Oh what a happy choice to be making, Paris with the golden apple, poised between Athena and Aphrodite. Wait, didn’t an entire city get sacked and a mediocre Brad Pitt movie get made the last time this happened? I’ll need to be careful.
But here they are anyway, two proud and noble steeds from two very different stud farms. On one hand, the arched neck and muscular flanks of Northern Italy: the capering, snorting, whinnying Ferrari 360 Modena.
On the other hand, brains over brawn: the quick-witted Cayman, here in its most powerful GTS form. It looks like a mini Carrera GT, compact, lithe, nimble, perhaps the best-yet to bear the crest of Stuttgart.
Both machines hover just under the six-figure mark. Both are mid-engined, performance-oriented, semi-impractical sports cars. They are more than a decade apart in age, but just fractions of a second apart in performance.
Ferrari 360 Modena
Brendan McAleer, Driving
It’s old-school heart versus new-school precision, il passione versus Teutonic dynamism. It’s a Porsche you can lease versus a Ferrari without a warranty. Yikes. So which is best? (And why is there suddenly this wooden horse parked outside my house?)
Now, were I to say that either of these cars was affordable, most of you – us, really – would do a spit-take with the morning double-double. They aren’t affordable, exactly, but they are achievable. If a modern Ferrari 458 or a 911 Turbo is a dream, then both the Cayman and this older F360 are at least within the grasp if you work hard, and manage your money carefully, and sell all your children off for medical experimentation.
The Cayman GTS, like all expensive new cars, immediately provokes the response, “For that kind of money, I could buy a…” Well, here’s one option of what you could get for your dot-dot-dot.
This particular Modena belongs to a regular gent who has a normal house in a nice neighbourhood, a fair degree of mechanical aptitude, plenty of track-time under his belt, and the daftness to hand me the keys to his Ferrari. Well, I ain’t going to say no.
Ferrari 360 Modena
Brendan McAleer, Driving
Debuting just before the turn of the millennium, the 360 Modena has an all-aluminium space-frame that you can actually see exposed in the engine bay, a 3.6L V8 that makes 400 horsepower at 8500 rpm, and a choice of six-speed transmissions, either manual or paddle-shifted. This one’s a stick. Praise Zeus.
“It’s just as I would have ordered it,” says the Modena’s (lucky) owner, “Only 30% were sold with the manual, I really didn’t want a red one, and after living with it for a while I’m glad it didn’t come with an aftermarket exhaust.”
The colour is Blu Pozzi, so-named after the French Ferrari importer Charles Pozzi. It’s dark, restrained, elegant, a bit difficult to keep clean, and you’d think it’d allow the Modena to fade into the background.
Five minutes after we park the car to take photos, atop Cypress mountain in an empty parking lot, an excited gentleman pops out of nowhere and comes running over with his camera. “Can I take a picture?” he asks, clicking away, “It’s wonderful!”
Porsche Cayman GTS
Brendan McAleer, Driving
The owner pops open the door and lets the stranger sit in it, even takes a picture for him. Hands are shaken vigorously, compliments and thanks – this is all part of owning a Ferrari.
The Cayman, on the other hand, nobody seems to notice. Not that it’s not a stunning car in its own way, finally grown into its mid-engined shape, just that it blended better into the scenery. You’d probably get a nod or two from those in the know, but especially in this silver colour, it’s not a car that has passersby sprinting over. Possibly look to the F-Type coupe if showing off is your thing.
But if your thing is actually driving, the Cayman GTS is simply wonderful. Pop open the door, plonk yourself into the excellent sport seats, hit the Sport button to sharpen up the throttle and open up the sport exhaust, select first with the Alcantara-covered shifter, let out the clutch and go. The 3.4L flat-six spools up with a snarl, building to its 340 hp crest at 7,400 rpm, and oh, Poseidon’s beard, is it ever a lovely sound.
First-to-second, second-to-third, cruise up to the first corner and then blip for the downshift – the Cayman does all of this with ease, flattering the driver with every move. This must be what dancing with Ginger Rogers was like – you think you’re leading, but your partner is there to catch your misstep. You guide and the car responds as if it’s reading your mind.
