Ferrari 430 Scuderia Review
The Ferrari 430 Scuderia has always lived in the shadow of its 360 Challenge Stradale and 458 Speciale stablemates. But, as Craig Toone explains, that needs to change fast.
Photography by Ben Midlane
Published on 19th July 2024
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Ferrari 430 Scuderia Review
The Ferrari 430 Scuderia has always lived in the shadow of its 360 Challenge Stradale and 458 Speciale stablemates. But, as Craig Toone explains, that needs to change.
Scud Missile - Ferrari 430 Scuderia Review
The Ferrari 430 Scuderia has always lived in the shadow of its 360 Challenge Stradale and 458 Speciale stablemates. But, as Craig Toone explains, that needs to change faster than an F1 Superfast 2 transmission.
Photography by Ben Midlane
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uring Pulp Fiction, the extended-cut, Mia Wallace informs Vincent Vega that: “There are only two kinds of people in the world: Beatles people and Elvis people. Now, Beatles people can like Elvis and Elvis people can like The Beatles, but nobody likes them both equally. Somewhere you have to make a choice.” The implication being that whoever you choose defines who you are and your personality.
You can apply Quentin Tarentino’s logic to the world of cars: you’re either a Ferrari acolyte or an advocate of Porsche. I’ve always considered myself a Beatles guy (insert your own appropriate quip about the 911’s origins here). The more subtle, under the radar qualities of the products of Stuttgart have always held greater appeal than those of flamboyant Maranello. A Porsche just gets on with business. It doesn’t need to shout about it. It doesn’t need a theme park.
I was mulling over the rich history of these two fierce rivals on the eve of popping my Ferrari cherry, yet I remained steadfastly dug in in my Zuffenhausen trench. That was until the next morning, when Maranello struck with such force that I felt like slicking back my hair and growing sideburns in tribute to The King. There I was, on the edge of Kielder Forest, aiding snapper Ben in his preparations for the day ahead and surveying the peaceful glen below, when suddenly I heard the sound.
It starts off faintly – the ears straining to capture dulcet tones dancing on the wind – before fading back to silence and tranquillity. Then: Whaaaaarrrp! Without warning, the sound returns. Inexplicably closer, louder and more feral – and utterly hypnotic and seductive. It wails and climaxes to a crescendo, pausing for breath before angrily reaching for the high note once again.
The glen morphs into a living entity, amplifying each scream of the onrushing V8. A flash of red is glimpsed between the pines: nature’s warning of a hunter closing in. The sound comes at us from all directions now, reverberating around the valley. The topography is a willing accomplice – playing tricks on the senses and disorientating the vulnerable prey.
Then, out of the treeline, the beast appears, pursuing a path towards us at breakneck speed. It dances around a series of corners with breathtaking agility. In the final approach, the sonic assault climaxes once more, before the beast is brought to a sudden and dramatic stop inches before us. Its beating heart slayed.
Our meeting point above the Caddroun burn provides a uniquely-acoustic setting, suited to this dramatic display. Long, deep and narrow, cushioned by a pine forest on the opposite side, you’d christen it nature's own amphitheatre… If it wasn’t for the tell-tale efficient rows of the original saplings and the uniform ambition of their reach into the sky. The perch I’m standing upon is man-made too – a shale pedestal protruding outwards, jolie-laide in design. It should be an ugly blight, yet somehow it works: man and nature melding together.
Mark – the owner of this particular Prancing Horse and disturber of the peace – emerges from the car, donned in shades and sliders. There is just enough time for a hearty “what a fucking road” greeting before we hear the sound once more – this time refracted off the valley head miles away – and we all fall to silent contemplation. I thought the speed of sound was supposed to be faster than any mere production car. Clearly it plays second fiddle to the 430 Scuderia.
AUTHOR
Rush Founder
Photography by;
Ben Midlane
Published on:
18/8/2024
OUR PRINT MAGAZINE
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I’m sure everybody has a fantasy about driving their first Ferrari but I must admit I was more than a little intimidated to drive the Scuderia – a hyper-focused, stripped-out version of the F430 Berlinetta with the wick dialled up to over 500bhp. This wasn’t due to a lack of faith in my ability but simply my respect for somebody else’s property - a mental block created by the £200,000 value of the car. Up until this point, the fastest mid-engined motor I’d driven was a Porsche Boxster S of the 986 vintage. Doubling the horsepower and increasing the value twentyfold is quite the step up.
