The Ferrari F40 and 288 GTO: Complete Guide to Ferrari's Legendary Twin-Turbo Supercars

A Body of Composites

The use of composite materials for the body was one of the most significant innovations on the GTO, especially in view of the further developments that would come with the F40. The theory of composites is that different materials are incorporated into a single structure which makes the most of each component's individual qualities, so that the panels created are both stronger and lighter than any metal equivalent. Composites played a big part in bringing the GTO's kerb weight down to 2557lb (1160kg) — 227lb (103kg) lighter than the GTB — despite the GTO being a larger car with a mechanically heavier twin-turbo installation. The further advantage of reinforced plastics is that they do not deteriorate: a GTO's body should last indefinitely.

This composites technology was a direct spin-off from Ferrari's Formula One programme. The Racing Department began to explore composites in 1982 with the 126C2 chassis, leading to the development of successive C3 and C4 models. One of the chief reasons Ferrari recruited English designer Dr Harvey Postlethwaite in 1981 was his expertise with modern materials. Throughout its decades in Formula One, Ferrari had always been seen as a racing car manufacturer which bolted tremendous engines into relatively primitive structural hardware, its race-winning streaks coming when sheer power and driving ability overcame the chassis superiority of its predominantly English rivals. Brought in to address this traditional shortcoming, Postlethwaite installed the facilities — including a large autoclave for moulding composites — necessary to work with reinforced plastics.

The production department watched the Racing Department's activities closely. They realised that the GTO was their opportunity to apply this new knowledge to a road car, to experiment with expensive techniques which would have major technological implications for the future if the cost could be brought down. At this stage, composites — still in their infancy at Ferrari — could be considered only for the limited-run GTO, not for series production.

Postlethwaite's experience in forming racing monocoques from carbon fibre, glass fibre, Kevlar, Nomex, light alloy, epoxy resin and adhesive composites helped solve problems of rigidity, weight, noise suppression and heat isolation on the GTO. While the body was moulded essentially using advanced glass fibre technology, some components benefited from the most pure Formula One know-how. The bulkhead between the passenger compartment and engine was the most elaborate, comprising two layers of Kevlar/glass fibre composite sandwiching an aluminium honeycomb core; this bulkhead acts simultaneously as a rigid structural member, a firewall and an insulating layer. The ultra-light front bonnet lid (weighing just 7lb/3.2kg — too light to be slammed shut), roof panel and rear deck were also moulded in Kevlar/Nomex composite.

For all its visual similarity to the GTB, the GTO's composite body is one of the most important differences between the two cars. The only body parts they share are the steel doors and the windscreen. As well as simplifying the GTO's manufacture, retaining the existing doors made sense because their inner intrusion barriers had already passed crash test requirements in all world markets.

Driving the GTO Almost No Turbo Lag

Opening the GTO's door reveals a cabin that could be taken for a GTB interior by all but trained Ferrari-spotting eyes. There are plenty of differences when you start to look around, but the first impression is of a familiar GTB environment: the same doors, windscreen and instrument binnacle, the latter perched like a large orange segment on top of the fascia, which is trimmed in a black velvety material to prevent distracting reflections in the windscreen.

The seats, fairly flat in design, are very different from a GTB's leather chairs. They are formed from Kevlar/glass fibre shells covered with black leather, and like earlier Ferraris the leather is studded with rows of chromed eyelets to provide ventilation. The interior could not be described as luxurious, nor even entirely in keeping with the GTO's price tag, but it looks positively lavish compared with the spartan style of the F40: black carpet covers the floor and there is even space for the optional stereo radio/cassette.

Two large dials dominate the instrument pod: a 320kph speedometer and a 10,000rpm tachometer (red-lined at 7750rpm), flanking smaller gauges for oil pressure and turbo boost. Angled towards the driver on a minimal centre console are three further instruments for water temperature, fuel level and oil temperature. The usual three control stalks are on the steering column. The gear lever sprouts through Ferrari's familiar stainless steel gate, with the same slender, bent stem topped by a black knob as the later GTBs.

The driving position is comfortable and reasonably free of the old Italian long-arm, short-leg syndrome, although a driver over six feet might find himself short of seat travel. The small Momo steering wheel, with a chunky leather-covered rim, is pleasant to hold. Visibility, especially through the rear-view mirror, is good for such a low-slung car, although the windscreen pillars and rear buttresses create front and rear three-quarter blind spots.

The fact that this car is a cut above the GTB makes itself felt as soon as you start the engine. The note from behind your ears is quite different from the naturally aspirated V8's metallic rasp: instead you are treated to a more mellow sound, a muffled burble characteristic of a turbo, but with enough vocal presence to remind you of what lies behind. After allowing everything to warm through — including the gearbox, which balks into second when cold — you can begin to explore the realms of exhilaration unleashed by a little more pressure on the throttle.

