The sight of a 599 HGTE is enough to make your knees tremble. GTs come no mightier

There are two sides to Ferrari. On one you have the over-exposed, crimson-clad megabrand that inhabits duty-free malls and pumps out licensed Mubadala baseball hats by the million. On the other you find engineering artisans creating immaculate, high-revving, measured-in-milliseconds, magnetorheologically suspended masterpieces that we’d all sell a vital organ to drive, and a close relative to own.

At no single event in the Ferrari calendar do these two worlds collide more graphically than the Ferrari World Finals. An annual melting pot of the haves and the have-nots, this extraordinary open-doors event is perhaps the only place you’ll find billionaires with the means to buy and drive a multiple race-winning ex-Schumi F1 car cheerfully rubbing shoulders with those for whom spending 45 euros ($ 65) on a polo shirt is their reality-strapped expression of devotion. When it comes to Ferrari, it seems passion is one of the few things to which you can’t attach a price tag.

We’re due to experience the intensity and intimacy of the Ferrari World Finals for ourselves tomorrow, but first we need to get there. Our transport, I’m somewhat chuffed to inform you, is a magnificent 599 HGTE, while our route is a blissful, 370-kilometre charge from the heart of Barcelona to Valencia’s Autodromo Ricardo Torno, because this year, for the first time, the World Finals are being held not in Italy, but in Spain. With it having been announced that Ferrari has signed a certain Signor Fernando Alonso to drive for its F1 team in 2010, the choice of venue is almost certainly no coincidence. However, whether the two-times world champion will make an appearance at the Finals remains to be seen – he is, after all, still under contract to Renault – but we’ve got our fingers crossed.

Our journey will take us across fertile plains, over verdant mountains and along fast, smooth autopista – the perfect means to get to know the firmer, spikier, more driver-focused ‘Handling GTE’. Truth be told, it’s also my and photographer David Shepherd’s Cinderella moment, as we milk the privilege of driving a V12 flagship to the Ferrari Ball for all it’s worth. Right now, though, we’re standing expectantly outside the entrance to Cars Barcelona, waiting for ‘our’ 599 to appear. When it does, it’s enough to make your knees tremble. Modern GT cars come no mightier than this.

Visually the HGTE is all about those 20in split-rim, starfish-pattern alloys, a slightly lower stance, a new grille, a matt black diffuser and four Gatling gun-like exhausts poking out the back. Inside, swathes of carbon and some embroidery on the carbon sports seats are more clues to the HGTE’s enhanced status.

Dynamically the HGTE upgrades are less immediately noticeable, but there’s no question the combined effects of a 10mm reduction in ride height, a 17 per cent front and 15 per?cent rear increase in spring stiffness, a 19 per cent increase in roll stiffness (thanks to 1.5mm thicker anti-roll bars and re-calibrated magnetic dampers), an additional 16 per cent of pitch stiffness and grippier Pirelli P Zero Corsa tyres make themselves felt. There’s a muscular tension that runs through the 599 HGTE, and it feels more alert and responsive to steering inputs even as we trundle along in Barcelona’s rush-hour traffic.

Inevitably this heightened dynamism does come at the expense of ultimate ride comfort, although if you’re willing to be more diligent and creative with the manettino settings, twisting it to the setting for wet conditions when you’re driving around town, you can round off the sharpest edges and restore most, if not quite all of the standard 599’s ride comfort.

As we power onto the motorway, we get a vivid reminder of the 599’s firepower. Its Enzo-sourced 6-litre V12 is epic in every respect, from its knife-edge response and animalistic cry to its generous spread of power and torque, and humungous reach. It’s one of the few areas of the 599’s hardware that hasn’t been tweaked in the transformation to HGTE-spec, but I find 611bhp and 448lb ft with just 1688kg to haul tends to be enough on the public road…

With thoughts of low-speed ride comfort banished and a rapidly intensifying thirst for all-out performance to slake, your fingers soon make the short journey from leather-bound steering wheel rim to anodised spoke-mounted toggle, where one deliberate clockwise twist – perhaps two if you’re feeling bold – awakens the ogre within the 599. Immediately the transmission pops in a downshift, as if to signal its impatience to get on with things. Then all that’s left for you to do is squeeze the throttle, catch the wave of adrenalin and brace for the onslaught of accelerative G. It’s a wild ride.