Even parked up, it’s clear the Scuderia means business. The engine sheds excess heat through cover vents like a sleeping dragon ready to breathe fire. I’ve never been the biggest fan of the regular F430 Berlinettas styling, feeling that it lacks the cohesion of Pininfarina’s finest, but there is a purpose to the Scuderia that’s alluring. There’s art in the engineering of this car: from the hunkered down stance, to the reformed aerodynamics and cooling, to the obsessive use of deeply glossy carbon fibre at every opportunity. The gorgeous, lightweight forged alloys are bolted over the top of enlarged carbon ceramic brakes (up ¾” to 398 mm) and the calliper clearance features the sort of tolerance only used by NASA. Speaking of bolts, those on the wheels are fashioned from titanium – as is the majority of the suspension componentry. Super strong, super lightweight – it’s a theme that runs through the entirety of this car.
The hardcore aesthetic continues to gain momentum when you swing open the driver's door and lay eyes on even more carbon. The weave is used for the door cards, seat shells and as a housing for the shift lights in the steering wheel. The dashboard is clad in alcantara instead of leather and the glovebox has been replaced by a net. Still, what is by far the most evocative element is the bare aluminium floor and the exposed welds in the footwell. The welds aren’t even particularly well-finished, but jettisoning the carpets not only saves weight – it harks right back to the F40 and speaks directly to my inner child. The one pressing his nose up against the window of Stratstone Ferrari Manchester. In total, 100kg has been cut from the regular F430 – resulting in a kerb weight of 1,349kg.
What you can’t see through that bare floor pan is the extensive revisions to the car’s underbody. Ferrari claims downforce is up to 300kg at the Scuderia’s top speed of 198mph, yet the drag coefficient of the standard F430 is maintained. At the back, the new rear diffuser has gone full-blown alien invasion sci-fi and the rear grill, again fashioned from carbon fibre, takes heavy inspiration from the Challenge racers.
The Scuderia benefits from a power-to-weight ratio increase of 42bhp/ton over the regular F430 Berlinetta
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It’s all so easy that it almost robs you of the cerebral moment of contemplation before you turn the key and thumb the starter button, giving life to all eight cylinders and 48 valves. I can imagine the Ferrari powertrain engineers smiling wryly as they calibrated the slightly-too-long starter motor sequence, that seemingly eternal inhale you take before the ignition fires and the exhaust blares and settles into an impatient idle.
The gearbox is a doddle to operate. There is no BMW SMG nonsense, with 42,000 settings to grapple with, and the car creeps forwards obediently with a brush of the throttle. Yet the Ferrari is already egging me on – and it all stems from the ridiculous tractability of a mesmerising naturally-aspirated motor. Honestly, as cliche as it sounds, the throttle pedal behaves as if connected directly to the synapses in your spinal cord – so instantaneous is the response, so telepathically judged is the thrust received, and so sweet is the vocal approval from the 90 degree V8. Outright traction is also indomitable. As long as you’re not a complete gorilla on the throttle, introducing the pedal to the bulkhead with a smooth arc, full-bore acceleration and maximum attack upshifts are possible from first gear all the way into fourth without a hint of complaint from the rear tyres.
You might wish for a Ferrari to emit a creamy symphony, one that evolves with every single revolution. But honestly, the V8 spins so fast, there isn’t the time – the tone simply changes in stages. First, the exhaust valves come over all antisocial at 3,000 rpm, then the note hardens again as the needle rockets past 6k – at which point the shift lights start giving you epilepsy and you’re closing in on the 8,640 rpm redline faster than an avalanche freefalling down the side of Mont Blanc. It’s like VTEC on acid.
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Obviously, it comes as no surprise to find more horses in the V8’s stable - pun intended. We’ve gained 20 of them but, more importantly, the powertrain team has also played with the torque curve – widening the reach of the 347lb-ft peak. Liberating the extra power from the 4.3 litre engine is a revised intake plenum, a Challenge-derived exhaust system – new pistons with a higher compression ratio (11.88:1) and a tweaked ECU. The specific output is now up to 117bhp/litre.
