vega and $300. The Facel Vega had been a show car owned by Max Hoffman, the importer. It had a hot Chrysler Hemi in it, and it was a fine car, except that the power steering kept acting up.

"So I ended up trading it for a Ferrari 250 Mille Miglia, and I mean a real one, owned by a young boy down in Beckley, West Virginia - a most unlikely place to find a 250 Mille Miglia. He'd gotten it from Rich Lyeth out of Detroit, whose people had designed a limited-slip rear differential and sold the patent to General Motors. It was a 3.0-liter with a Vignale body and three four-barrels. It was probably the fastest car I ever owned. I sure wish I owned it today."

Now eighty-four and semiretired, Delamater has trimmed his fleet to a late-model Cadillac DeVille and two 1970 Caddy land yachts. He still sells a car now and then - a fiberglass 308, a one-off Dino with a four-valve head from a Lancia Stratos, a lovely Porsche 356 Speedster. In the living room of his apartment in suburban Indianapolis, he keeps an issue of Sports Car Market, the bible of the collector-car industry, and a Kelley Blue Book (plus a Mitch Miller sing-along LP). But he doesn't have much use for the way the business is conducted these days, with its price guides and self-appointed experts and ubiquitous auctions. Delamater preferred the personal touch, and in his heyday, nobody did it better than honest John.

"He knew everybody, and he knew where the cars were," says John Clinard, who's bought seven cars from Delamater, including a one-of-a-kind Pininfarina-bodied Ferrari 250 cabriolet. "Back in the days before there was a large body of knowledge about Ferraris, John was a consummate authority, because he'd had a lot of personal, behind-the-wheel experience with those cars, and when he said something, you could count on it. Norman Silver told me, `He's the best man in the business, the only person I'll buy a car from over the phone.' "

Kirk F. White, who bought his first Ferrari from Delamater and went on to become one of the premier collector-car dealers in the country, is another member of the Delamater fan club. "He's the most remarkable salesman I've ever come across," says White. "He came up with the most amazing automobiles, and he had a tremendous ability to paint a verbal picture of them. About halfway through his spiels, I always wanted him to stop so I could say, `OK.' I can't think of a single car of his that I ever said no to, and I never lost a penny on anything I bought from or with him."

Like any great salesman, Delamater prefers to talk about his products rather than himself, so it's difficult to know what sparked his interest in classic cars. But one of his first acts after returning to Indiana after a stint in the Navy during World War II was to buy a 1941 Chevrolet Master Deluxe two-door sedan. During the next five years, he went through no fewer than twenty-three cars, among them a V-16-powered Cadillac he picked up for $650. Mind you, he was still working a day job as an industrial salesman. He didn't start selling cars full time until 1969.

Delamater was inducted into the Ferrari brotherhood in 1956, when he stumbled across an untitled, ex-Masten Gregory 4.1-liter racing car that had been wrecked by a joy-riding mechanic and rebodied in flimsy 18-gauge (.040-inch) aluminum. In short order, he saw it, drove it, and brokered it to a trust-fund Floridian. Aside from the occasional classic or Cobra or Shelby Mustang, he never again dealt seriously in American iron.

By 1961, Delamater owned a trio of Ferraris - a 166 Mille Miglia Vignale coupe, a 166 Touring coupe, and the aforementioned 250 Mille Miglia spyder. So it was only natural that he should be one of the founders of the Ferrari Club of America, and in an era before published registries and detailed chassis histories, he emerged as one of the arbiters of what Ferraris ought to be. "What a walking book of knowledge he is," says Ed Dalton, owner of Classic Car Carrier, which transports collector cars to shows all over the country. "It's amazing to watch him walk up to a car and stare at it for a bit and then say, `This is not quite right.' "

Delamater has always been an enthusiast first and foremost, and even today his passion for cars imbues him with energy that's remarkable for a man his age. Yes, he's frail, and his memory isn't as sharp as it used to be, but he seems to grow younger as he leafs through the scrapbooks in his living room, and each car elicits a seemingly endless supply of anecdotes, mechanical details, and purchase and sale prices.