Of course, there is quite astonishingly vivid boosted acceleration above around 3500rpm, yet the most impressive and surprising aspect of this twin-turbo V8 is how flexibly its performance swells up. According to the power curve, the engine develops 85 per cent of its maximum at 3500rpm, and improves thereafter. Power arrives with a strong surge once the turbos are spinning furiously, but it is delivered with remarkable progression — flowing evenly and fully, without a savage kick. Off-boost performance, with just a brush of the foot on the accelerator, is lively enough to match any common-or-garden supercar; but when the boost needle begins to flicker at around 2500rpm, the strong push begins. The turbos start to hiss, the engine note hardens, and the GTO catapults forwards at a staggering rate, almost too quickly to take in.

As you give the car its head through the gears, the figures help clarify what dizzying speeds are achieved in this pulse-quickening, adrenalin-pumping rush. The GTO will exceed 50mph in first gear, goes on to 85mph in second, 120mph in third; only at 155mph do you need to change up to fifth, which will take the car on to a 170mph cruise, a 180mph gallop, and finally close to 190mph flat out.

This lofty performance cannot be fully realised even at a tight test track like Fiorano, let alone on everyday roads. You need perfect conditions and an empty strip of tarmac stretching far ahead even to contemplate more than half-throttle, so much space does this king of Ferraris need to be exercised in anger.

For all this, the GTO is docile. It is smooth and sweet, refined and vibration-free; even the wail of the engine and wind noise are reasonably restrained. It is happy to be driven at one-tenth of its potential — which is just as well, because it would otherwise be virtually unusable. Except for its gearchange and sharp clutch, it is as light and easy to control as any humble family car. Care needs to be taken to ease the clutch through its biting point, and the gear lever needs sharp pulls and pushes from the shoulder, but in every other respect the GTO answers to a delicate touch.

The steering is light and precise, and so effortless as you twitch the car through a turn that you would expect power assistance; only its weight when manoeuvring reveals that there is none. The brakes are so capable and so solid in their response that you never have to think consciously about using them. They act progressively to foot pressure, without vibration or fade, effortlessly scrubbing off speed at a light touch, yet stopping the car full-square in what seems a matter of yards when you squeeze harder. You need the security of massive braking power when driving a car of this potency, and this the GTO gives you.

There is enough compliance in the suspension to give a ride quality which contributes to the GTO's relative refinement, yet the precision and tautness of the handling are worthy of a racing car. On the road it is rarely possible to feel any movement in the car's attitude, cornering being achieved with a totally undramatic, steer-as-you-point-it composure and a complete absence of roll. Even when pushing through a medium-speed corner with a good slice of the power tearing into the rear wheels, the tyres — larger at the back than the front, of course — keep their limpet-like grip, holding the car true to line. Through a tight hairpin, the front end's tendency to drift wide can be neatly balanced by power oversteer, but on open roads it is difficult to provoke movement from the rear wheels in any gear. With the restraint that public roads enforce, it is impossible to force the GTO's chassis into revealing any imperfections. Even when you judge that you are driving as fast as seems safe, the car seems to leave you with vast margins of grip, its poise unruffled.

The GTO's qualities are those of any Ferrari, but raised to new heights in a car which provides a sublime driving experience — one which was definitely unmatched when the GTO was new. In moving on a step further to the F40, Ferrari had only its own target to beat.

The GTO's Legacy

The GTO seemed at the time of its launch to be a bold statement of Ferrari's technological prowess. Just as the world's great automotive styling houses produce occasionally startling prototypes to demonstrate the innovation of their thinking, so Ferrari saw in the GTO — a racing spin-off — an opportunity to show just how substantially the limits of road car performance could be redrawn. The fact that the racing programme which prompted the GTO's development never materialised did not make the project any less worthwhile for Ferrari. But apart from being a new road car flagship, the GTO was a good earner too.

While the original plan was to build the required 200 for sale to customers and a further twenty for serious competition, things worked out rather differently in practice. The twenty racers were never built, and huge demand for the road-going version led to a total of 278 eventually being manufactured — 41 in 1984, 230 in 1985 and 7 in 1986. All were collected from the factory by their buyers, as it would have been uneconomic and unnecessary for Ferrari to put the car through the different homologation procedures required to sell directly in export markets.

Many customers ended up paying considerably more than the originally quoted cost, but none complained about the 194,166,000 lire (around £90,000) price tag. It is a mark of the GTO's exceptional qualities, even by Ferrari standards, that an example is today worth getting on for ten times its original price. The F40 looks to be heading the same way, towards instant classic status.

Indeed, the level of interest in the GTO so astounded Maranello's senior executives that the go-ahead for the F40 was a mere formality. Together with Porsche and its 959, Ferrari had been responsible for opening up a booming market among the world's wealthiest people for ultimate supercars. Today, at the start of the 1990s, a staggering range of rivals are jumping on the bandwagon, from giants like Jaguar and Chevrolet to tiny manufacturers like Bugatti and Cizeta.