Upshifts come thick and fast – 85-milliseconds fast to be precise, thanks to the re-mapped control software for the F1-SuperFast transmission. Now more than ever it feels like a sequential race ’box, only without the gear- whine and brutal shift action. Aggressive enough to make you feel connected (there’s still scope to finesse the shift quality with an ever-so-slight lift of the throttle), but so punchy you won’t bemoan Ferrari’s recent decision to consign manual gearboxes to history, full-bore driving is the HGTE’s preferred zone.

Having peeled off the motorway and onto the relentless twists and turns of the hills near the Idiada Proving Ground, the HGTE’s increased agility and sharpened response are welcome, but they take a little time to adjust to. Turn-in is so immediate and requires such minimal steering inputs (20 per cent less than the standard car, according to Ferrari), you really have to calm your driving down if progress is to feel smooth. It’s a confidence thing as much as anything. Once you learn to put your trust in the front- end’s enthusiasm for direction changes, believe Pirelli’s stickiest road tyres can deliver the grip to lean on and understand that the huge carbon-ceramic Brembos will take great bites out of your momentum, the rest comes naturally.

If there’s one frustration, it’s that to completely free the 599’s rear-end from the shackles of the traction and stability control systems, you need to go to the ‘CST off’ setting, which also winds the suspension up to its stiffest mode. That’s fine on a track, and I suppose there is an argument that a circuit is the only place you should drive by the seat of your pants, but in reality there are always occasions – say, an inviting, clearly sighted, slightly uphill second-gear corner – when you want the full, uncensored, destiny-in-you-own-hands experience.

Ideally the 599 would allow you to adjust its driver aids independently of its suspension. Just like in the new 458 Italia, in fact. Unfortunately, if there’s one unwanted side effect of Ferrari’s pace of technological change, it’s that you always crave the latest advances, even if you’re driving a model that’s still in production. That’s not the 599’s fault, but you can’t help wanting more.

‘You squeeze the throttle, catch the wave of adrenalin and brace for the onslaught of accelerative G. It’s a wild ride’

It’s a niggle that rears its head on these tricky mountain roads. The stiffest suspension settings are pretty uncompromising, and there’s no doubt that having the option of a little more pliancy, while at the same time having F1-Trac and CST disabled, would make the HGTE a more adaptable and effective partner on these less-than-smooth roads. As it is, there are times when the stiff suspension and the V12’s prodigious poke conspire to momentarily break traction on the exit of a corner; first at one wheel, then the other as, unaided by F1-Trac, the limited-slip diff and rear tyres fight to regain grip over an awkward undulation or camber. It’s not a malicious trait, but it’s a hint that your wits need to be sharp if you’re to be a match for the HGTE’s elevated limits.

Leaving the mountains behind, we head back onto the motorway, and all too soon we spot signs for the World Finals as we approach Valencia. Despite the impending repossession of the 599 and a horrid return to normality, it’s hard not to feel smug when you arrive at a Ferrari celebration in one of the most desirable Ferraris of the modern era. There aren’t the heaving throngs of fans we’d expected, but still there are enough excitable bystanders to feel a buzz. Flags and hands wave, fingers point, whistles and cheers ring out. They want to hear the V12 sing, and I’m happy to oblige. Pull back both paddles to select neutral, pause for a second or two, then give the throttle pedal three meaty stabs: Brrrappp! Brrrappp! Braa-aaa-app! It’s juvenile and gratuitous, but the looks on their faces (and the new ringtones on their mobile phones) are all the justification I need.

‘Put your trust in the front-end’s enthusiasm for direction changes and the rest comes naturally’

Whatever you think of the unstoppable brand juggernaut that is Ferrari, when you strip it back to the pure driving experience, very little comes close. You can believe the hype.

	Ferrari 599 HGTE
Engine	V12
Location	Front, longitudinal
Displacement	5999cc
Max power	611bhp @ 7600rpm
Max torque	448lb ft @ 5600rpm
Transmission	Six-speed automated manual gearbox with paddleshift, rear-wheel drive, LSD, ASR, CST, F1-Trac
Weight (kerb)	1688kg
Power-to-weight	368bhp/ton
0-100kph	3.7sec (claimed)
Top speed	330kph (claimed)
Basic price	$ 350,000
On Sale	Now
Star	4.5 stars

On the face of it the Ferrari World Finals are an elaborate season-end bash for the owners, fans and racers of Maranello’s finest export. However, this year’s event has assumed far greater significance thanks to the rumoured attendance of someone who would be perhaps the only man in the VIP paddock not to have driven a Ferrari in anger: Fernando Alonso.