Here's a photo of a 250 Coupe Speciale built for a Belgian princess ("I drove it up here from New Orleans"). Next comes Superfast I, the 1956 Paris auto-show car ("Everything about that car was scaled up, even the size of the prancing horse"). He waxes poetic about a 330 LM Berlinetta ("It was the same as a GTO with the exception of the cab, which was off a Lusso. I think they made four of them"). He reprises some 250 Monza lore ("It had three four-barrels; velocity stacks, of course; a transaxle-type rear end; and instead of two distributors, it had two magnetos. I got it out in Long Island for $2800. It sold at one of the Monterey auctions a few years ago for a million seven-hundred-five thousand").

He lingers over a basket-case Alfa Romeo 6C 1500, a rust bucket that he recognized as a diamond in the rough. "It was completely correct," he recalls. "It had never been painted. The dark red leather was original. The Pirelli tires were so petrified that I couldn't stick my knife into them. I got it from a doctor who'd been in Tunisia with the Army. He'd bought it from a Britisher who couldn't take the car home with him. So the doctor brought it back to southern Indiana in a crate, and it sat in his garage. I paid him $4200 or something like that. I shipped it to Kirk White, and he traded it to Luigi Chinetti. And you know what Luigi shipped him back? A brand-new Daytona!" That Daytona, coincidentally, was driven to victory in the first Cannonball race by Dan Gurney and Brock Yates.

It's hard to imagine now, when collector cars are treated like prized pieces of fine art, but there used to be a time when most collectors couldn't have cared less about Ferraris, and millions of Americans lived their entire lives without ever once seeing one on TV, much less in person. Ferraris were impractical and uncomfortable and relatively expensive, and the only people willing to put up with them were hard-core types who bought them as drivers, not as investments to be coddled in climate-controlled garages while values appreciated.

Since demand was scarce, the prices of used Ferraris were - by modern standards - ridiculously low. This was a double-edged sword for Delamater. Today, there's no way a middle-class working man could cruise around, as Delamater has, in Ferraris and Maseratis and Lamborghinis and Bizzarrinis and Intermeccanicas and Iso Grifos and Siatas and De Tomasos and Lancias and Alfas and Fiats, to name just the Italian marques he's bought and sold. But he had to hustle to earn enough money to support his wife, Mary, and send two kids to college.

"I based my sale price on what I paid for it, and I never sold a car for more than I would have paid to buy it back," he says. "If I purchased it for, say, $3500, and I could get $4200 or $4600 out of it, I thought that was good. Naturally, I had to sell a hell of a lot of cars. How long could you live on a $600 or $800 profit? But I was satisfied because I loved cars and I could make a little bit of money off of them."

Delamater was winding down his career just as Ferrari prices started skyrocketing. He made some big scores near the end, most notably with a 250 Tour de France and the Princess Liliana de Rethy coupe, but he missed out on the real bonanza. "If I'd been smart and kept some cars," he says, "I could have several million dollars today, which I don't, and I can't blame anybody but myself. But there's no use sitting around thinking of what might have been. I've got a little money saved up, and anyway, I liked the business better back then."

After this brief flurry of self-reflection, Delamater turns the page of his scrapbook and pauses over the photo of a prewar gem. "That's a little '34 Le Mans Aston Martin. Boy, that was a nice car - one-and-a-half liters with two little SU carburetors. I sold it to an attorney in Battle Creek, Michigan." Which reminds him of a Jaguar XK120 that competed in the Monte Carlo Rally, which leads to a Jaguar C-type that raced at Le Mans, which segues into a D-Jag that he could have bought, except he thought that the $6000 asking price was too high.

Delamater chuckles at the follies of youth and turns another page.