The “F1 Superfast 2” gearbox also fights hard for your attention. It maybe even eclipses that manic engine – it's that exciting. Banish any thoughts about a lurching 360 Challenge Stradale or E60 M5, this gearbox is in another dimension - changes happen as fast as you can pull a paddle. The headline 60 milliseconds shift time is only accessed above 50% throttle or north of 5,000rpm. For perspective, the regular F430 shifts in 150 milliseconds – almost three times as long. Even the FXX clocks in at 80ms. F1 cars of the time were banging home 40ms shifts.
This gives the gearbox the speed of a dual clutch; however, it still maintains the heavy metal, mechanical fury of a single clutch change. Despite such aggressive shift times, swapping cogs at such a rate never upsets the back axle, and you don’t receive a heavy dose of whiplash or motion sickness with every full bore upshift. From where I’m sitting a dual-clutch transmission seems redundant. This gearbox is so sublime, so addictive, you’ll catch yourself shifting gears just for the hell of it, like you would in a manual. It is central to the entire experience of the car.
I always dreamed my first Ferrari experience would centre around stirring one of those iconic, open gate H-pattern manuals, but I’m going to commit it to paper: fitting a manual gearbox to the Scuderia would ruin it. Want a metaphor? I’m sorry, only an expletive will do: changing gear in the Scuderia is fucking life affirming. Days afterwards, I would find myself clawing at an imaginary paddle as I bumbled along my commute. Sadly, Ferrari perfected the F1 transmission right as it went out of fashion.
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"The overwhelming feeling is of a car with a sublime balance and practically zero inertia – from the way the V8 spins to 8,000+ rpm, to the ability of the carbon ceramics to shed big numbers with a typically Italian shrug of the shoulders..."
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Once you have become accustomed to the head rush of the powertrain, you can concentrate on the rest of the car. The turn-in is another high point. The steering is very light, super direct and oh-so-perfectly geared. Some may assume this lightness might be a little disconcerting in a mid-engined car, especially if big speeds are introduced, but honestly – at road pace – the car is so planted. If you need it, the nose will dart for an apex with complete commitment, or change direction as quickly as the fast twitch muscles in your forearms can react. And it’ll stay completely flat whilst doing so, for the Scuderia simply refuses any form of body roll.
The overwhelming feeling is of a car with a sublime balance and practically zero inertia – from the way the V8 spins to 8,000+ rpm, to the rate the car can change direction with complete composure, and the ability of the carbon ceramics to shed big numbers with a typically Italian shrug of the shoulders. Mark likens it to a big Lotus Elise and I completely endorse the extrapolation.
The sensory assault is constant. Your fingertips buzz with feedback and your spine tingles to the pulse of that V8. But the key is this: it is never tiring. This is because the car is surprisingly comfortable. Save for the clinking rose joints, you’d swear the Scuderia is no more taxing than the regular F430. The Lexan rear window reduces mass – high up mass – yet it doesn’t rattle or vibrate. The seats are perfectly moulded, but you won’t need to rearrange your vertebrae to appreciate them. The fabric is grippy and they remain comfortable after hours at the wheel. You’ll even forget you’re wearing harnesses after a while.
Speaking of touring, the V8, for all its noise, is never harsh and, despite being naturally-aspirated, torque is plentiful. At one point, I was cruising along the sweeping A68, stuck behind a pack of motorbikes. Maintaining their rhythm was no hardship using the impressive mid-range urge of the V8 - I was doubly impressed when I assumed I was loping along in fourth gear, only to look down at the digital readout and see a five flashing back at me.
Famous glass rear screen showing off the mighty V8 has been switched for a Polycarbonate item saving weight.
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And then there’s the brakes. You read online horror stories about carbon-ceramic brakes when cold but, across mixed driving, the brakes on the Scuderia were never anything more than completely faithful and powerful. In fact, so well-judged was their operation, I genuinely remember little about them. You might see that as a backhanded compliment, but it’s just that the rest of the car is so bloody raw and unhinged, some assets fade into the background.
