There were a couple of moments where this year’s Goodwood Festival of Speed might’ve been a little dicey. Day three of the four-day extravaganza, on Saturday, was cancelled due to 50mph winds. That may not sound all that alarming, but the ‘central feature’ at the Festival of Speed amounted to nearly 100 tonnes of steel sculpture soaring eight storeys over Goodwood House – seat of the Duke of Richmond since the 17th century – with typically several thousand petrolheads picnicking below. It also included six valuable Porsches hovering just below the clouds, and with the public told to stay away there was still every chance His Grace might suffer a Blaupunkt 962 stuck in his roof.
The Goodwood hillclimb takes place on a 1.16-mile section of the Duke’s drive and is flanked by 100,000 spectators. On Thursday, a wheel snapped off the back of a drifting Jaguar Mk 1 and bounced with furious energy into the crowd. This could easily have been lethal. There have been three fatalities in the festival’s 30 years, and to not have had a serious injury this time was nothing short of divine. Two people took a blow from the errant wheel but, according to an official statement, ‘were able to go back to enjoying the event’. I picture them cursing their half-spilt pints – that would be the British way. Earlier, an electric concept car from Hyundai had failed to slow at the perilous Molecomb Corner and smashed through four rows of hay bales. It looked like an explosion in a Shredded Wheat factory. All of which delayed proceedings and made my end-of-the-day slot to drive a special Maserati up the hill look in doubt.
To drive at Goodwood one needs to hold a racing licence, and the thrill of thrashing somebody else’s car in front of a capacity crowd and on television is pretty much the sole reason I renew mine each year. I was raring to go, and my promised steed was Maserati’s last ever V8-engined car: the Ghibli 334 Ultima.
Let’s pause for a minute’s silence. Since 1959, Maserati has been building some of the most stirring V8 road cars in the business. The first was the gorgeous 5000 GT ‘Scià di Persia’, a one-off coupe commissioned by the Shah of Persia himself, the car-mad Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, with elegant superleggera coachwork by the famed Carrozzeria Touring.
Now, in 2023, Maserati bids a fond farewell to its V8, adaptations of which also powered the Quattroporte, the Mexico, the original 1960s Ghibli, the Indy, Khamsin, Bora, Kyalami, Shamal, 3200GT, and the previous-gen GranTurismo which ended production in 2019. That was the best-sounding 2+2 production car of the past decade. The new GranTurismo comes with a choice of V6 twin-turbo or triple fully-electric motors. Welcome to a quieter Modena. Maserati is emerging as a leader when it comes to high-end electrification. Its BEV department is called ‘folgore’ – the Italian word for lightning. But where’s the thunder? With the Ghibli 334 Ultima, the Trident-brand is allowing itself a rare moment of reflection, but the uneasy truth is that so much of its soul is aural.
The ‘334’ points to its top speed – 334km/h or, in real money, an astounding 208mph. This makes it the fastest saloon in the world. You wouldn’t know it, because the current Ghibli is so unshouty, even with some slightly enlarged air inlets and vents. It’s much less brawny than an AMG Mercedes, for instance. It looks modern but discreet, a bit like one of Rishi Sunak’s Henry Herbert suits. Just 103 units will be built (103 was the secret code name for the original Shah of Persia 5000 GT), with only five being right-hand drive. The UK price is expected to be around £160,000. It’s painted Persian blue, which looks deep blue or jade green depending on the light, just like the Arabian Gulf. Inside, the seats are pale terracotta reminiscent of the Shah’s car.
At its heart is the four-litre twin-turbo V8, with the cylinder banks angled at 90 degrees. It produces 572bhp. I call that adequate.
Of course, I want to hear the roar of the engine bouncing off Goodwood’s infamous ‘flint wall’. The noise, definitely not the car’s bodywork. That is what we don’t want. In addition to the Hyundai Ioniq 6 RN22e’s shunt at Molecomb, we’ve also seen a Leyton House F1 car, a BMW M1 Procar and a McLaren F1 GTR (which is worth well into the teens of millions) go crunch. That’s enough to make even the most boisterous helmsman’s confidence waiver. And there is a communications breakdown. The paddock marshals are telling me to jump into the Ghibli and head to the start line, while the course is red flagged due to the Jag incident and we’re receiving word we could be done for today. Rumours abound that those struck by the errant wheel lost a lot more than their drinks. It’s not happening, I’m told; no more runs. No more burying my right foot in some Italian carpet. No more making those 572 cavalli sing. I wander off to look at the stands before Maserati’s UK boss chases after me: He’d got a call from race control, and we were back on.
Helmet, check. Approved driver wristband, check. Three, two, one, go. The 334 Ultima screeches off the line, spinning its wheels through the first two gears. Zero to 62mph takes 3.9 seconds. I never look at the speedometer. I’ve raced up this hill a dozen times, and the first corner is always earlier and tighter than I remember. We’re already doing better than the first time (when I flooded a classic Lancia rally car and never made the start). The second time I did it, it was in race-prepped 1965 Alfa Romeo Giulia GTA and the gearstick came off in my hand halfway round. It’s enough to put you off Italian cars, but I figure a brand-new Maser should be better sorted. No need to worry on that front. Kick up a little dirt at the entry to the second turn like the pros and bury the throttle past the hospitality tents, the central feature, and the thousands thronging to get a picture.
Under the bridge, a twist and a blind crest and you’d better already be nursing the brakes before Molecomb hoves into view. If you’re not, you’ll go the way of the Hyundai and that’s an embarrassment I’d rather avoid. I’ve got electronic stability control turned off, helping the car rotate nicely into the corner so I can apply power right on the apex. Oversteer, not understeer – that’s the key here. Into the tree-lined avenue. The flint wall is ahead, shielded from the light, black as coal. Err on the side of caution – it can be slippery. For the next turn, a right-hander, it gets extra narrow with hay bales either side and it’s easy to lose concentration thinking back to how you just escaped Molecomb and the wall and ensuing repair bills. Think two corners ahead and nothing else. The last is a longer left hander and across the finish line. At which point, you sit in the world’s most expensive and tightly-packed car park for half an hour moaning about who held you up (another bloody Hyundai), before being allowed to go back down the hill and return to one’s paddock.
There remain 103 examples of this car available, I’m happy to say, but this is the finale. I just wish that glorious V8 was going under many more Maserati bonnets, with no end date.
Comments