Bucket List Chronicles: My Fast & Fearlss Ferrari Fifty
From Dehradun's peaceful lanes to Tuscany's tranquil roads, a speed enthusiast celebrates a personal milestone as she whooshes across the asphalt. Buckle up for a revved-up ride through picturesque landscapes.
By all measures, fifty revolutions around the sun merit a celebration. I wanted a commemoratory experience that would have me firing on all cylinders. Nothing thrills me more than going fast. And what is the epitome of speed if not a Ferrari? So, in a spontaneous mood of unabashed indulgence, I decided I would drive a Ferrari on my birthday. In Italy. The birthplace of speed. I was going to have a fast and fearless Ferrari Fifty!
Using my flight attendant travel benefits, I hop-ped on a plane to Italy. Somewhere over the Atlantic, I found myself reminiscing about my childhood days in Dehradun, a small town nestled in the foothills of the Himalayas. At 2,100 ft above sea level, the city is as famous for its verdant landscapes and revered educational institutions. My fondness for fast wheels sparked to life in high school when my
parents gave me a Kinetic Luna—a 50cc moped. I rode it around with chutzpah—as if it were a Yamaha bike. Forever dressed in ninja black, I used to blaze down the narrow streets of Dalanwala, circumventing pipal trees and potholes, always aiming to go faster.
[Right] The author’s big, bucket list moment: in a Ferrari Portofino. (Photos: Reetika Khanna)
The morning I landed in Italy, I rented a Mini Cooper and drove to Florence with the express intention of purchasing a black leather jacket for my tryst with Ferrari. I made my way to the Duomo area to check out the leather shops. Half a bottle of frizzy peach Bellini and a goat cheese panini later, I finally purchased a fitted black leather jacket. This will do nicely, I thought, as I caught my reflection in the mirror, remembering my lunatic Luna days.
I’ve been to Florence before, and as eager as I was to slip into a Ferrari, I knew I could not leave the city before revisiting some sights. I spent a few hours at the Uffizi Gallery, admiring exquisite masterpieces by Botticelli, Michelangelo, Raphael, and Leonardo da Vinci. The one work 
of art that stole my breath away for the second time is the statue of David housed in Galleria dell’Accademia. I stood before the 17 ft tall, chiseled man, admiring Michelangelo’s genius, unable to breathe for a few seconds. While we may find ourselves cleaved by political and cultural differences, no one can dispute that art—wordless, soundless—enriches our souls.
[Left] The famous Ferrari Museum in Maranello. (Photo: Arnaud 25, Wikipedia)
The following morning, I bought a frothy steaming cup of Italian coffee for sixty cents from the vending machine next to the parking ticket validation booth. How I wish we had machines like this in America instead of the contraptions at gas stations that spew brown liquid that passes for coffee. Appropriately caffeinated, I drove north, past Bologna, to Maranello—the home of Ferrari and the Formula 1 racing team, Scuderia Ferrari.
A speed junkie pays homage to a speed maverick: the author visited the Michael Schumacher exhibit. Schumacher won five Grand Prix titles in a row for Ferrari! (Photo: Ferrari.com).
During my college years, I was enamored with the legendary Formula 1 champion, Michael Schumacher. The German, a frequent visitor to the Ferrari factory in Maranello, won five Grand Prix titles in a row for Ferrari! The Ferrari Museum showcases its founder Enzo Ferrari, the sportscar’s exciting evolution over the decades in shiny scarlet splendor, and Schumacher’s extra- ordinary achievements.
On my way out of the museum, through the gift shop, I purchased a black Ferrari hat with the iconic logo. That was the only thing Ferrari I could afford! As I was leaving, I got talking to two young men from New Delhi. When I told them I was headed to test drive a Ferrari, the pudgier of the two said with a smirk, “Girls can’t really drive.”
I adjusted my Ferrari hat and said, “Catch me if you can.”
[Right] A view of Lake Como in the distance as seen from Bellagio. (Photo: Reetika Khanna)
My bravado faded a little as I approached the Ferrari Portofino that I had signed up to test-drive. The twin-turbo V8 engine generates 612 horsepower and 561 Ib-ft of torque. It clocks 62 mph in 3.45 seconds. Could I really control this beast?
The “captain,” who was to accompany me during the drive, held the door open and I slid into the low seat. On a good day, I measured five feet two and a half inches—I sank low and deep, very deep, into the plush leather seat. My eyes leveled with the top of the steering wheel!
“Would you like a seat cushion?” the captain asked, smiling. “A cushion?” How anticlimactic. I bet Michael Schumacher never needed a seat cushion. And where on earth was the captain going to find a cushion at such short notice anyway. “Yes, thanks,” I whispered, hoping the two Indian guys were not witnessing my indignity. A few minutes later, the captain handed me a firm leather cushion with Ferrari emblazoned on either side. “It happens more often than you think,” he reassured me, sensing my embarrassment.