Gone But Not Forgotten

One of the secrets of Delamater's success was that he never allowed himself to get too emotionally attached to any of his cars. But here are ten sales he wishes he could unwind:

1. 1931 Cadillac V-16 Fleetwood All-weather Phaeton
2. 1952 Siata 200CS Roadster
3. 1953 Ferrari 250 Mille Miglia Vignale Spyder
4. 1953 Cunningham C-3 Coupe
5. 1954 Ferrari 250 Monza
6. 1956 Porsche 356 Speedster
7. 1956 Ferrari Superfast I
8. 1958 Ferrari 250 Pininfarina Cabriolet
9. 1965 Shelby Cobra 427 S/C
10. 1972 Ferrari Dino 246 Le Mans Racer

When a particularly picky Ferrari customer wants the cabin of his new dream machine to match his current girlfriend's favorite handbag, the factory in Maranello puts in a call to Simone Schedoni. When a Lamborghini owner wants tailor-made luggage in the same color as his just-ordered LP640, the representative from Sant'Agata sends him ten miles down the road to Simone Schedoni. When Horacio Pagani accepts the order for the next Zonda supercar - chassis number 96, if we're not mistaken - he'll make sure that the client meets with Simone Schedoni, not only to choose the type and color of leather, which can be as extreme as red ostrich or green lizard, but also to customize the shape of the seats. That's how papa Schedoni got involved in motorsports back in 1983, when Enzo Ferrari tricked him into supplying free Formula 1 seat trim in exchange for a prominent display of the company's logo on every racing car.

Twenty-five years later, F1 is still a major showcase for the small family enterprise that employs forty-eight craftspeople in two locations in Italy. In addition to Ferrari, Schedoni recently agreed to extend its services to Scuderia Toro Rosso (Red Bull's second F1 team, which uses Ferrari engines), and this time one can assume that money will flow. Perched next to Simone's desk is a heap of well-used, brown and black, made-to-measure F1 seat covers, which typically last only three to four races. Is real leather out of place in this high-tech environment? "Absolutely not," protests il presidente. "Even when impregnated for inflammability, hide is the perfect body-hugging, moisture-absorbing, naturally expanding material. The fact that it wears makes it comfortable for the drivers." Prominently displayed thank-you notes from such great racers as René Arnoux, Alain Prost, Gerhard Berger, and Michael Schumacher support the maestro's point. The day prior to our visit, Toro Rosso driver Sebastian Vettel had his measurements taken before signing the celebrity wall in the main factory building.

The name Schedoni is perhaps best known for the luggage the firm makes to order for all present Ferraris and past models dating back to the 1977 mid-engine 308. Only recently, Simone bought back the original car for which his father had designed the firm's very first three-piece set of flush-fitting suitcases. Early in the game, the company also offered full interior treatments boasting its trademark amber "cuoio" leather. But this bird did not fly. "Untouched by chemicals and totally natural in every respect, this leather changes color when exposed to the sun," explains Simone. "It doesn't comply with any fogging regulations, and it quickly develops a specific patina. To the product-liability guys, these characteristics are like a red rag to a bull. That's why our cuoio leather is fitted only on special request." To understand the difference between natural leather and treated leather, you need to examine the different processes.

Cuoio is dry-rolled for thirty-six hours in special oak barrels, using a secret mix of chestwood and mimosa powder, along with natural wax and a few tons of water to finish off the tanning procedure. In contrast, industry-grade hide is first mechanically peeled to eliminate cosmetic defects such as insect bites, and then this homogenous surface is either sprayed with several layers of paint or vat-dyed.

Which leather would you rather sit on? Exactly.

"We use only the shoulder parts of the cow, where the skin is particularly smooth, even, and virtually damage-free," says Simone. "The scarred flanks, which act as the animal's all-around bumpers, are sent straight on to the big tanneries." Stored in fifteen-foot-high open racks and in large metal cabinets are the patterns for all Ferrari seats, including limited-edition models such as the F40 and the Enzo, and for all luggage kits. Requests for a cuoio retrim on new and used vehicles come in quite frequently, but the Modenese artists can also cope with exotic special orders, like the wall-to-wall alligator interior that an American customer insisted on for his factory-fresh yellow F430 Spider. That job required finding twenty-nine hard-to-match hides and eight months of skilled labor. "Such rare materials are priced by width, not by length. One inch costs about $115, so a full conversion definitely doesn't come cheap."