One of the assets you’re constantly appreciative of is the damping – specifically bumpy road mode. It doesn't suddenly mean the S in Mercedes S-Class stands for Scuderia – what it does is give the damping incredible poise, smoothing off all the rough edges and opening up even the most weathered of B-roads for play. It’s underpinned by a reassuring firmness, but is never harsh. All this despite the car riding 15 mm closer to the ground than the Berlinetta. Witchcraft.
What’s interesting is, whilst you’re enjoying yourself, there is some seriously sophisticated technology plying its trade in the background but, so seamless is its interaction with the chassis, you’d swear everything was natural. I’ve always taken the whole “F1 technology for the road” line from Ferrari with a pinch of salt, but it seems the Scuderia really can back this claim up.
There is enough electronic wizardry occurring here to baffle Alan Turing. Central is the E-diff – the first of its kind pioneered on the regular F430, but revised and sharpened up to suit the higher grip capabilities of the wider, stickier tyres and bigger brakes. Its action is integrated with the gearbox and programmed in unison with the F1-Trac stability and traction control systems. Ferrari claims the technology offers 40% more acceleration coming out of corners than a traditional mechanical set up and, given how well the Scuderia hooks up, I can believe it.
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It’s a hardware and software unison that is enough to see the Scuderia lap Ferrari's fabled Fiorano test track in an Enzo-humbling time. A mere four years prior, the Enzo was Maranello’s flagship hypercar, the very best it could do with money no object. The £172,500 asking price of a Scuderia made it a comparative bargain – at least in performance terms.
Much has been made of Michael Schumacher’s input into the development of the Scuderia. One specific request Herr Schuey made was the ability to operate the above traction and stability controls independent of the suspension setting. If this hadn’t been taken on board, I might’ve been writing about a very different feeling car. Everything is dialled in via the Manettino switch on the steering wheel. It could’ve been a gimmick, but it genuinely works intuitively – although in the real world, you’ll quickly default to the Race setting (loosens intervention, but still gives maximum drive forwards) combined with bumpy road mode, and pretty much leave it there the entire day. If you want to be a hero, you can have traction off with stability on, or make the cross of the Holy Spirit and turn it all off.
Flaws? Of course the Scuderia has some – every car does. The most noticeable driving glitch is some mild understeer present in low-speed corners. It wasn’t unpleasant or scary – the nose just washed a little wide of my requested line. Twice it happened to me, and both times the otherwise excellent steering failed to telegraph it.
Mark informs me the car is rather sensitive to set-up and tyres. Before a recent thorough fettle by The Supercar Tech in Edinburgh, Mark had the Scuderia up for sale because he hadn’t fully gelled with it – unable to trust “a disconnected and wandery front end when pressing on” and a driving position that felt far too high for a car of this ilk.
“At TST, the car got a new set of Continental SportContact 7’s to replace the 10-year-old P Zero Corsas, and what a difference this has made - the ride quality and grip levels are night and day improved. I chose a more road-biassed tyre because that's where the car spends the majority of its time. Paul also replaced some worn suspension components that would account for the loose front end. Finally, we lowered the driver’s seat to its lowest position - I wasn’t even aware this was something that could be done, but the car is absolutely transformed.
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“I can’t quite believe what these three changes collectively have done to the driving experience. It now feels like I always wanted it to: steering and suspension feels as tight as a drum, with a lovely supple ride quality and huge corner stability from entry to exit. The lowered driver’s seat means that, all of a sudden, it feels like I actually fit in the car and the driving position is now perfect. I’m actually pretty gobsmacked at the difference.”
I’ve no doubt a BMW M3 or Alfa Romeo Giulia Quadrifoglio – with their equally fat tyres and steroidal mid-ranges – could keep pace with, or even outrun, the Scuderia. I know for certain a 488 Pista would make mincemeat of this car in an airfield drag race on YouTube.
But that completely misses the point. The V8 doesn’t just turbo torque from 20-120mph in the blink of an eye, with a turbine suffocating the soundtrack. The Scuderia is still a thrillingly fast car – nought to sixty takes 3.6s and 100mph will flash by in eight – yet extended periods of full throttle can still be safely used, exploited even, on the public road.
