The Ferrari 612 Scaglietti normally would run you $320k, but in Russian it ran its new owner almost $850k, making this Italian campfire even more gut wrenching.

From the owner of the recently departed Ferrari;

I owned Ferrari for 30 minutes. Just bought it for 600,000 EUR and was heading home, when I noticed some smoke coming out from under the hood, I promptly pulled to the sideway and ran out of the car. Just in minutes all my new Ferrari was caught on fire. I really don't know what has happened.

Seems like Ferrari has been building in some of the old reliability problems back into its modern cars. We love the Italians for that. [via englishrussia]

There is no way to get used to the size of Ferrari’s 612 Scaglietti. While most Ferraris—indeed, most supercars—tend to be larger in life than imagined, the Scag is a monster. Longer than a Mercedes-Benz E-Class and wider than an S-Class, it is the size and shape of a ballistic missile, especially in dark gray.

The size is a direct consequence of the car’s dual functions of high-speed handling and four-person capacity. Inside are four bucket seats intended to carry in comfort four actual people with eight lower extremities. This is unlike most 2+2’s where the comfortable ratio of humans and legs tends to be an unevenly distributed one to one. And while—unlike the Espada’s very comfortable rear seats—I have never had the opportunity to actually sit in a 612, those who have describe the rear seats as up to the task.

The other factor in the 612’s immense length is the engine, which is mid-mounted. But unlike with the traditional mid-engined layout—where the engine is between the cabin and the rear axle—the Scag’s 5.7-liter V12 sits low behind the front axle, similar to the supercharged V8 in the Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren. And like the SLR, the 612 has a nose—or substitute your favorite metaphor based on human anatomy—any self-respecting Frenchman would be proud of.

Mounting an engine midships is done to reduce weight in a car’s extremities, lowering its moment of inertia. This comes in handy when you take a corner fast, so I called Nino Karotta, the only person I know who has actually driven a 612 Scaglietti (if you’ll remember, Nino was the guy who showed us how to become a Formula One driver in one day).

The 612 he drove was in an environment rather alien to a leviathan GT—the Hungaroring, a racetrack in a dusty valley on the outskirts of Budapest, home to the Hungarian Grand Prix. He described the experience as similar to what happens when you take any very powerful but heavy car to a track. That while it’s very fast, capable of huge powerslides and much better composed than, say, a large V12 Benz, it is ultimately too soft and too heavy for proper track work. Unlike, he said, the Ferrari 599 GTB, which he drove on the same day and described as a sharp, violent track animal.

We had better find a more suitable environment for the 612 then. And remember: we’re looking for family use here. So let’s head to Regent’s Park, 487 acres of Central London flanked by white stucco houses where rich people live and exercise.

While Central London is perhaps not the perfect location to strecth a 550 HP grand tourer’s legs, nothing beats it when it comes to arriving home. The car is understated, elegant, majestic, no Italian waving of hands apparent in its flowing lines, inspired by a one-off Ferrari 375 MM its namesake Sergio Scaglietti created in 1954 for Italian neorealist film director Roberto Rossellini’s wife Ingrid Bergman.

An elderly couple then arrive in a Citroën C3—this is a very small French car—and maneuver into the space in front of the Ferrari.

They turn out to be the parents of the Ferrari’s owner, a dapper man who has by this time emerged from his house. My mate Máté and I are soon in the midst of a family cavalcade, admiring the lovely Ferrari.

Also in tow is a young girl, Orelia by name, who climbs down from her grandmother’s neck. This is it then: a real, live kid who actually rides in the back of a Ferrari! Our conversation as I remember it:

“Hi Orelia, my name is Peter.”

“Hi Peter.”

“So how is it riding in a Ferrari’s back seats?”

“It’s great. I sit there with my two sisters.”

Roominess? Check!

“And when you go for a ride, do you go real fast?”

Substituting for words, she offers a huge, jubilant nod. We wave our goodbyes. A few steps later, her father reaches down to pick a white strand of thread out of the Pininfarina logo on the left fender.

Gentlemen, a Jalopnik midlife plan is emerging here. Make a quarter million bucks, get a Scaglietti and a fine woman, sire children, then transport them in style and at speed.