We learn that python skin is actually less expensive than most quadruped coats - unless you combine it with lizard and perforated ostrich, as did the owner of the Pagani Zonda with chassis number 88. There's no accounting for taste.

Although Schedoni recently bought its first automated cutting machine, most of the leatherwork is still done by hand. What has changed quite dramatically in recent years are the designs and the materials mix. Ten years ago, Schedoni-made seats, luggage, and leather goods had to be tan, beige, or at least some other shade of brown. In 2008, almost anything goes-witness the bright red luggage set that Ferrari designer Donato Coco just ordered for his personal 599GTB Fiorano. Also daringly different, the latest Lamborghini Murciélago luggage consists of polished clamshell carbon-fiber halves lined with soft suede; the new Pagani luggage is a wild mix of hide, aluminum, and carbon fiber; the Alfa Romeo 8C luggage features an innovative leather weave that accurately matches the seat trim; the Ferrari 430 Scuderia luggage is Alcantara, velvet, and Gore-Tex. And there's more to come, even though the keeper of the leather house is mum about future projects, such as the seat trim for the pending Ferrari Enzo replacement, a high-end prototype luggage kit for the Bugatti Veyron, the still unspecified leatherwork for the next-generation Volkswagen Phaeton, and a collection of items for VW's Individual division.

Since Britain's Connolly Leather is history, and other big names like Bridge of Weir and Poltrona Frau have decided to go mainstream and chase volume, Schedoni has quietly and progressively slipped into the role of the premier leather supplier to the automotive industry. "I don't quite see it that way," Simone objects. "For a start, we are a leather factory, not a tannery. And we don't have the workforce to satisfy big clients like Ferrari, which builds about 5000 cars a year. Instead, this is a highly specialized, small-unit operation. We can do two Paganis a month, and perhaps one Ferrari and one Lamborghini each. We can also do one-off projects like handmade cuoio-trimmed saddles for Ducati or a new interior for a luxury yacht manufacturer. But as soon as big numbers are involved, we're not really interested, because big numbers typically mean big up-front investments followed by the request for big discounts. For us, diversification is a much better policy. We have just created a new sports shoe line with Puma, we are expanding our own Schedoni luggage and accessories program, and we shall soon distribute our goods through thirty-five sales points worldwide."

Having said that, more than 80 percent of the $8.25 million that the company turned over in 2007 was automotive-related. This rate is unlikely to change much in the near future, when Simone, who took over from his father, Mauro, will start introducing his children and nephews to the business.

While the competition has begun to move its facilities to low-labor-cost countries such as Turkey and China, signore Schedoni insists on preserving the typical italianità that is so important to his clients from the car industry. In the wake of the leading Italian sports car makers, the VW Group could well become the leatherman's next major customer and may also enlist Schedoni as a consultant in craftsmanship. Rumor has it that Schedoni may do for Audi in terms of cowhide what Bang & Olufsen is achieving acoustically. "The secret lies in the right blend of high-end and low-profile," believes the bearded jack-of-all-leather-trades. "Schedoni is at its best where tradition and technology meet, where natural and man-made materials coexist in harmony. If this harmony has wheels and an engine, so much the better."

The doctors from the triangle formed by the towns of Modena, Maranello, and Arese did a splendid job. With the help of scalpel, pacemaker, stent, and bypass, they created three remarkably different versions of one base - but by no means basic - V-8 engine. The three powerplants were implanted into three emphatically different sports cars: the stunning Alfa Romeo 8C, the virtually sold-out Ferrari 430 Scuderia, and the stylishly understated Maserati GranTurismo. How does the heartbeat differ in the three thoroughbreds? The only way to answer that is to drive all three.