[Left] A view of the Domo from Piazzale Michelangelo. (Photo: Reetika Khanna)
My spirit lifted, my mojo back; I turned on the ignition and revved the engine ever so slightly. The beast roared to life. What a sound it was. Regal, assertive, unmistakable, instantly turning the heads of passersby. I started slow, navigating roundabouts and turns with extreme caution. The instructor looked over and said, “You are driving a Ferrari; act like it.” I stepped on the gas, and it happened in a flash. The Ferrari and I were one. I felt an instant connection with the beast like Jake Sully and his Ikran, the avian predator in Avatar.
I have driven BMWs, Audis, and a Maserati, but nothing, absolutely nothing, compares to the experience of driving a Ferrari. If cars were artworks, Ferrari would be the David. As I passed cars one by one on the highway, the captain looked over once more and said, “You are a Ferrari; pass at least two at a time.”
“What if the cops catch me speeding?” I asked, speaking over the wind. “Does anybody catch the Godfather for the things he does?” he said, smiling.
The walled city of Siena. (Photo: Reetika Khanna)
A Ferrari commands respect. I get it. I passed a truck and two cars in one shot effortlessly. What a thrill it is to have penultimate power and unparalleled precision at one’s command. I turned off the highway onto a narrow road. I thundered through the lush Tuscan landscape, past lazing grapevines and rustic dwellings, past Enzo Ferrari’s son’s grand villa. It was the most exhilarating experience I had ever had in my fifty revolutions around the sun.
When my time was up, I eased up the ramp and maneuvered dexterously into the tight parking spot facing Michael Schumacher’s larger-than-life mural. In the distance, I caught sight of the two Indian men looking my way. Perfect timing, I thought to myself, and emerged from the Ferrari with Schumacher’s swagger.
As the adrenalin wore off, I found myself craving butter chicken and naan. I found an Indian restaurant twelve miles north in a small town called Modena. Though the naan was a bit tough, eating Indian food and speaking to the Gujarati waiter in Hindi in Tuscany was oddly satisfying.
I spent the night at the Maranello Village Hotel, where every room is decorated in a racing theme, from the murals on the walls to the complimentary earplugs by the bedside. It was the perfect place to hang my Ferrari hat. To bookend my exhilarating birthday, I watched Ron Howard’s film Rush based on a true story about the rivalry between two racing legends—Niki Lauda (Ferrari) and James Hunt (McLaren).
I spent the next day soaking in the mellow Tuscan splendor as I drove south—well within the speed limit—to the walled city of Siena, known for its medieval brick buildings. I walked around in the main square, il Campo, which marks the intersection of roads that lead to Siena. The expansive space was designed to be a common ground for celebrations—and the spirit of that intention holds true to date.
[Right] The white, green, and pink marble facade of the Duomo Florence Cathedral.
I sat back in a cafe to watch people of all ilk congregate in the square and ordered a hot chocolate. You haven’t had real hot chocolate until you’ve had hot chocolate in Italy. It looks like syrupy chocolate sauce, but the silky, not- too-sweet beverage goes down smooth, inundating one’s palate with authentic cocoa flavor. This was the Ferrari of hot chocolates!
The following day, I made my way to Lake Como—a destination inspired by scenes of Villa Erba in Ocean’s Twelve, featuring George Clooney and Brad Pitt. I hopped on a ferry to visit the towns of Bellagio, Varenna, and Menaggio flanking the lake. Each modest village offers spectacular views of the townships across the water with the changing light of the day. While Venice and Rome boast of majestic architecture, smaller Italian towns replete with modest, colorful homes proffer a landscape worth exploring.
I wrapped up my Italian adventure with an evening at the QC Terme spa cocooned within ancient stone walls in the heart of Milan. Set within archeological remains, the spa stretches across approximately 3,000 sq feet. It is a unique interspersing of contemporary aesthetics and sensibilities with ancient architecture. The piece de resistance is the Porta Romana tram, a sauna housed in a historic Ventotto carriage. After sweating out toxins in the sauna, I spent an hour relaxing in the “cinema pool,” enchanted by projections of flora and fauna along the walls. From there, I headed to the outdoor whirlpool with glass walls looking upon ancient ruins that preserve the history of the centuries gone by.
As I watched the disappearing lights of an airplane in the night sky, I had an epiphany. Now that I had driven at my top speed of 224 kmph, there was only one way to go faster. I’ll have to learn to fly an airplane. Catch me if you can!
A view of Varenna as the ferry pulls away and across Lake Como. (Photo: Reetika Khanna)
Author of Kismetwali & Other Stories, Reetika Khanna is an Atlanta-based freelance writer, the columnist for Khabar’s ‘Talk Time’ column, and has worked with ELLE as a senior features writer, and as an associate features editor with ELLE DÉCOR, Mumbai.
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