Man Maths: Ferrari Mondial

Yet this period produced some of my favourite Ferraris, and I can’t help but wonder if the very chaos in the cauldron in which they were forged imbued them with a unique kind of charm.

Which brings us to the much maligned Mondial, a car that has always had a confusingly intangible appeal to me. Was it the sharp creases along the bodywork? The Testarossa-lite strakes? The crazy idea of seats in the back (although it was by no means the first Ferrari to possess them)? At the time it raised almost as many angry pitchforks as the first Cayenne did for Porsche, or the Purosangue over 40 years later – both ultimately huge successes. Might the Mondial be worthy of such reassessment?

A quick recap on the model evolution, because if you’re going to buy a Mondial, you have but a one in four chance of getting it right. The Mondial 8 was launched at the 1980 Geneva Motor Show, and used the transversely mounted V8 from the contemporary 308 GTBi, producing 214bhp and an underwhelming 188lb ft – think eight-something to 60mph and 143mph. In 1982 the four-valve head was introduced, upgrading the Mondial to QV spec, and 240bhp.

In 1985 the Mondial inherited the larger capacity 3.2 from the then brand new 328, as well as revised suspension and a new interior and exterior design. Having lost weight and now possessing 270bhp and 224lb ft, the 0-60mph time dropped into the sixes whilst top speed reached 156mph.

The final iteration, the Mondial t, was launched in 1989. It took the 300bhp 3.4-litre V8 from the 348, in a brand new north-south arrangement, designed to lower the centre of gravity and thus improve handling.

You might reasonably assume that the t is the one to have, being the final, perfected iteration of the model, and vaunting this most rare of configurations: a longitudinally mounted, mid–engined 2+2. Only the Maserati Merak has ever attempted such architectural ambition.

But there was a problem. The packaging nightmare implicit in the configuration meant Ferrari had to mount the gearbox transversely, using a freshly developed bevel gear set to turn the drive 90 degrees. Instead of a direct rod linkage between shifter and ’box, this new arrangement required cables running the length of the car. And the impact this had on the gearshift was dramatic. Ti’s liege lord Ser Frankel has driven one, so I sent a pigeon to find out what it was like. ‘Absolute shite’ was all that was scrawled in return.

And if that wasn’t enough, the t requires the entire engine and gearbox subframe assembly to be dropped every three years to change the belts, blowing any Man Maths arguments of the Mondial being the cheap Ferrari into the weeds.

So the one you actually want is the 3.2. Enough power to accelerate in an almost-whelming fashion, and handling that stood fine comparison with the identically engined 328. In fact, the Mondial’s longer wheelbase offered greater stability at speed, genuine GT usability, and arguably a more communicative character at road speeds.

‘It offers the indefinable magic of Ferrari motoring as an everyday experience rather than an occasional treat,’ said Alan Henry in Motor Sport of the original Mondial. And having a car you’ll actually use opens up a whole new column of justification in the Man Maths spreadsheet, especially when you consider the fresh historic status, no road tax, ULEZ charge or MOT, and cheap historic insurance.

Speaking of which, a good condition 328 GTB will set you back about £80,000. An immaculate Mondial 3.2 sold at Iconic Auctioneers last month for £34,312. And if that’s still a bit steep for an unpopular Ferrari, a higher mileage but MOT advisory free example went for £25,000 on Collecting Cars in December. Whatever you do though, don’t buy a project. They can present problems so pricey it’s cheaper to scrap the car.

My advice? Buy the best you can, and delight in the open–gated feistiness of a pocket–money prancing horse. Of course, some of that old chaos will spill out of the cauldron occasionally, but isn’t that all part of the charm?