SPEC SHEET, PAGE ONE. V-8 with a cylinder angle of 90 degrees; 104-mm (4.09-inch) bore-to-bore spacing; block and head made of aluminum; four valves per cylinder; four overhead cam-shafts; electronic fuel injection. These are the common ingredients. But just as every mama has her own pasta-making secrets, each otto vu has its own distinct characteristics. Three chefs tweaked the same recipe for maximum differentiation and individuality: Jean-Jacques His from Ferrari, Jonata Azzali from Maserati, and Pino d'Agostino from Alfa Romeo. Each adapted the apertures in the ribbed cylinder block, determining a key element for power output, torque, and revability. Alfa secured the biggest bore (94.0 mm) and the longest stroke (84.5 mm). Maserati makes do with the smallest pistons (92.0 mm) traveling the shortest distance (79.8 mm). Ferrari opted for the middle ground, at 92.0 and 81.0 mm. Although short-stroke engines are particularly eager to rev, Ferrari's engineers posted the most ambitious redline - 8500 rpm. The Maserati and the Alfa will spin to 7500 rpm.

The Italian V-8s are more athletic and more high-strung than their big-block counterparts from America. They address the libido directly through one's auditory canals and are perfect models for a bedroom poster. But beneath the showy exteriors, the three V-8s exhibit very distinct characteristics.

The Maserati doesn't excite as expertly as do its counterparts. After all, the armchair strategists decided to equip the GranTurismo, the heaviest car in the group, with the least powerful engine. But a fix is already scheduled for this fall, when the 4.7-liter V-8 will find its way into the GranTurismo. Another idiosyncrasy is the absence of dry-sump lubrication. We aren't worried about losing a bit of oil pressure through super-fast corners or a couple tenths of a second on a racetrack due to the slightly higher center of gravity. But what about the loss of charisma and credibility? To the Maserati fraternity, the switch to a conventional sump must be about as sobering as the switch from a wind-up to a quartz is to watch aficionados.

Alfisti can't make up their minds whether to single out the remarkable engine or whether to adore the 8C as the brand's most complete sports car since the Tipo 33 Stradale. The chassis was in essence provided by Maserati, which had enough components from the now-defunct Coupe in its parts bin to help furnish 500 examples of the limited-edition 8C. If the Coupe sounds like 2002, it also feels a bit like 2002. On a polished circuit such as Alfa's Balocco home ground, the 8C is a splendid mix of inspiration and intuition. On pockmarked back roads, however, the Alfa can display agitation and articulation. The short wheelbase, the unyielding spring and damper setup, and the steamroller-inspired twenty-inch wheels add up to the mother of all conflicts of interest. Over rough roads, directional stability is hectic and vague, traction is dished up in coarse slices, roadholding and grip suffer from occasional black spots, and handling is marred by latent outbursts of lurid oversteer. This sounds like the death penalty for the 8C, but the overriding impression is in fact that of a huge challenge, one that our children's children will talk about. The proper way to access the Alfa is by tightening the reins, switching off stability control, and breaking in the car with a heavy right foot. Like a Porsche 911, the 8C loves to be pushed, and like the Porsche, it calls for careful modulation and moderation.

Although the Maserati GranTurismo could do with more muscle and sharper responses, its relaxed attitude is in line with the typical behavior of a classic grand tourer. When all three contenders give their best, a gap is bound to open between the GT and its blood brothers, but it won't widen to a point where it becomes embarrassing. The Maserati's six-speed automatic takes a little longer to jump from cog to cog, and the substantial weight is a handicap in roller-coaster hills and through third-gear kinks and quick esses, where it requires a bit of patience. The occasionally dramatic body roll necessitates a bigger dance floor, and yaw is always liable to deflect your intended path when you least expect it.

Unfortunately, the GranTurismo lacks the riveting, last-minute brakes that the Alfa and the Ferrari enjoy. That's another reason why the Maserati prefers skating to carving: one line, one momentum, one radius, ideally with no second thoughts. Instead of revving the V-8 to the limiter and making stability control work overtime, thus overcooking the tires, the driver who understands his Maserati will try to soften the radii, realign apexes, and adjust gearchanges accordingly. Without a whip and spurs, the GT is remarkably quick. It's only through tight corners that the GT will invite you to waltz.

