Ferrari 599 GTO v F12 tdf v 812 Competizione

To drive any one of them would be a day to remember, but this is the first time all three have even been thoroughly tested on the road together, and we at Ti cannot thank their owners enough for trusting us with these rare, important and extraordinary cars.

You’ll probably not be surprised to discover the 599 GTO is the rarest. Just 599 were built. Despite the ‘O’ in its name standing for ‘Omologato’, here it is just a letter with no additional significance. Although said to be derived from the 599XX track car, this GTO was never designed to race. But it is still a very serious weapon.

Like all those here, it uses a variant of the F140 V12 motor first seen in the Enzo in 2002 and used by all V12 Ferraris over the last 20 years save the 612 Scaglietti, which was the last to use the earlier F133 motor that started life in the 456 in 1992. With the standard 599 already pushing 612bhp from its 6-litre capacity, the GTO raised that figure to 661bhp, more even than the Enzo, whose nose was put even further out of joint when the GTO proved an entire second quicker around the quite short Fiorano lap than its purpose built hypercar stablemate, thanks not least to carrying 84kg less than a stock 599.

Which seems like a good time to mention that few things are ever simple when it comes to the weights of Ferrari, and if you go online you’ll find a whole host of contradictory masses claimed for these cars. So, in the interests of consistency, all weights quoted here come directly from Ferrari’s current website where, handily, both dry and kerb weights are now given.

Of the three, the GTO is the outlier. The tdf and Competitzione are cut from the same cloth, both figuratively and literally, using the same platform and therefore much of the same hardware, such as the seven-speed double-clutch gearbox. In almost all significant dimensions, the tdf and Comp are millimetres away from each other and sit on identical wheelbases.

So you might be surprised to learn that the earlier GTO is not only the heaviest of three – though not by much – but also the largest. It is both longer and higher than its descendants and puts more air between its front and rear wheels too. But there is much all three share beyond the origins of their engines. All come with lightened bodies, make more extensive use of carbon fibre, have carbon ceramic braking systems and manettino controls (should that be manettini?) on their steering wheels allowing drivers to adapt suspension, engine, traction and stability parameters according to their requirements.

The GTO’s cockpit looks older – because it is – with clunkier graphics for its few electronic dials and a poorer quality of finish. It has a more raw feel, even before you’ve thumbed the red starter button and summoned the V12 from its slumbers. But I’m expecting its age to be felt most in its transmission. Like the other two it has a pair of pedals and paddles, but this is a single-clutch, robotised manual gearbox – an electronically actuated stick shifter in other words, and they’re all flawed.

Really, it’s hard to believe so few years separate GTO from the tdf. It’s more easily understood when you consider the GTO’s platform dates back to the 612’s launch in 2003, while the F12 was brand new in 2012, so there’s almost a decade between their generations. The tdf engine displaces only 263 additional cubic centimetres, but it produces 109bhp more, enough to raise its specific output from 110 to 123bhp per litre. It has far more torque, too, at only fractionally higher revs and is substantially the lightest of the three. Like the others the tdf has a minimised interior and carbon where aluminium would once have been found – leading to a 112kg weight reduction over the standard F12 Berlinetta, it having been on by far the strictest diet of the three.

The big innovation that made its Ferrari debut on the tdf was rear-wheel steering, which could turn said wheels by up to a degree in either direction, either in sync or opposition to those at the front according to need. The driving position seems a little more snug than the GTO’s, the cabin a touch more wrapped around you. It oozes purpose.

As does that of the 812 Comp, which should not be much of a surprise as it’s very closely related to that of the tdf. But while the earlier car seems of its era, this cabin looks dated for a 2023 machine, especially for those familiar with the interiors of the SF90 Stradale and 296 GTB whose screens and graphics seem a couple of generations (at least) ahead of the 812’s. But I’m guessing that’s not why people buy these cars. And buying them they are: it’s interesting to note that while Ferrari only sold 599 GTOs, and 799 tdfs, there’ll be not only one fewer than a thousand 812 Comp coupés, but also a further 599 Competizione A models, where the ‘A’ stands for Aperta, signifying the first time Ferrari has offered an open version of its limited edition flagship. And despite this and the fact it seems highly unlikely any 812 Comp will transact for less than half a million once a few choice extras have been recommended, they’ve all sold out; and when you see flipped cars up for sale for more than double that amount, it’s not hard to see why.