The Scuderia is a car that transcends the physical art of driving. Where the perfect apex is forgotten about and acceleration times and peak lateral-g numbers fade away. Yet within the storm, you – the driver – are calm. The heart is pumping and the adrenaline is firing, but it’s not a fretful or nervous energy. You’re happy – revelling in the moment. You feel in control and that the car is working with you, rather than judging you.
There is so much texture to driving the Scuderia. It feels like the essence of Ferrari: capturing all of the emotive drama and distilling away any of the old-fashioned compromises. I want to drive it until the oil fields run dry and all the petrol stations across the land are derelict. And, when that happens, I’ll just close my eyes, access my hippocampus and download the memory of the sound and stick it on repeat. I’m rather fond of my new sideburns and I’m now on the look-out for a Ferrari-embroidered rhinestone jacket if you happen to know a place…
Scuderia rides 15mm lower than the regular F430. Manettino switch offers five modes; Icy, Sport, Race, CT Off (disables traction control while leaving the stability control active) and CST Off, which turns off every driver aid.
Ferrari 430 Scuderia Stats, Performance and RUSH Rating
Engine
4,308 cc 90 degree V8, 48 valves, max 8,640 rpm
Bore and Stroke 3.26 x 3.19 in (92 x 81 mm)
503 metric horsepower / 510 PS @ 8,500 rpm
347 lb-ft. @ 5,250 rpm
11.88:1 compression ratio
117 bhp/litre
CO2 - 360 g/km
Transmission
6 speed paddle shift single clutch automated manual
Electronic differential “E-Diff2 (E-Diff + F1-Trac)
Brakes
Carbon-ceramic, front 15.6 x 1.4 in (398 X 36 mm)
Rear 13.7 x 1.3 in (350 X 34 mm)
Tyres
Front 235/35 19”
Rear 285/35 19”
Chassis
Rear wheel drive, mid engine layout
43:57 front/rear distribution
Double wishbone suspension all-round
Adaptive “magna-ride” dampers
Titanium springs
Wheelbase 102.4 in (2600 mm)
Front track 65.7 in (1669 mm)
Rear track 63.6 in (1616 mm)
Weight
Kerb Weight 2975 lb (1350 kg)
Power-to-weight 373 bhp/tonne
Torque-to-weight 257 lb-ft/tonne
Performance
0-62 mph (0-100 km/h) in 3.6 s
0-124 mph (0-200 km/h) in 11.6 s
0–1000 m in 20.9 s
Maximum Speed 198 mph (320 km/h)
RUSH RADAR
Steering - feedback & responses
Drivetrain - throttle response, power delivery
Performance
Value - running costs & residuals
Chassis & Handling Balance
Ride & damping
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Engine
4,308 cc 90 degree V8, 48 valves, max 8,640 rpm
Bore and Stroke 3.26 x 3.19 in (92 x 81 mm)
503 metric horsepower / 510 PS @ 8,500 rpm
347 lb-ft. @ 5,250 rpm
11.88:1 compression ratio
117 bhp/litre
CO2 - 360 g/km
Transmission
6 speed paddle shift single clutch automated manual
Electronic differential “E-Diff2 (E-Diff + F1-Trac)
Brakes
Carbon-ceramic, front 15.6 x 1.4 in (398 X 36 mm)
Rear 13.7 x 1.3 in (350 X 34 mm)
Tyres
Front 235/35 19”
Rear 285/35 19”
RUSH RADAR
Steering - feedback & responses
Drivetrain - throttle response, power delivery
Performance
Value - running costs & residuals
Chassis & Handling Balance
Ride & damping
Chassis
Rear wheel drive, mid engine layout
43:57 front/rear distribution
Double wishbone suspension all-round
Adaptive “magna-ride” dampers
Titanium springs
Wheelbase 102.4 in (2600 mm)
Front track 65.7 in (1669 mm)
Rear track 63.6 in (1616 mm)
Weight
Kerb Weight 2975 lb (1350 kg)
Power-to-weight 373 bhp/tonne
Torque-to-weight 257 lb-ft/tonne
Performance
0-62 mph (0-100 km/h) in 3.6 s
0-124 mph (0-200 km/h) in 11.6 s
0–1000 m in 20.9 s
Maximum Speed 198 mph (320 km/h)