The Ferrari, on the other hand, is perfectly docile and easy to drive. Its predecessor, the 360 Challenge Stradale, was made for fearless leadfoots with spinal discs made of titanium. The new model is totally different, thanks to Michael Schumacher. The world champion must have grown tired of constantly fighting Ferrari's rawest road car, because he recommended a more compliant adjustable damper setting with a softer comfort mode, which works in all positions of the manettino (the steering-wheel-mounted switch that controls the interplay between powertrain and chassis). But soft doesn't mean spongy, woolly, or indifferent. Soft means more control and more stability on less-than-perfect pavement. Of course, there comes a stage where undulation and compensation no longer correlate. But until this zone is reached, the 430 displays a sensational mix of velocity and controllability. What further cements our confidence in this car are the sharp steering, the quick gearbox, and the strong carbon-ceramic brakes. And the otherworldly grip varies according to the manettino position from "all guardian angels on deck" to "watch this - I can fly!" The best compromise is CT-off, which idles traction control but not stability control, so you get all the wheel spin but with yaw movement kept in check.

In addition to sense and sensibility, every supercar relays a certain dose of senselessness. Examples from this trio include the Alfa's token trunk, the Maserati's compromised back seats, and the Ferrari's superslippery metal footwell. Theoretically, the Scuderia should make less sense than its more practical and pragmatic stablemates, but this is not the case. The 430 has the roomiest-feeling cabin (at least for the driver and the passenger), the most supportive seats (they are comfortable, too), the best outward visibility (OK, the rear-three-quarter view is bad), the best balanced suspension, and the least confusing ergonomics.

Our Scuderia came with contrasting double rally stripes that look pedestrian and cost extra. The GT suffers from unsupportive seats, poor packaging, and a noisy suspension. The 8C is a relatively tight fit, and it's too macho in the NVH department. In terms of overall user-friendliness, the Ferrari almost matches the Maserati. It's a pity, however, about the astronomical running costs.

All three exhibit appalling fuel-economy figures, too, but excessive consumption doesn't yet seem to be an issue in the Italian kitchens, where gluttony is the rule and asceticism is the exception. In the sports car league, premium primarily equals performance, and that's what you get plenty of here. Neither the Ferrari (0 to 62 mph in 3.6 seconds, 198-mph top speed, according to its maker) nor the Alfa Romeo (0 to 62 mph in 4.2 seconds, 181 mph) nor the Maserati (0 to 62 mph in 5.2 seconds, 177 mph) are short of urge and brio. Among these V-8s, maximum torque varies only moderately, from 339 to 347 lb-ft, which corresponds to between 4750 and 5250 rpm. All three engines lack direct injection, turbo- or supercharging, new combustion methods, and innovative strategies such as cylinder deactivation. The increasingly popular dual-clutch transmission is also conspicuous by its absence, but the 430 Scuderia and the 8C both feature rear-mounted transaxles - in the interest of weight distribution - and boast remarkably rapid servo shifts and handy fingertip activation. The Gran Turismo employs a traditional, comparatively lazy automatic, but at least it changes gears smoothly and progressively.

Sadly, Italy isn't quite the driver's paradise it used to be. Mushrooming industrial parks are swallowing one fast road after the other. Motor-ists seem to be primarily interested in talking on their cell phones or programming their portable GPS systems. The increasingly short-tempered cops will flag you down even if your car is painted rosso corsa, talks through a melodious exhaust, and squats on Pirelli's fattest rubber. These are a sign of the times.