Ferrari 360 Modena
Brendan McAleer, Driving
The GTS is the most expensive of the Cayman range, but it comes packaged with all the driver-focused stuff you could want, such as the adjustable suspension dampers, two-mode exhaust, throttle modes and all the rest. It could commute Monday to Friday, hit the track Saturday, and spend the following week wending down the Oregon coastline on holiday. It has a deep trunk up front and a useful hatchback. It goes like the blazes. I can’t sell off my kid. Mustn’t. Shouldn’t. Wife would be pretty irritated, for one thing.
Returning to the Ferrari and stoking up its red-headed V8, we find ourselves measuring Porsche practicality versus Italian passion. The Cayman’s shifter went snick-snick-snick; the 360’s steel-gated transmission thunks into place with industrial-grade heft. “You want to dance?” it seems to ask, “Ok then. Andiamo!”
The Cayman’s flat-six sings a Wagnerian tune, the aria of a Valkyrie. In contrast, the 360 belts out a full-bodied tenor like Pavarotti reaching the climax of Nessun Dorma. It pulls and pulls and pulls and pulls and, “All’alba vincerò! Vincerò! Vinceròòòòò!”
Nessun Dorma: none shall sleep. Run this eight-cylinder masterpiece through something like a Tubi exhaust and you’d wake the dead. It’s outstanding, a high-rpm wail that raises the hackles and reduces me instantly to schoolboy wonder. It’s a Ferrari! This is what they do.
Ferrari 360 Modena
Brendan McAleer, Driving
And at the same time, the drive is no sweaty-palmed wrestling match either. It’s nowhere as easy to drive as the Cayman – the clutch is heavy and the gear-change deliberate – but it’s far friendlier than older Ferraris. The driving position is actually sensible, unlike the ape-armed position F-cars used to make their drivers adopt. The visibility is good. The seats are pretty comfortable. The ride is decent.
Where the Cayman flatters, the Ferrari entices. It’s not easy to drive, not quite, and you can practically feel it clucking its tongue sharply at a hesitation or lazily-executed shift. It demands something more of you – your undivided attention. It makes you want to be a better driver, to spend early morning hours practising your smoothness, tracing out the steps to make the waltz a seamless, effortless proposition. It too is wonderful, and getting a rev-matched downshift even halfways right runs an electric thrill up your spine in ways the Porsche can’t. Must. Not. Sell. Off. Kid.
Of course, the Clydesdale in the room is just what the Ferrari costs in stabling when compared to the newer car. Ruination, right? Well, not quite. The F360 requires a single $500 oil change once a year, and a $3,500 belt change every three. Beyond that, it’s a question of tire wear and thirst for fuel, both of which are not too bad, all things considered. Of course, there is the question of operating without the safety net of a warranty in a car with a $40,000 engine, but the F360 has a reputation for being relatively durable. There are even those who daily-drive them. We call them nuts.
Ferrari 360 Modena
Brendan McAleer, Driving
As a car that exists in the trough between newness and collectibility, the Modena is just within reach, and doesn’t disappoint. All the magic you dreamt of while flipping through dad’s Road & Tracks is here. It’s a jewel of a car, and when compared to the skyrocketing values of mid-’90s Porsche 911s, just maybe, just maybe it’s a possibility?
The Cayman, of course, offers 90% of the thrill, all of the performance, and you could drive it every damn day. In fact, the owner of this 360, after considering whether to part with his Ferrari in favour of a car he could more safely use on-track, has now set his sights at finding a previous-gen Cayman as a daily-driver. Why not? Some creative packing may be required, but the little Porsche is surprisingly usable – but he’s keeping the Ferrari.
Because I am a crazy person, that’s the one I’d pick too: Aphrodite, the Ferrari. Sure, you’d be risking the equivalent of the 10-year Trojan war, but to drive, it’s pure poetry. Difficult to come at, perhaps, demanding and occasionally trying, but in the end, it’s so epic a blind man would sing its praises.
Ferrari 360 Modena
Brendan McAleer, Driving
