The question of the ultimate Grand Tourer reignites the age-old dilemma between absolute comfort and the refined pleasures of authentic driving. Where would you place your preference: the opulence of a Rolls-Royce, the cozy feel of an Aston Martin DBX, or perhaps the muscular performance of an Audi RS6?
“Easy—a Urus!” cry the Sant’Agata enthusiasts, while those seeking exclusivity will point out that its Lamborghini badge actually hides a mass-produced platform and a cloned V8 found under a wide variety of hoods.
So, let’s go for refinement. A Maybach S680? Not distinctive enough! A Range Rover Overfinch? Too heavy!
Or, why not a race-bred V12 paired with a leather-lined cabin, four heated electric seats, and rear-hinged doors? Indeed, why not a supercar with a hatch? That sounds like quite a good choice.
The Ferrari Purosangue is just such a two-headed chimera: a racing engine nestled in an aesthete’s living room. A true textbook example that allows four people to share the symphony of a V12 while being enveloped in plush comfort. Enough refinement to cut long distances in half. Un mouton à cinq pattes. [The French phrase “a five-legged sheep” refers to something extremely rare or unique, possibly mythical; in English, we’d say a unicorn.—Ed.]
To truly assess the Purosangue’s capabilities, I have to start by choosing a playground worthy of it. One such as, say, the Vercors massif mountain range. Starting from Lyon, I could quickly leave the main roads towards Valence, turning off, at random, Méouge Gorges, maybe towards the Col de la Machine. That sounds good—almost as good as Ferrari’s 6.5-liter engine, which, after being roused from its slumber, already resonates in my ear like a sweet and intoxicating melody. It’s the perfect note, neither too high nor too low, and it foregoes the exaggerated backfires of SUVs that puff out their chests and belch. There’s no need for an Akrapovic exhaust with a normally aspirated V12.
Let me take this opportunity to remind readers that, at a time when no one but us enthusiasts cares about what’s under the hood, the sheer pleasure of a dozen cylinders makes all the difference. I can’t go full throttle right away, but it turns out warming up isn’t just a necessity, it’s part of the fun. Especially for an engine with such an exceptional pedigree, whose nuances are discovered in 1,000-rpm increments, like savoring a mille-feuille.
Despite its weight and size, the Purosangue reveals a kind of finesse you won’t find within the horde of Lamborghini Urus or Bentley Bentayga models. The Ferrari’s chassis gives the same impression. There’s no body roll artificially controlled by double-locked anti-roll bars, nor a suspension as hard as wood that could dislodge your fillings. Rather, there’s a perfect fluidity, produced by remarkable damping and a balance one is accustomed to finding behind the wheel of a GT. The latter is achieved naturally through a remarkable weight distribution, split 49/51 front-to-back, thanks to the gearbox’s positioning on the rear axle.
Suffice it to say, the road from Saint Jean en Royans is devoured in a single bite, and my eyes widen in amazement at the prospect of the Combe Laval circus and its 2,300-foot cliffs. While the Purosangue handles corners with ease, its size is nonetheless noticeable, and I quickly realize the exterior dimensions are considerably larger than they appear from the driver’s seat.
It’s best not to venture into a village with narrow streets unless you want to get completely stuck. At more than 16 feet long and, especially, just over seven feet wide including the mirrors, you’d better have a good eye for detail. Especially since the mere thought of scratching the carbon fiber wheel arches is enough to make anyone break out in a cold sweat. It’s therefore best to stick to rolling roads—and empty ones, where possible, to let the V12 run free.
Heading towards Vassieu en Vercors, the Purosangue unleashes its full potential and demonstrates a unique power delivery. It cannot be overstated how rare and precious this characteristic, inherent to a naturally aspirated V12, truly is. Just like its sound.
The Purosangue doesn’t growl like a Urus; it purrs like a race car. It doesn’t bark like a DBX; it sings like a diva. To be perfectly honest, though, the 6.5-liter V12 in my tester is more muted than the first Purosangue I drove years ago. Perhaps there’s a difference between the engines, but this doesn’t change the fact that its temperament remains unique. It even becomes addictive.
On the roads that skirt the Serre de l’Aigle, this Ferrari, with its seven-league boots, gives the impression of gliding over the obstacles. The slightest bend or curve is enough to feel the perfect coherence of its roadholding.