The build-up to the event has been cloaked in a PR smokescreen, with no official confirmation that ’Nando is going to make an appearance. Given the timing, the location and the audience, such will-he-won’t-he speculation is a bit lame, for not having him here would be a missed opportunity of cataclysmic proportions.

That said, Saturday comes and goes without so much as a distant sighting of Alonso, which sows a few seeds of doubt in the fertile, fevered minds of the crowd and press contingent. Is he really going to stand us all up?

Massa, Fisichella, Badoer and Gene are in attendance, which serves as a half-decent distraction. The recovering Brazilian in particular receives tremendous support from a genuinely affectionate crowd. At one stage ‘Felipe Baby’ has a real baby thrust into his arms, which understandably nonplusses him for a moment. Still, when not blessing infant Tifosi he looks well – amazingly well considering the near-fatal head injury he sustained just a few short months ago. He clearly regards the team, and his race engineer Rob Smedley in particular, as his surrogate family. Such a bond is inevitable given the shared trauma they’ve experienced, but still it’s great to witness. If Alonso intends to shape the team around him, he’s got his work cut out.

‘This year’s Finals have assumed a far greater significance thanks to the rumoured attendance of Alonso’

There’s a relaxed, party-like atmosphere to proceedings. Everyone from the Formula?1 team down has exchanged race faces for altogether brighter and less combative expressions. Down in the F1 Clienti and FXX Corse Clienti garages, possibly the greatest concentration of billionaires and millionaires short of Simon Cowell’s speed-dial are busy bench-racing after their last session on the circuit in their privately owned Ferrari F1 cars or Enzo-based track-only specials, racer-talk embellished with the universal drivers’ semaphore of mimed opposite lock and wide-eyed expletives. It could be any other gaggle of trackday mates, which somehow makes it much?cooler.

In the Shell Historic garages are the most mouth-watering collection of ’60s and ’70s Ferraris you’ve ever seen, growling and barking like caged animals before chuntering down the pitlane and out onto the disappointingly characterless tangle of tarmac that forms the Valencia circuit. Shame. Such majesty deserves a more memorable stage.

There are other gems hidden away in the pits if you know where to look. Like the spectacular 599XX, the wild 599-based successor to the FXX Programme cars, which is being driven in front of an audience for the first time today. Later, Marc Gene and Luca Badoer engage in a short but sweet duel, the Spaniard in the red 599XX that he helped develop, the Italian in a satanic black FXX. Days later, my head will still be ringing to the sound of them strafing the pitwall?with a combined firepower of 24 cylinders and 1600bhp. Tinnitus has never been more worth it.

And then it happens. In a flurry of red, the stern-faced security team steps aside, allowing Alonso to break cover. Entourage in tow, he walks briskly from the safety of the FerrariF1 team corral and makes for the pitlane. Despite this being his first official appearance as a driver for the illustrious Scuderia, he’s not wearing teamwear. Either this indicates some kind of contractual overlap with his former employers or a heart-warming loyalty to the colour-blind great aunt who knitted the jumper he arrives in…

‘Massa receives tremendous support from a genuinely affectionate crowd’

Whatever, there’s a faintly scary, demented fervour to the pack of photographers and cameramen who chase him like hungry wolves through garage after garage. I feel a bit sorry for him (I know, he earns millions, but still it’s a pretty full-on assault) so veer away from the chasing pack, preferring to stand in the now deserted F1 Clienti garage. This turns out to be an inspired move, for no sooner have I got there than Alonso mooches in with his Ferrari minders. For ten blissful seconds he’s almost alone before the pack engulfs him once more. I stand rooted to the spot as Alonso and the swirling mass of lenses, Dictaphones and notepads swarm either side of me, like one of those massive flocks of starlings on the wing. It’s all slightly?surreal.

I’m shocked – but strangely proud – to see that the most tenacious paparazzo of all is our own David Shepherd, who uses guile, nerve and a particularly sharp pair of elbows to manoeuvre himself into places other paparazzi can’t reach. His brilliant shot of Alonso cornered by the pack captures the madness perfectly.

‘For ten blissful seconds Alonso is almost alone before the pack engulfs him once more’

If Alonso wins races, or even the championship, next year, don’t bet against the World Finals making a return to Spain. Now that would be one helluva party…