Ferrari Luce debate misses the bigger challenge facing modern performance cars

What did you make of the Ferrari Luce? You will have seen the whole gamut of opinion on social media from apoplectic, spittle-flecked traditionalists to sharp-suited, sockless tech bros patronising all those who don’t understand where it’s coming from.

To say I’m not a fan of the exterior is putting it mildly (I loved the inside), but I’m not going to dwell upon it, first because I am in no better position to judge appearances than anyone else and, secondly, I’ve not actually seen it. Mere photographs are not enough. Even seeing the car in the flesh on a stand is not enough; I’ve changed my mind on such matters on sufficient occasions to know now only to judge a car’s looks once I’ve seen it in its natural habitat, which is on the road, and moving.

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But I was entertained by the superhuman efforts of those who were invited to its Rome launch not to say anything about its appearance which might compromise their chances of being invited on the next Ferrari event while, at the same time, also not saying anything which might bring a torrent of opprobrium down on their head from their audiences too. A tricky balance to strike, you will agree. Some took the time-honoured approach of avoiding the issue altogether, posting a load of pictures and then asking the audience to comment. Others bent over backwards to appear to say something without saying anything much at all, observing that it will invite opinion, that it’ll spark heated debate, that it may not be for everyone and so on.

I did feel for them. A bit. It is not easy to be flown out to an iconic city, be put up in a presumably quite nice hotel, be liberally fed and watered, then be taken to the reveal and have to sit down to breakfast the following day with your hosts whose hospitality you have rewarded with some far from complimentary copy. I know, I’ve been there.

I once wrote a story in which I took Britain’s cheapest car, then a Dacia Sandero, and treated it to the kind of day out you’d usually only ever embark upon in something far more exciting. We went roaming over some of Wales’ best roads thinking that so long as the car is not actively unpleasant, there’s plenty of enjoyment to be had simply from being in such an environment. And so it proved.

A couple of weeks ago, I did a not dissimilar thing, this time in a Kia Picanto, if not Britain’s cheapest car, then certainly up there among its slowest. It served as a powerful reminder of my original point: at least half the fun is the road. Put it this way, teleport me to a Picanto in Snowdonia or a Porsche 911 GT3 trying to get into London from Heathrow at 8am on a Monday and I’ll take the Kia every time.

But there’s something else here too. This most humble of machines was actual, genuine, no-apologies-required fun. It was compact, light, chuckable and had a nice five-speed manual box and a fizzy little engine. While the road was clear, I truly had a ball. The only insurmountable problem is that the moment you chance across anything else, that’s kind of it: a 0-62mph time of 15.4sec means overtaking requires planning, nerve and no small degree of luck. And that’s no fun at all.