And if you have dogs (or elephant guns), go get that Maserati Quattroporte wagon.

Photo Credit: Balázs Fenyő (Ferrari 599 GTB), Máté Petrány and the author (612 Scaglietti)

Yes, I know this will make many of you here hate me, but I must say it — I have never been a fan of the station wagon. Yes, I do see the point — you can fit loads of kids, dogs or elephant guns in the back but then I’ve never thought of the car as a thing to transport kids, dogs or elephant guns. You need a sedan to be grownup cool or a coupé to be rock and roll cool, and that’s about it.

Except that station wagons are now called estates or avants or sportbacks and in recent years, I have come across a few which have rather struck my fancy. The Alfa Romeo 156 GTA Sportwagon, for instance. The Dodge Magnum. In SRT8 trim, of course.

I know people who love estates like motor oil loves to get under fingernails. In fact, two of my friends are planning on converting a Volkswagen Phaeton into one. Google Translate will help you right along with their project briefing—in Hungarian—a quick auto-translated snippet of which reads:

And when they physically exist, the preparation will be tangible things considered, we are bound to a common central images of creative images, crept kombikészítéshez.

Imagine my shock now when, certainly not a man of creative images, crept kombikészítéshez, we arrived at the Villa d’Este last week and the first thing I saw after a BMW 750i dropped us off was a Maserati Quattroporte. A Quattroporte estate, that is.

Flabbergasted I stood, mostly as a result of the intense craving I felt at its lovely butch lines. Although I still consider the Lamborghini Espada the perfect family car, the youngest of them will be approaching thirty-five by the time I acquire one—and kids to carry in it. And thirty-five-year-old handbuilt Italian cars are not as much vehicles for transportation but more vehicles that make for very stylish and very static object by the side of the road as you stand puzzled over their V12’s spewing oil. I am, of course, not making this up:

So this is it then. The Maserati Quattroporte Bellagio Fastback Touring, to finally call it by its ornate full name, with a beckoning slope to its roof. Built by Carrozzeria Touring—the people who invented superleggera in the 30s—, it was first shown at last year’s edition of the Concorso d’Eleganza, an event to which it has now returned unannounced, parked by a gift shop that sells swooningly expensive silk scarves.

A car that has a Ferrari engine up front, acres of leather in the middle, and kids, dogs or elephant rifles in the back. All in a package that’s got the Quattroporte’s irresistable swagger—with a locomotive of a rear end.

Be alert not to carry kids, dogs and elephant guns at the same time though. That would be unwise.

If you are now itching to spend that money which was supposed to finance your kid’s higher education, may I refer you to a PDF at Carrozzeria Touring’s website, which reads in part as follows:

Those interested in buying a Bellagio Fastback Touring must address to Carrozzeria Touring Superleggera or to Rossocorsa, the Milan Maserati dealer. After the delivery of a Maserati Quattroporte saloon (any version) the work starts and is realized together with the client, who’ll be involved in any choice: a unique and fascinating experience, almost impossible to imagine, in the era of mass production also for extreme cars.

There you have it. And one more thing: just as we were about to leave the Villa d’Este, I stumbled into the Bellagio once again, tucked into a corner in an underground parking lot. I tried to take a nice picture of it but this thing in red kept creeping into the frame.

My sincerest apologies.

Photos by the author expect the picture of the broken down Lamborghini Espada, which is by Balázs Fenyő.

On a lovely autumn day in 2006, I folded myself out of the back seat of my friend Larry’s Lamborghini Espada and had a revelation: I have just found the perfect family car.

Orosz, get your head out of the mushrooms, you might be thinking, the Espada is a 40-year-old Italian rustbucket, but see, it all makes sense. The car is Marcello Gandini’s trickiest design—the svelte coupé profile obscures two flawless, roomy back seats, either of which will accommodate my 6'2" frame with ease. Fitting a child seat in there would be a walk in the park.

The Espada also makes a very pleasing noise, is not very expensive at around $40,000 for a driveable example and most importantly, it comes with a cubic mile of style. Based on my rudimentary knowledge of developmental neurophysiology, a child exposed to such a stylish means of transport in her formative years will develop impeccable taste. And a sense for the benefit of extreme speeds.

