The Unexpected Opportunity
Every car enthusiast has that one story. The one that ends with “I almost bought it” followed by a sigh. For me, that story stars a Ferrari Testarossa.
It was during the COVID year, the world was uncertain, but a conversation led me to something very unexpected. Word of mouth connected me with a private collector who was looking to part with his Ferrari Testarossa. The catch? It needed work. Serious work. The kind that involves pulling the engine just to change the belts.
A Sleeping Prancing Horse
The car had sat a while. The owner, with a sizable collection of cars and a clear case of Ferrari fatigue, had lost interest. He had no motivation to get the Testarossa roadworthy again. That worked in my favor. No MOT, no tax, and a list of service requirements made it unattractive to many buyers. But for me, it was the chance to buy a legend at a reasonable price.
This was not just any used sports car. It was a chance to own one of the most iconic Ferraris ever made. The wide body, the distinctive strakes, and that flat twelve engine. The Testarossa was never subtle, and even sitting still, it commanded respect. I imagined what it would be like to bring it back to life, to be the one who gave it a second chapter. It was hardly in disrepair but it just need some love to get it going again.
My Plan for Revival
The strategy was simple. I would handle the smaller issues myself and budget for a specialist to do the big jobs, like the belt service and anything deep in the engine bay. It was a win for both sides. He avoided a big bill. I got a Ferrari with potential.
I had worked on plenty of cars over the years, so electrical gremlins, cosmetic fixes, and minor mechanical items didn’t scare me. The belts, on the other hand, did. The engine had to come out, and that was beyond my tools and garage setup. But it was a known cost. It was calculable. And that made it manageable.
A Test Drive That Wasn’t
But the excitement started to unravel when I tried to assess the car in person. There was a misfire. Not a small one either. A persistent, unsettling hiccup that hinted at more than old fuel. Then the insurance complications began. With no MOT or tax, I could not legally or safely test the car on the road. Trade insurance would not cover me in a meaningful way, and the tyres looked like they had been around since the 00s.
This was a high performance car that I could not properly drive. The best I could do was a cautious roll through a parking lot, listening for clues and watching the gauges. I was buying on feel and reputation more than experience. It felt risky, but it still felt worth it.
Garage Geometry Problems
As if that wasn’t enough, a very real problem emerged. My garage. I had measured it. The car would fit, but only just. I realized I would not be able to open the door to get out if I drove it in. So the plan became this: push the car into the garage in neutral. To take it out, I would have to push it backward up a small incline. Not exactly the glamorous supercar experience you imagine when you think Testarossa.
It became clear I would have to develop a routine. Maybe install guide rails. Maybe fit a winch. I was prepared to make it work. After all, it was a Ferrari Testarossa. You make compromises for something like that.
The Ferrari Fever
Still, the car had me. It had presence. It had history. The wide stance, the side strakes, the unmistakable shape. Even in need of work, it had aura. I was dangerously close to making it happen. We agreed on a price. I lined up logistics. I even began to imagine that flat twelve engine coming back to life in my care.
I pictured drives through the countryside. I imagined the admiring glances. I imagined lifting the garage door and seeing it there, waiting. These were not idle dreams. They were part of the process. They justified the hassle, the cost, the risks.
Gone Before It Was Mine
Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone.
The owner sold it. No warning. Just a text message letting me know it had been picked up. Savage. We had a gentlemen’s agreement. I know with things like this you have to move on them. I had adhered to wrapping up the viewing and making my offer within a day of seeing the car. I had arranged transport and requested bank details to place the deposit. I was pretty bummed out with this move by the seller, I wish he had honoured that handshake. It still actually hurts if I am honest.
That was it. The deal that almost happened. A moment in time where I almost became a Ferrari owner. And not just any Ferrari, but the poster car of a generation. I still think about that car, the way it sat there in quiet defiance, waiting for someone to believe in it again.
I am not sure if I am ready to give up. Watch this space.