After sampling the glory of the country's finest motorcars, we decided to pop the cork of a lovely light Lambrusco and propose a toast to our three musketeers. The prize for the most pragmatic proponent goes to the Maserati, which we would rather buy with next year's 4.7-liter engine. The award for the most irresistible prima donna goes to the Alfa, which might celebrate a comeback in 2009 as the 8C Spider and an encore in 2010 as a decontented, beefed-up Superleggera. The trophy for the ultimate blend of power, poise, and perfection is reserved for the 430 Scuderia, which costs almost as much as Ferrari's V-12-powered 599GTB Fiorano and is almost as desirable. The red thread that unites these three super sports cars is the otto vu, a remarkably versatile powerplant. It's so versatile, in fact, that this year it'll see its fourth iteration, in the all-new, front-engine, two-plus-two Ferrari.

Techtonics: Pedigreed V-8s
By Don Sherman

At the beginning of this decade, Ferrari engineers designed a new 90-degree V-8 engine architecture with the flexibility to power their own prancing stallions, as well as sports cars from Alfa Romeo and Maserati. Adjusting bore and stroke and dressing one common block casting with different valvetrain, intake manifold, and lubrication systems resulted in three unique engines. The 104-mm bore spacing is also shared with Ferrari's 65-degree V-12.

The key feature that distinguishes Ferrari's 4.3-liter V-8 from its cousins is a crankshaft with throws spaced at 180 degrees instead of the usual 90 degrees. The benefit of this approach, drawn from racing-engine practice, is a consistent 180 degrees of crankshaft rotation between the power pulses in each cylinder bank. (The intervals between power pulses in a 90-degree V-8 are syncopated, varying among 90, 180, and 270 degrees.) The extra space between the Ferrari's intake and exhaust surges facilitates tuning the manifolds for better breathing and greater power. It also yields a blood-boiling 8500-rpm battle cry that prompts involuntary reaches for one's wallet.

The major downside of a 180-degree crankshaft design is that there's no ready way to balance second-order shaking forces. That hardship is less of an issue in the Ferrari, because its engine is located behind the driver and is bolted securely to a transaxle that helps damp vibration. The Alfa and the Maserati have their engines sited ahead of the cockpit, where commotions are more likely to excite the steering column and the floor surfaces. Furthermore, the Alfa's transaxle is at the opposite end of the vehicle, so it can't help damp vibration. Hence, in the interest of smoother, calmer power delivery, Alfa and Maserati's V-8s are both equipped with 90-degree crankshafts.

	Alfa Romeo 8C Competizione	Ferrari 430 Scuderia	Maserati GranTurismo
Bore & Stroke, mm	94.0 x 84.5	92.0 x 81.0	92.0 x 79.8
Displacement, cc	4691	4308	4244
Compression Ratio, :1	11.3	11.9	11.1
Horsepower, hp @ rpm	444 @ 7000	503 @ 8500	400 @ 7100
Torque, lb-ft @ rpm	347 @ 4750	347 @ 5250	339 @ 4750
Redline, rpm	7500	8500	7500
Variable Valve Timing	Intake	Intake, Exhaust	Intake
Variable Intake Manifold	No	Yes	No
Dry Sump	Yes	Yes	No

Alfa Romeo Tipo B (P3)
1935 German Grand Prix
Tazio Nuvolari

The Nürburgring, 1935. Italian Tazio Nuvolari starts the German Grand Prix in front of government officials, 250,000 spectators, and an entire regiment of the Nazi army. His 265-hp Alfa Romeo P3 is almost three years old. The 400-hp Mercedes-Benz and Auto Union giants in front of him on the grid - thundering, state-sponsored monsters on their home track - seem, to the layman, indomitable. There's so little hope for anything other than a German win that race officials have brought only one recording of a national anthem: "Deutschland über Alles."

After a strong start, wet conditions give Nuvolari's lighter, more nimble, and more reliable Alfa the upper hand. He fights it out at the front of the pack, only to fall more than a minute behind when broken pit equipment delays a fuel stop. Over the remaining ten laps, Nuvolari becomes a man possessed, slamming his way through the Germans before an astonished crowd, pressing the leading Mercedes so hard that it blows both its rear tires. After his win, flustered officials search frantically for a copy of the Italian national anthem. In the end, they don't have to look far: the recording used is Nuvolari's own copy of "La Marcia Reale," which he carries perpetually as a good-luck charm.