To test my theory, I went for a stroll in Knightsbridge, London’s perhaps poshest neighborhood. Specifically, the streets around the famous department store Harrods, where the local ultra-rich do their weekend shopping.

Ferrari 456

The first car I ran into that fit the bill was a midnight blue Ferrari 456. This is very similar to the Espada in that there is a V12 up front, two doors on the sides and four seats on the inside. Ferrari introduced it in 1992 as the replacement for that eyesore 400 and made around 3000 of them until the 612 Scaglietti took the stage as Ferrari’s resident leviathan.

It’s a beautiful, compact car, and in spite of the fact that the good people of Knightsbridge receive ultra-high doses of supercar every single day, it still drew looks. The inside is your typical all-leather Ferrari affair—but it showed no signs of occupation by minors. Little wonder: the rear seating area is way less voluminous than that of the Espada. You would need to have kids with very short limbs to feel comfortable back there.

The Knightsbridge crowd thought the same: a couple stopped by to consider it as perhaps their next family ride, but upon seeing the interior, they promptly walked off.

Ferrari 599 GTB

Of course unless you have twins or more than one child, you won’t need a four-seater right away, and if you live in Knightsbridge, your spouse probably has her own supercar. What you need is a grand tourer. And show me a grander tourer than the Ferrari 599 GTB.

It was parked in front of the World’s Easternmost Krispy Kreme Franchise: a favorite haunt for those who have gotten hooked on this wonderful Southern suspension of fat and sugar, yours truly amongst them.

And here, in the tantalizing cloud of frying donuts, my theory was proven. In the passenger seat of the Ferrari was installed a child seat! Pardon the lack of a polarizing filter:

Unlike the Espada, the 599 is definitely not a reasonable choice. You will be charged a quarter million dollars to own this rocketship with its archways of aerodynamics. But consider: putting your child through a good college and graduate school runs up a tab very much in that neighborhood—and there’s no guarantee that she’ll have a happy and productive time.

Alternatively, you can spend that money on a 599. Her hearing will develop in a vat of high-strung V12 engine noise. Her sense of balance will be trained by the sudden instances of acceleration and deceleration produced by the 611 horses up mid-front and the humongous carbon ceramic brakes in the corners. She will smell gasoline and premium leather. All in all, the perfect way to nudge her central nervous system in the right direction.

As I was considering all this, the smell of Krispy Kremes became overpowering. I followed my zombified brain inside and introduced four glazed donuts into my body. A few minutes later, giddy with the sudden overload of sugar, I stumbled outside to see the Ferrari already gone. Inside traveled a small child, her brain happily soaking up every component of that magic which Ferraris are made of, constructing all the right synapses for a balanced adulthood.

Next up, we’ll look at a Ferrari 612 Scaglietti and a real, live kid who rides in the back.

Photo Credit: Balázs Fenyő (Lamborghini Espada) and the author

Despite the otherwise nasty downturn in global auto sales, Ferrari has seen a 20% increase in Hong Kong sales in the last year and this gray 612 represents the 1000th Hong Kong sale, so to celebrate, the car was delivered on a junk ship. We don't particularly know why, equating a shiny new Ferrari with junk doesn't seem like the message you'd want to send. It may have been a silly publicity stunt, but you cant argue with the visual. [iMotorMag]

Ferrari modified the 612s for India by raising the ride height 1.2 inches and replacing the composite undertray with an aluminum sheet. However, it had no time to fit these two particular cars with the new F1 transmission before shipping out to India. And for some unfathomable reason, the cars are left-hand-drive, contrary to India’s British-inherited rules. Passing is a two-man operation, the navigator’s script usually as follows: “No . . . no . . . no. Okay, go. WAIT!!”

Read more at Car and Driver.

Well, at aroung $311,820 USD, you could buy something like 124 of the $2,500 Tatas. Actually, we'd rather go on the round trip from Mumbai to New Delhi with 124 Nanos than some Ferrari with an ugly paint job. Though, the money from the auction is supposed to go to some sort of charity, so it's for a good cause. We remember hearing our Jalopnik Bangalore branch was supposed to have a test drive of the 612, but that might have just been a day dream brought on by too much chicken makhani. (Hat Tip to Shrawan!) [ebay]