Would suit:
Marcello Mastroianni (were he still with us).
Price:
£80 595 (R1 190 000 in SA).
Performance:
265km/h, 0-100km/h in 5.2sec
Combined fuel economy:
19.6 litres/100km.
When I was just a little boy, I asked my mother what would I be. Would I be handsome ("No"), would I be rich ("Unlikely"), and would I drive a Maserati Quattroporte? ("Well, if you get a degree in Eng Lit, do a post-graduate course in journalism, complete some work experience at Time Out, attach yourself to an editor there and, when he moves to The Independent, pester him until he gives you work, grind away doing interviews with boy soldiers in Sierra Leone, earthquake victims in Turkey, and Lionel Blair, and then do lots of pieces in which you accompany readers on nerve-shredding test-drives of new cars until finally they offer you a road-tester's job and, then, once the insurance is sorted out and you've signed forms with lots of small print about liability and risk and suchlike, then yes, you shall").
And so destiny came to pass once more, as I found myself behind the wheel of the most beautiful and desirable car in the world for the third time. The excuse this time is that Maserati has launched two alternative versions of the Quattroporte, a luxury version and a sporty version, costing £9000 (R126 000) and £6000 (R85 000) extra, respectively.
I tried the latter, the Sport GT, which has wheels the size of timpani (well, 20"), a black chrome grill and side vents, quicker gear changes and firmer suspension.
It doesn't actually go any faster than the standard Quattroporte. Then again, if it did it would jeopardise the space-time continuum, so that's probably a good thing.
Less good are the aesthetic changes to this model: the carbon-fibre trim in the cabin, the garish red brake callipers and a horrid red-and-silver Sport GT badge on the B-pillars. The wheels are a little too Pimp My Ride as well.
The Quattroporte is sexylicious, not bootylicious, you dig? For me, its appeal lies in its discretion; the way it gently seduces all who behold it (you behold a Quattroporte, you don't just look at it).
It's the kind of car you might employ if your typical day involved a little shopping on George V followed by a business lunch in Zurich and you had seats at La Scala in the evening.
It's not a car to take to a track day at Thruxton or to video doing doughnuts for a YouTube post. So save the carbon fibre for the Lotus Elises.
Unsurpassed grace and elegance
The luxury model gets curtains and folding walnut tables in the back, which is more seemly, but unfortunately it's called the Executive, which makes it sound like a line of cheap Rex Trueform suits. So that's out of the question, too.
Which leaves the standard car - a wonderful, if flawed, gentleman's express of .
Yes, it has the crappy DuoSelect auto-shift, but if you flap the steering wheel-mounted paddles yourself (there's no manual or fully automatic option, though they are rumoured to be on the way), and you concentrate hard, you can just about avoid making your passengers swallow their false teeth every time you change gear.
Yes, there are faster, better-built sedans, but few five-metre limos weighing close to two tons offer the balance, agility and sheer unadulterated charisma of Pininfarina's masterpiece.
So keep your six grand to pay for the petrol (it should last about a month), and stick with the standard car. As far as the Quattroporte is concerned, the original is definitely best. - The Independent, London