Having already bored the engine out by as much as it would take between the 599 and F12, the additional 234cc added to the 812’s capacity to bring it close to the full 6.5-litres has been achieved by adding to its stroke. This, you would think, would increase torque but reduce the revs at which peak power was reached. But this is Ferrari and where engines are concerned, it’s never been much a respecter of convention. So while we should not be surprised that its 819bhp bests the 769 of the tdf, we should be astonished that it hits that peak at, wait for it, 9250rpm and runs to a rev-limiter set at 9500rpm. The tdf hits max power at 8500rpm and, poor lamb, is all done by 8900rpm. Yet the Comp actually has a little less peak torque than the tdf, and requires more revs – fully 7000rpm – to reach it.

Two more things to mention before we start driving: the 812 was the first Ferrari fitted with electronic power-assisted steering and while the Comp also has four-wheel steering, the rear wheels steer not only independently of those at the front, but of each other too.

When I first drove the 599 GTB back in 2006 I reckoned it would end up in the pantheon with the Daytona and 275 GTB/4 among the greatest front-engined Ferraris of all time. I now think I was probably wrong about that. But when it came out, the GTO somehow slipped the net, so I never got the chance to get that wrong too. Today is my very first go.

As I note I’m sitting a little higher than in the other two. I smile also at the manual handbrake, another much missed blast from the past. The engine sounds purposeful as I snag a gear and head out onto the road. At once the ride seems a little coarse – no problem, think I – I’ll just press the famed ‘bumpy road’ button before realising the GTO doesn’t have one. Progress is slightly firm and while it smooths out somewhat with speed, it never settles down completely.

The gearbox? It’s the best single-clutch paddleshift I’ve tried, which is not to say it’s a patch on the double-clutch ’boxes of its stablemates because it’s not; but with only a little learning you can drive it as smoothly and with very little additional delay on the upshifts and barely any at all on the whipcrack downshifts. So far so good.

And it just goes on getting better. The engine is simply magnificent, more blessed with low down torque than the bald numbers suggest but building to a gloriously unhinged crescendo like all Ferrari’s best V12s. But in fact it’s the chassis I’m enjoying more. Its steering is both slower and heavier than we see in contemporary Ferraris and it benefits from both. There’s real feel here and while grip is limited by the Michelin PS4S tyres its owner quite rightly runs it on (the others are both on standard fit Pirelli P Zero Corsas), the limit is beautifully signalled and more than high enough for road use. When it starts to slip, either at the front mid-corner or the rear as you accelerate, it is almost as docile as an original 250 GTO and a far cry from the scarily spiky 288 GTO that sits between them. By the time I am back at base I’ve forgotten all its flaws, save the rather dead feel of its early ceramic brake discs, and am charmed beyond words.

I expect to be something closer to terrified by the tdf. Unlike the GTO, the tdf and I have previous, involving a press car on Michelin Cup 2s, and a January day in a damp Wales with the temperature just one degree above freezing. Rare are the jobs from which I’ve been more pleased to return in one piece. All three are beauties,  but the tdf is the prettiest of them all, having better lines than the GTO and cleaner detailing than the 812 Comp. But I know this car is an animal; indeed I know Ferrari designed it specifically to ask questions its driver would likely not have encountered in any other car.

Its ride is super-firm too, but better controlled than the GTO’s, especially once you’ve pressed the bumpy road button. But while the GTO is sufficiently reassuring to make you happy to dive straight into the deep end of all it can offer, something in the tdf’s nature plus previous experience no doubt makes me want to walk slowly into the shallows. And even then, when you do finally set caution aside and let the tdf do its thing, you still find your breathing coming in short, sharp gasps. From around 5000rpm onwards, it is utterly ferocious, a demonic thing whose searing song instantly occupies all the space between your ears. It is magnificently, gloriously intimidating. And we’ve not even got to a corner yet.

The good news is that it no longer seems to want to mug me, which is not to say it does not still require a great deal of attention. It does. The steering is too quick and notably lacking in feel compared to the GTO’s helm, so much so I had to check that it didn’t come with an electrically assisted rack. In tight turns you can feel the rear-steer shortening the wheelbase and as you come off and on the throttle it leaves no doubt about its preferred handling condition: neutral in steady state with as many sides of oversteer as you could ever hope to handle. But not here, not today. This is a visceral, heart-thumping thing to drive and I’ve still got the even more powerful, visually aggressive and, on its titanium pipes, loudest one to go. It’s time to head over to the 812 Competizione.