As a reminder, the suspension, developed in partnership with Multimatic, can instantly modulate the vertical load applied to each tire to guarantee stability, thus eliminating the need for anti-roll bars. The Purosangue can therefore vary its ride height, raising it like a lift system or lowering its center of gravity in corners in the blink of an eye.
These subtle adjustments make a real difference behind the Purosangue’s wheel, without the increased unsprung mass (that of the electric motors inside each shock absorber) being bothersome. Add to that the rear-wheel steering from the 812 Competizione, a well-designed electronic differential, and a host of sophisticated electronic aids (including the 296 GTB’s six-channel sensor and ABS Evo), and you get a level of agility that is truly astonishing considering the weight.
The level of grip is equally impressive, regardless of the Michelin Pilot Alpin tires fitted to the tester. So much so that, despite my best efforts, the Purosangue categorically refuses to oversteer. In fact, I can’t completely deactivate the electronic driving aids; the traction control reactivates, even with the manettino in the CT-Off position. In hindsight, this may be because I didn’t fully deactivate the ADAS systems beforehand…and in this regard, the small touch-sensitive joystick on the steering wheel that controls them is not only ineffective but potentially dangerous, as it forces me to look at my fingertips rather than the road.
THIS IS THE PERFECT SEGUE TO DISCUSS the Purosangue’s only real flaw: controls that aren’t intuitive enough in general and a particularly complicated touchscreen steering wheel. I must admit I don’t have nimble fingers, and I prefer to look far ahead, rather than directly in front of me, when I’m driving.
I had the same problem with the Roma, the first Ferrari of the buttonless era, whose touchscreen controls weren’t exactly known for their simplicity, and the Purosangue is no better. But Maranello has now backtracked, and offers to replace the steering wheels on existing vehicles with more analog units.
So let’s close that chapter. Apart from that, are there no flaws in the Purosangue? I suppose I could criticize the slightly slow electric operation of the rear doors, but no, not really—provided you don’t try to calculate the fuel consumption. With a V12 propelling more than two tons, it’s no surprise the 26.4-gallon tank is devoured at breakneck speed. It’s a tough pill to swallow at the first gas station, but swallow it you must.
The Vercors High Plateaus Nature Reserve is next, before descending towards Lake Serre-Ponçon for a bite to eat and a photo stop on Bois-Vieux beach. A deep breath of fresh air, and the V12 roars back to life as I head towards Sisteron. Not to venture into its Citadel, which looks like a crown in
the windshield, but rather to admire the panorama. “The most powerful fortress in my Kingdom,” as a certain Henry IV once said, and it’s worth the detour. As are the Méouge Gorges, which connect the Drôme Provençale to the Hautes-Alpes. Below, turquoise water cascades from waterfall to waterfall, then eddies around the polished pebble coves.
The Purosangue also proves enjoyable at a leisurely pace. As the miles roll by, this Ferrari is so effortless that I forget the exceptional and unconventional nature of its mechanicals, although a mere touch of the accelerator is enough to remind me. Why seek power in the higher revs? Because it’s so enjoyable! The tachometer needle reacts with fury, and the lullaby resumes with renewed vigor.
A sign reading “10 kilometers of curves” attracts the Purosangue like a magnet, irrefutable proof that this is not an SUV. The brakes? They hold up well, provided I let them cool down occasionally, because they generate a lot of heat.
I head towards Montfort, a village perched in the Alpes de Haute Provence, where the Purosangue ventures out for a photo. The panorama is magnificent, with the late afternoon light giving the horizon an even more distant appearance. And, incidentally, the assurance of being far from everything, which means we still have a good many miles to cover.
Good news! This is precisely what separates the Purosangue from ultra-luxury SUVs. It’s always about the feeling, that intangible something, that makes you, even after a long journey, want to take detours, just to prolong the pleasure. All of this, of course, comes at an exceptional price, to which you must add options of unreasonable proportion.
Aside from its somewhat bulky size and less-than-user-friendly interface, the Purosangue excels at combining the exceptional temperament of a racing engine with the versatility of a four-seat cabin. If you appreciate mechanical refinement, there’s no need to look to Bentley, Rolls-Royce, or Aston Martin. Ferrari’s V12 is simply unparalleled, a pure thrill, and its magical transmission ensures you don’t miss a single drop.
