Avanti! Avanti! Urges the engine as the exhaust note booms satisfyingly through the tunnels of the La Provençale Autoroute above Monaco. This is odd; as under the soft leather Lord’s Loafer is the accelerator to a strange beast. A marriage of modern requirement mixed with absolute racing pedigree. A three litre V6, diesel engine of 275 bhp, with nothing less than silk upholstery by the italian designer Zegna and bearing the three point trident.
I don’t think I have ever looked so good stepping out of something. Walking out of business class from LHR to JFK is a close second, but even then you know you’re heading into passport control with the great unwashed. The Maserati Gran Turismo Sport lives in the rarefied atmosphere of the layer cake. My first real super car experience was a jaunt across nonchalant France in a California a few years ago. Paris, Bordeaux and Le Mans were all taken in over the space of a week and it really forged my appreciation for the marque. We would only have two real days with the Maserati and so like…