The expletives come almost immediately, but for the last reason you might expect. Button pressed, the Comp rides preposterously well. Sitting next to me our photographer Olgun Kordal blurted out, ‘but, this rides better than my [Mercedes-Benz] CLS!’ His air sprung, non-AMG CLS that is.

Onward we press. The steering seems even quicker than the tdf’s (and positively hyperactive compared to the GTO), but the car is easier to place and instantly more confidence inspiring. Electric power steering that bests the hydraulic system it replaces? No question at all. You can use more of the Comp’s modes too. On the road the ‘race’ setting is so maniacal in the tdf you’d only ever use it to scare your passengers. In the Comp, and in a certain frame of mind on a very empty and open road, you might just choose it. But perhaps the strangest thing, given that this car has a 6.5-litre engine that will rev to 9500rpm, the powertrain is actually a fraction less insane than that in the tdf. It would be interesting to see the power and torque curves of both cars, because the impression from the driver’s seat is that the Comp pulls no harder than the tdf but, where its predecessor runs out of puff, it just keeps going.

And on balance I think that’s probably a good thing, because while you’ll hardly ever go there unless you do a lot of track days, that motor, yelling its head off at close to 10,000rpm is one of the most magnificent creations in the history of the car.

I can’t remember when I last turned up to a test with fewer preconceptions about the cars I was about to drive. Of the three I’d driven just one, and that in conditions about as unprepossessing as they come. Truly, I did not know what to expect. If I’d had to guess I’d have looked at the GTO, tdf and 812 Comp and presumed the order went mad, madder, maddest. But that’s not how it turned out.

There were two surprises here, and one that was almost exactly as I imagined. The first surprise was the GTO, not for how like the other two it was, but how different. It feels like it belongs to another, more simple era, where cars are controlled more by hand and foot than brain-boggling electronics. It’s a father to an elder and younger brother. And to a very large part of me, this is an entirely good thing. I’m nearly 3000 words into this story and have yet to use the word ‘analogue’ to describe the GTO because I know the frightful ribbing I’ll get from the Ti crew if I do resort to such a creaky cliché. But what to do when you know no better word to describe the sensation you are trying to convey? So analogue it is, in its steering, its feel, even the pauses you have to take to smooth out the gear changes. It involves and talks to you in a way the others do not.

The tdf was as expected: it is a total monster. True, roads that were warm and dry did trim back its greater excesses, but I don’t doubt they’re all still there, lurking. And even today, it remains a mighty thing to contemplate. This is not one of those Ferraris that challenges its driver for all the wrong reasons like the 348tb, but one that simply asks, no, requires you to step up to its level. Do so and rewards beyond reckoning are there for the taking. Fail to treat it with the respectful but iron hand it commands, and you’ll likely wish you’d stayed in bed.

As for the 812 Comp, it feels for all the world like a car whose engineers and designers were told to produce something that looked both on paper and in the flesh even more deranged than the tdf, but was actually a whole lot easier both to drive and live with. And that I did not expect. But in doing so, they have created an simply extraordinary, and extraordinarily usable device. Someone might even be mad enough to use one as a daily driver, something that’s almost impossible to imagine with either of the others.

Do we need a winner? I usually insist on one – even when the three cars are from the same manufacturer – but these are from different eras too and the imperative seems not so great. But rather than leave you hanging, I’ll put it like this: if you want to know the best car here, it’s the 812 Competizione. It’s the fastest, it’s the most usable and it has a 6.5-litre V12 engine that revs to 9500rpm. I concede I may already have mentioned that, but when you watch the video that will follow this story a few days from now, you will agree it stands repeating.

But the most exciting car here is the tdf, and it is so by a margin. I want a limited edition, bazillion horsepower Ferrari to challenge me for all the right reasons and this one does, more so than any other road Ferrari I’ve driven with the sole exception of the F40, which was and remains my favourite road car of all time.

So the really curious thing is, if I could have one more run up that road, I’d take the GTO. It is the most characterful car here, whose flaws actually add to its charms; it is the car in which I felt most immediately at home, happiest to push hard from the off. And it’s probably the one that, money no object and not allowed to sell, I’d have in my shed, only because I’d enjoy it more, more often than the others. Does that make it the winner? Because it seems to me that the 812 Competizione is the demonstrably the best car here, the tdf clearly the greatest and the GTO the one I want to drive most of all. Of that you will make what you will.

Photography by Olgun Kordal

The Intercooler would like to thank the owners of these fabulous cars for making this feature possible. You can follow them and their collections on Instagram: @rsdriver00 (GTO), @andy74b (tdf) and @stefaneinz (Comp)