Possibly, although on a cold start the sheer ease of selecting first is the potential giveaway. The lever slips home with such insouciance it’s as if one of those test engineers has warmed the oil with a thrash at Fiorano. Being picky, you also don’t feel the clutch pedal gently steeling itself as various plates meet and the driveline fuses; there’s no great sense of an idling engine furtively taking up the weight of the car. It’s all perfectly precise and linear, and you would have to be clumsy to stall (which you can). But it’s also a bit two-dimensional if your idea of three-pedal V12 heaven is a 550 Maranello.
Five minutes later, with the Manuale tearing around Balocco, the story is quite different. Once up and running the elasticities and slick load curves of the clutch and the gearlever actions, accompanied by that addictive metallic zing, feel more convincing.
In fact, very soon the brain accepts the Manuale as the real McCoy: an 819bhp modern, manual Ferrari, with a pin-sharp throttle and turn-in as well as that hallmark handling mischief. All of which, it almost goes without saying, feels absurdly special. Churlish to have doubted Ferrari, the current master of calibration.
As for initation on the move, it’s straightforward. To slip the car into manual mode, simply push the clutch pedal and so long as you’re below 45mph the H-pattern icon on the knob will glow orange to tell you all three pedals are now yours to use. Want it to go back into auto? Press the D button on the centre console at any time.
