This may not be a real Ferrari, but no matter — it's still one of the most gorgeous things we've ever seen. Pontoon-fendered 250 Testarossa body, you had us at hello.
Testarossa, the old man said, and he was not speaking of the woman's hair. She flew through the town center, jumped into the passenger seat, and the car took off. It was one of those Sicilian afternoons where the sun turns the trees to gold and the young men come out to play with their racing cars. He had no idea what she was doing in the Ferrari, nor why her scarf was wrapped so tightly around her neck, nor why the car's twelve sounded so lean on startup. He did not care. She had beautiful skin, the car was a color he had only seen in dreams, and her laugh made him remember a time when his knees did not feel like a pair of rusty hinges. He raised his glass. "It is good," he thought, taking a sip, "to be young and go very fast."
Yeah, so we're romantics. And yeah, we wrote the bit above for absolutely no reason whatsoever. And yeah, when we walked across the green at Pebble Beach last year and saw a handful of 250 TRs just sitting there, minding their own, we went a little weak in the knees.
Is this a real 250? As far as we can tell, no — the proportions seem a little off and some of the details give us pause — but that's irrelevant. Ferrari hotness is Ferrari hotness is Ferrari hotness. One of these days, we're going to find a cheap English wheel, buy a bunch of aluminum, and go to town. We will teach ourselves to produce stuff like this, and we will hang what we produce on the wall. It will not sound like this:
...but it might look something like it. And that will be enough. Viva!