Never in the entire history of the motor car have more people wanted to buy machinery at the peak of the performance league, yet never before have such cars been more irrelevant to daily motoring. None of the modern crop of supercars can be used to their full potential on public roads anywhere in the world, even on Germany's unrestricted but traffic-laden autobahns.

Investment is the key to this exciting aberration in the modern motor industry. The sheer romance and exhilaration of owning such an exotic supercar can never be doubted, but if you have the wherewithal to indulge in a somewhat impractical luxury, it helps to know that you would see a return on your investment if you ever had to sell. This phenomenon — whether temporary or permanent, who knows — undoubtedly explains why so many people want to buy supercars right now. Once upon a time, exotic sports cars depreciated just as savagely as the general run of the market, but now GTOs, F40s and 959s have made their mark as a sound alternative to the stock market. This is a simple assessment of the GTO's success: it opened up a new niche in Ferrari's rarefied market, leading the company to develop a successor — the F40.

The Original GTO: Incomparable Beauty

What pleases the eye is a matter of taste, but the pinnacles in any field — whether architecture, painting, sculpture or even motoring — generally produce near-unanimity when beauty is judged. A group of car enthusiasts may argue for hours about the world's most beautiful machines, but a handful of automotive greats will inevitably win approval. No one would question the beauty of a Jaguar D-type, a Lamborghini Miura, a Bugatti Type 35... or a Ferrari 250 GTO.

The original GTO is, quite simply, one of the legends of motoring history. Many Ferraristi consider it the greatest Ferrari ever made. Apart from its magnificent racing pedigree, its lines — a startling combination of grace and purpose — are quite wonderful to look at. Yet one of the surprises about the GTO is that it was shaped in-house at Ferrari, breaking with the pattern, as fixed thirty years ago as it is today, that bodies were styled by Pininfarina. Unknown engineers decided the GTO's lines, letting function dictate form. Indeed, the story goes that no drawings were made until after the first GTO had been built.

The GTO's bloodline reaches back to the 250GT of the 1950s — the family of 3-litre V12 cars which were effectively the first series-production Ferraris. The most charismatic road car available to wealthy buyers at the time, a 250GT was also a superb tool for winning GT category motor races. Among its successes was a run of four consecutive victories, 1956–59, in the Tour de France, a 3,000-mile marathon demanding speed and strength to survive the roads, race tracks and hill climbs that comprised the five-day event. The derivatives which achieved this were given the nickname '250 Tour de France'.

A shorter-wheelbase, more race-oriented version of the 250GT came in 1959 in response to the FIA's new GT category in the World Sports Car Championship. A little stubbier but no less sleek, the 250GT SWB cleaned up almost everything in the GT class, as well as taking two more Tour de France wins in 1960 and 1961.

Radical rule changes were on the way during the 250GT SWB's racing career, as the FIA planned to turn the World Sports Car Championship into the preserve of GT cars — not sports prototypes — from 1962. Knowing that there was plenty of life left in the 250GT SWB, Ferrari set a team led by Giotto Bizzarrini to work on producing a further-developed version — which would come to be called the GTO, for Gran Turismo Omologato — to take on potential rivals like the Aston Martin DB4GT Zagato and Jaguar's lightweight E-types. Close attention was paid to aerodynamics, partly to cure the SWB's tendency to lift at high speed, and the GTO thereby earned its beautiful form.

There was nothing radical about the GTO: it was just a carefully crafted derivative of the existing hardware, using Ferrari's familiar mechanical building blocks. Power came from the 250GT's 60° V12 engine, modified to Testa Rossa racing specification. Displacing 2953cc from a 73mm bore and 68.8mm stroke, it developed 290bhp at 7400rpm. No other street-legal car could boast close to 100bhp per litre at the time, and even today this specific output is beyond any naturally aspirated road car. Two valves per cylinder were operated by a single chain-driven overhead camshaft on each bank. Six twin-barrel Weber 38DCN carburettors were mounted in the vee, feeding twelve inlet ports. This magnificent power unit was mated to a new five-speed gearbox. Suspension was independent at the front but continued to use a live axle at the rear.

In order to be homologated for the GT category, the rules stated that 100 cars had to be built. Only thirty-nine GTOs were actually made, with Ferrari arguing that existing SWBs could be considered as making up the numbers, since the GTO was only a 'mildly modified' version. Whether this was blatant rule-bending or just imaginative interpretation matters not, for the GTO was declared legal despite protests from competitors. It proved fabulously successful in competition: fast and almost indestructible, a logical development of the SWB with everything put right.

Ferrari won the World Sports Car Championship three years running, in 1962, 1963 and 1964, with the GTO and the revised GTO64. Of the twenty-eight championship events held, the GTO won twenty, finished second in fifteen and third in nine. Thereafter, Ferrari turned to rear-engined sports racers, leaving the GTO as the last of the great line of front-engined V12 racing Ferraris.