So, there I was, with this thing, the Squadra Corse. Folks talk a lot about these supercars, you know? Like they’re some mythical beasts. I always wanted to get my hands on one, not just to look at, but to really feel it. This wasn’t about a gentle Sunday drive, mind you. This was about understanding what all the fuss was truly about.
Getting Acquainted
First thing that hit me? It’s loud. Not just loud, but an event. Just turning the key, or rather, pressing the button, felt like waking up something angry. I spent a good few minutes just sitting in it, engine off. The seat, man, it hugs you tight. Almost too tight if you’ve had a big lunch. Everything felt very purposeful, not a lot of fluffy comfort stuff you’d find in your average sedan. It was all Alcantara and carbon fiber, which sounds fancy, but really it just means ‘light’ and ‘grippy’.
I remember fumbling a bit with the E-gear. It’s not your regular automatic, and definitely not a smooth manual. It’s got a mind of its own, especially at low speeds. Jerky. Like it’s constantly telling you, “Come on, let’s go, what are you waiting for?”
The Actual “Practice” Run
Once I got it out on a clear stretch of road – a private one, mind you, wouldn’t dream of pushing this on public streets – that’s when things changed. The initial clumsiness disappeared. That V10 engine, right behind your head, it just screams. It’s not a refined noise; it’s raw. Acceleration? Felt like being strapped to a rocket. My stomach was left a few feet behind me, I swear.
Here’s what I jotted down in my head during that blur:
- Steering: Incredibly direct. You twitch, it darts. No room for sloppy driving.
- Brakes: Phenomenal. Threw out the anchors and it just stopped. Proper powerful.
- Visibility: Not great, especially out the back with that massive wing. Parking would be a nightmare.
- Comfort: After about an hour, not much. It’s built for a purpose, and that purpose isn’t long-distance cruising.
The car felt alive, almost too much at times. It demands your full attention. You can’t just casually drive this thing; you have to drive it. Every bump on the road, you feel it. Every input you make, it responds instantly. It was exhilarating, absolutely, but also a bit intimidating. I was constantly aware that this machine had way more capability than I could probably ever use safely.
So, What’s the Takeaway?
After I handed back the keys, my hands were still buzzing. It wasn’t just a car; it was an experience. A very intense one. Is it practical? Heck no. Is it comfortable for daily use? Absolutely not. Would I want one for my everyday car? My back says no.
But that’s not the point of a Squadra Corse, is it? My “practice” with it taught me that these kinds of cars are built for a singular, focused experience. They’re not trying to be everything to everyone. They are what they are, unapologetically. And you know what? I respect that. It was a wild ride, and I’m glad I got to wrestle with it, even if it was just for a short while. It certainly cleared up a few things about what “supercar” really means, beyond the shiny pictures.