The F12 Tour De France is the ultimate version of Ferrari’s front-engined flagship, the F12. You had to be invited by Ferrari to buy this limited edition ‘super-hot’ 6.3L V12 (I wasn’t), and the 799 lucky original recipients have already enjoyed huge appreciation, because this car is one of the all-time great Ferraris.
Power was increased by 39 to 769bhp, it got active rear-wheel-steering, and the already-fierce F12 body was seemingly subjected to the same Gamma radiation that made the rippled torso of The Incredible Hulk. New wider grills, aerodynamic fins, and of course it got those iconic shark grills on the rear haunches. In any colour, but especially the launch colour of Giallo Triplo Strato (triple layer yellow), the F12 TDF is a stunning looking machine. It transforms any car collection, any car show, any occasion.
I’ve had the pleasure of owning BO55TDF since July 2017 and as with all new Ferraris, ownership has largely been one long boulevard of green lights.
Whether it’s the seven – Yes SEVEN year free servicing plan, three-year warranty, or the way that modern Ferraris are now so well-built and reliable, a near-800bhp V12 Ferrari is as blameless as a Ford Focus. Even the notorious tyre pressure sensors have behaved themselves – and they always go wrong.
In fact the only grey cloud in an otherwise perfect day was a patch of corrosion found high on the rear tailgate. I mean, really? A 2016 flagship Ferrari and it has a paint defect – that is… disappointing.
My car is, I’m willing to admit, quite special. Not only is it eyeball-stinging to look at, it has a dramatic black strip that goes across the bonnet – most stripes run downwards. It has gloss carbon fibre on the outside (a lot of it), but matte carbon inside. That’s nice.
It also has a party-piece signed engine bay. In any language or situation, that is cool, and it means the bonnet/hood stays open at many car meets. Sometimes I say the signatures are Italian engineers who made the engine, sometimes its old Formula 1 drivers, or even the cast of Top Gear. Depending on how mischievous I feel.
There’s no drama involved in starting or driving sedately in this car. Ergonomically, it shares everything with the regular F12, which means inconceivably hopeless twin TFT screens that require engineering degrees to operate and be able to show the speedometer and vital warning gauges simultaneously. Changing these screens involves pressing and holding buttons in certain combinations. Anyway you slice it, that’s mental.
I do like the way the digital speedometer is made to look like that of the 365 GTB/4 – that’s classy. If you opt for the digital speedo, you get an enormous set of numbers, which has the effect of making the TDF dash look like the one in Knight Rider. Not my cup of tea.
A cold start TDF is something everyone should experience at least once in their lives. Foot on brake, thumb the glorious red Start button on the F1-inspired steering wheel and the earth literally shakes as the V12 bellows into life and settles into a high metallic idle. Don’t make the mistake of touching the throttle – the public don’t like mopping up the blood from their burst eardrums.
What’s it like driving an F12 TDF? Terrifying, frankly.
With so much power driven through just the rear wheels, and despite being 110kg lighter than the stock F12, it’s still a heavy car, so hustling the TDF on the twisty bits is a do-or-die experience. Thankfully the two-turn lock-to-lock steering is more than up to the task – if you run out of road, it’ll be entirely down to your lack of talent.
The active rear-wheel steering works well to make the car feel shorter than it is, and this does make a noticeable difference on mountain roads, with a genuine ‘shove-up-the-back’ feeling as you sweep out of a tight turn.
The ear-blistering gravitational fury unleashed when you nail the throttle, coupled with the overall twitchy top-heavy feel native to the F12, makes the TDF a palm-sweating experience to drive quickly on any roads. Where a Porsche inspires B-road confidence, in the TDF you tend to hold back rather than nailing it.
You’re still going extremely quickly, don’t get me wrong, but it rarely gives you the confidence to get stuck into bends and rocket out onto the straights. The key to unlocking the full pleasure of the TDF is to grab it by the scruff of the neck, but I’m afraid I’m too chicken to do that on public roads. And if there is even a hint of moisture on the roads, forget it - the TDF will bite quicker than a scolded rattlesnake!
What’s it like to own a TDF and actually use it? Yes folks, I drive mine. 5,500 miles so far, but that does include a trip through Europe to Ferrari itself for the 70th birthday celebrations. Most TDFs are garage queens, and many have less than 50 recorded miles. The owners, who could not believe their luck, picked them up from the dealership, drove them home, and that’s where they’ve sat for two years. That pisses me off. And not just because it means they are worth more than mine.
TDFs are meant to be driven. They are meant to be seen. Yes I get it – it’s a limited Ferrari, it’s extremely valuable (though values have dropped in 2018/2019), and its not an easy car to drive. But come on! We have a right to show these things to as many people as possible to inspire new generations of Tifosi.
As with many Ferraris, the joy of TDF ownership is the sheer theatre, the drama, the whole heritage thing. It sounds fantastic, it accelerates like nothing else, it frightens you, delights, encourages, cajoles, and ultimately rewards you as only a Italian car can.