I Drove a Ferrari Challenge Race Car on the Street . And It Was Horrible
Car Movie
I was recently given the chance to drive a Ferrari F430 Challenge race car through the streets of Philadelphia. After five minutes, I wished that I hadn’t taken the chance — after ten minutes, I wished I hadn’t been born.
Before I explain what it was like to drive this vehicle (spoiler alert — it felt like I was seated inwards a jackhammer), permit me to provide some details. Very first, the car: A Ferrari Challenge race car may look like a standard F430 road car, but it’s very, very, very, very different. There aren’t enough “verys” in the world to describe how different it is — it’s like the difference inbetween a parking meter and a diplodocus.
Here’s what I mean: The regular F430 has interior carpeting, sound-deadening materials, windows that roll down, a stereo, climate control, door locks and a key to turn it on — you know, things we’ve had in cars since that large monkey climbed the Empire State Building. Well, the F430 Challenge has none of that. I’m serious. It doesn’t even have a key. To commence it, you roll a kill switch.
Mechanically, the F430 Challenge offers a similar setup to the standard F430 with a few race-oriented revisions. It still has the same 500-horsepower V8 in back, but it also contains upgraded brakes, center-lock wheels and a more aggressive suspension. The fresh suspension brings the F430’s overall ground clearance from the low level of the road car to a entire fresh field in the race car, likely to elicit such exclamations as, “Oh, no, someone left a note card in the road. I’d better find a different way home.”
I mention all this stuff because I want you to understand this isn’t some regular F430 that’s been modified and lowered, such as a ’94 Integra. This is a Ferrari-built race car, designed for racing on racetracks and next to other race cars. It has a roll cell and an harass where the license plate should go. Under no circumstances should you operate this vehicle on the street!
So, naturally, I determined to operate it on the street — serving with all laws by using a dealer license plate, of course.
This chance came about from my friends at LBI Limited, a local special-interest car purveyor here in Philadelphia with an excellent inventory that presently includes a gorgeous Porsche nine hundred ninety three Targa, an ultra-rare Shelby Series one and a Batmobile — a freakin’ Batmobile. They told me to pick one of their cars for a movie and a column, so I chose the F430 Challenge. I soon discovered that this would be like walking into a fine restaurant that serves excellent, wonderful, delicious, notoriously scrumptious meals and asking for food poisoning.
This became instantaneously demonstrable the moment I attempted to get inwards and discovered you don’t “get inwards” an F430 Challenge so much as you fling your assets at the lil’ opening inbetween the base of the roll box and the roof and hope for the best. I got in the car twice. Both times, I had to liquidate one of my footwear.
Then you get out on the road, and you’re instantaneously struck not by the amazing engine sound, the precise treating or the beautiful cabin — but by the warmth. My god, the warmth. Take the best thing you’ve ever experienced, and multiply it by four. You’re now about one third as hot as the F430 Challenge car. If, during my drive, I passed by a home in suburban Phoenix with a cracked air conditioner, I would’ve pulled over and charged inwards to seek refuge.
The reason for all the warmth is ordinary. In the interest of saving weight for racing, the F430 Challenge has no air conditioning. Also, you can’t roll down the windows because they’re made of weight-saving plexiglass. You can only slide open a portion of the window — a petite portion no larger than a regulation bagel.
Warmth is only one problem, however. The suspension is also insanely, ridiculously, absurdly stiff. You know how people in Porsche nine hundred eleven GT3s think they’re so cool because they’re xxx enough to drive a “race car” on the road? LOL. Actually, not just LOL: LOLOLOLOLOL. Compared to this thing, the Porsche nine hundred eleven GT3 might as well be a chauffeur-driven Lincoln Town Car with a cooler total of water bottles in back.
Of course, this is because the F430 Challenge’s suspension wasn’t designed to be driven down Spruce Street in Philadelphia, next to traffic lights, Honda Accords and people on bicycles who hear the car coming from a block away and believe they’re under enemy attack. Rather, it was designed to be driven on ultra-smooth racetracks, where the largest road surface imperfection is hitting the rumble de-robe.
The result? Inbetween the awkward bumps and the ridiculously low ground clearance, you have to be hyperaware when driving the F430 Challenge. There’s no flooring it and loving the rail — there’s merely flooring it and despairingly watching the road in front of you to ensure you don’t roll over something massive, such as a toothpick.
Next up is the noise. In a normal car, you have sound deadening, foam and insulation, all meant to minimize the noise coming from the engine and the road. Once again, the F430 Challenge eschews all this stuff to save weight, which means you permanently hear everything, including parts humming when they knead together at certain revolutions per minute, the roar of the engine and lil’ pebbles bouncing off the bottom of the car.
Five minutes into piloting the F430 Challenge, I quickly began to appreciate just how much engineering goes into a modern road car — and I mean any modern road car, even a Mitsubishi Mirage. I also embarked to appreciate a time before I climbed into the F430 Challenge — a more satisfied time when I still had feeling in my gams.
When I finished driving the F430 Challenge, several of my friends asked me to compare it to the two thousand four Ferrari three hundred sixty Modena road car I wielded a duo of years ago, but there’s absolutely no comparison. As noisy, crashy and awkward as my three hundred sixty was, it didn’t even come close to the F430 Challenge. Overall, I believe there’s a larger gap inbetween the F430 Challenge and my old three hundred sixty Modena than there is inbetween my old three hundred sixty Modena and a Nissan Rogue. I’m fully serious.
You might think this all adds up to a negative review of the F430 Challenge, but truly, it’s just a negative review of driving it on the street. The car is obviously an amazing track-day fucktoy, with beautiful styling, brutal acceleration and amazing spectacle. People who have wielded F430 Challenge cars are most likely laughing at this review right now, telling “Of course it’s awful on the street — it’s a RACE CAR, whaddya expect?” And they’re right. This thing is best left on the track.
I have to admit, tho’, it was kind of awesome for a few moments there, when I was very likely the only stud in the entire world sitting in front of a Chrysler Town & Country at a stoplight in a Ferrari Challenge Car.
It was also kind of awesome when I got out and regained the feeling in my gams.