Maserati 250F
1957 German Grand Prix
Juan Manuel Fangio

The Nürburgring, 1957. Juan Manuel Fangio, four-time world champion, is forty-six years old. Fangio sits on the grid with a plan. His Maserati's tires are short-lived, so light fuel loads and an early, well-orchestrated pit stop are necessary. He qualifies on the pole, knowing that he must stay out in front and build a thirty-second lead in order to keep the stop from costing him his position. He passes the early leaders - Mike Hawthorn and Peter Collins, both in Ferraris, both younger and hungrier - painstakingly builds up his lead, and pits. But nervous mechanics botch the stop, and the planned thirty-second tire-and-fuel pit ends up taking three times as long. In the interim, Hawthorn and Collins fly by. And then, calmly, Fangio gets back in his car and proceeds to make history.

What follows is the stuff of legend: A gear higher in almost every corner. The first 190-kph (118-mph) lap of the 'Ring. Seven successive lap records. And, amazingly, a win, clinching Fangio's fifth championship. He gets out of the car, tells himself he never, ever wants to drive like that again, and retires the following year.

Scuderia Ferrari
2000-2004 F1 Fleet
(F2000-F2004)

Ten years ago, it arguably was possible to distill Ferrari's long competition history into a single achievement. If pressed, you could probably come up with one race, one win, one choice combination of man and machine that epitomized the Italian marque's glory. But not any longer. Ferrari's domination of Formula 1 from 2000 to 2004 was so total and so complete that it effectively cast fifty years of motorsport success into the shadows.

When Michael Schumacher arrived at Ferrari in 1995, the once-great team was in tatters. Twelve years had passed since the Scuderia last won a constructor's championship; eighteen had gone by since Maranello had produced a world-champion driver. Fortunately, Schumacher's talents extended far outside the cockpit - he was, and remains, a man singularly devoted, a man with the capability to inspire greatness in others. When Ferrari gave him free rein to assemble an engineering team in 1996, he surrounded himself with the best possible people and worked tirelessly to maximize their talents. The results - six consecutive constructor's championships (starting in 1999), five straight driver's championships, and a level of dominance never before seen in the sport - speak for themselves.

With the launch of the so-called "Dino" entry-level Ferrari set for the Paris Motor Show this September, Ferrari used this year's Geneva show to redirect attention to its 612 Scaglietti. The two-plus-two-seater, V-12 flagship grand touring coupe has been overshadowed the past two years by the 599GTB sports coupe, so the 612 was chosen as the debut vehicle for Ferrari's new customization program, called Ferrari Atelier. This is a new, organized marketing effort to allow Ferrari customers to have their 612s tailor-made to their specific tastes.

Yes, of course it's true that you've always been able to get things done your way at the Ferrari factory, but it was not part of an official program. Now, the factory will have a special salon where you can sit down with a specialist to discuss your specific needs and desires, look at samples of leathers, try out different seating styles, choose your matching handmade luggage, and in general get the white-glove treatment.

Ferrari set up a mini version of the Atelier on the second level of its opulent stand at the Geneva show, where we sat in a gorgeous chocolate brown 612 whose every interior surface was swathed in the most exquisite brown stitched leather we've ever seen. Even the trunk, including the underside of the trunk lid, was covered in these hides! How much do these baubles cost? If you have to ask...

In other 612 Scaglietti news, the car has been fitted with the latest version of the F1 SuperFast automated manual paddle-shift transmission, so 612 drivers now enjoy the same gearshifting times - about 100 milliseconds - as 599GTB drivers. The 612's steering wheel now has the Ferrari manettino switch, which controls stability control and other chassis systems, on the right spoke, plus a red engine start button on the left spoke. (You can still get a manual transmission for the 612, in theory, but virtually no one does.) Carbon ceramic brakes are now standard, as they have been on all other Ferraris since October 2007 production. The 612 also gets a new, standard, full-glass roof with electrochromatic tinting.