Bburago Ferrari F40
I had heard somewhere that the differences between Bburago's regular models and their "Executive" line were: the box, the base, and a better paint job. So when I saw a Bburago Ferrari F40 on Ebay with the "Executive" base in the photo, I recognized what it was and bid enough to buy it.
Understand, the "Executive" cars retail for about $60. I had pretty high expectations, even without the box.
The model duly arrived on its heavy, "Executive" base, carefully swathed in bubble wrap. I unwound it and took a look.
This car had obviously been displayed on a shelf somewhere for a long time, its rest apparently never disturbed by the intrusion of a duster. The dust was thick in the crevices, and it took a fair bit of polishing to make it shiny and clean again.
In addition to the dust, there were a number of chips in the paint, mostly along the door-sills/rocker panels. This seems to be a problem area for the F40s -- I've seen at least two others with the same problem. My guess is that it's caused by the action of loose-fitting doors shearing along the edges while closing. More on that later.
Eventually I dismantled the car completely to give it a thorough cleaning. Except for the chipped paint, it was in generally good shape. There are a couple problem areas I'll be noting later on.
The F40 was produced in 1988 as a response to Porsche's 959. While not quite the technological showcase the 959 was (it lacked four-wheel drive, something Ferrari continues to shun to this day), it was just about as fast. (Ferrari claimed a top speed of 201 mph, same as the 959's, and I've seen reports clocking it at speeds from 199 to 203.) Some said it was far prettier than the 959, which was a rather bulbous shape. Others decried the excess of NACA ducts, vents, and the impossible-to-ignore rear wing. My own feelings on the design are mixed: if you remove the wing, the broad, flat rear deck is very like that of a Testarossa -- but the vented plexiglas backlight makes it a better, smoother design. If the hodgepodge of scoops and vents could be cleaned up and consolidated the whole rear end would work more smoothly. And if the giant front fenders, with their gaping vents, were replaced -- well, then it wouldn't look like the racer it was.
It's important to understand that. The 959 raced, but it wasn't a racer. Driving it was smooth, civilized, effortless. It had air conditioning, power windows, and a stereo.
The F40 was a racer that could be driven on the street, like the Ferraris of yore. It lacked air conditioning, sound deadening, and a stereo. The side windows were divided panes of plexiglas, and they slid horizontally to open. The door handles were cables. It was often seen without side mirrors -- they had been removed to reduce the aerodynamic drag.
It was loud, brutal, difficult to drive, and hellishly fast.
Don't get the wrong impression -- it was no stone axe. It didn't make speed like the 427 Cobras, by brute force. It made extensive use of composites -- Kevlar and carbon fiber -- in its structure. The engine, often mistakenly called a V-12, was actually a 3-liter V-8 with four valves per cylinder, twin water-cooled IHI turbos, and massive Behr intercoolers. Screaming at 7000 rpm it put 478 horsepower into the 13-inch-wide rear tires, which either accelerated the car or melted. In case you didn't do the numbers, that's a specific output of 126 horsepower per liter -- not quite the 160 of the Bugatti EB110, but with fewer cylinders and fewer turbos. (To match the F40's specific output, a 5.7 liter Corvette would have to produce 718 hp!)
Now that we've given it the respect it deserves, let's rip into it a little.
Sure, it was sophisticated, and it was fast. But it wasn't beautiful. Most street Ferraris express the pure lines chosen by the designer -- usually Pininfarina -- in a beautiful form. Cars like the 550 Maranello, the F355, or the Dino 206, are symphonies of shape and color.
Not the F40. It was ultimately a descendant of the Dino 206, but it was about as closely related to that remote ancestor as Porsche's 959 was to the VW Beetle. Its most recent ancestor had been the 288GTO, a similar turbocharged V-8 beast that resembled a 328 on steroids. But where the GTO simply sported flared fenders, slotted vents, and a spoiler, the F40 threw restraint to the wind tunnel. Every racing device that could be used to add speed to this "street" car was tacked on, and then Pininfarina was given the unenviable assignment of making it all look good.
Don't blame them too much if it didn't work. This car is a racer, and that's what it looks like.
And that's what the model looks like. Bburago's interpretation of the traditional Ferrari Rosso Corsa red isn't quite as vivid as Maisto's -- a little more orange in it. The small cavallino shield prances on the fenders, marking this as a car intended for racing. The hood sports two small NACA ducts, and the sides and rear deck sport six more! That's not including the slot vents in the rear fenders and rear deck, and the previously mentioned huge front fender vents. This car rivals the Countach for ventilation.
Both the hood and the engine lid are secured by straps -- small plastic ones in Bburago's interpretation. (They seem to be prone to breakage -- the rear ones on my specimen arrived broken.) Popping the hood straps loose lets the hood hinge forward, revealing a spare tire and wheel identical to those mounted on the front end.
Lifting the engine lid offers easy access to the monster engine, showing a wealth of intake runners, intercoolers, and exhaust plumbing. The tires are exposed, lacking the inner fenders of the later F50, and we can see that Bburago has done it again: the thick-centered tires wear the Pirelli P7 tread pattern. The real F40s wore 17" Pirelli P Zero Asimmetricos at the rear, unmistakably different. (The front tires were P Zero Direzionales.)
There is a simple, rather thick black prop rod to support the engine lid. It's slightly bent on my specimen --enough that you notice it. It was similarly bent on another one I saw, so I'm inclined to call that another problem area, and it leads to a third problem:
Since the prop rod is -- well, ugly -- there's a strong temptation to "wedge" the engine lid open for display. Sure, it can be done. But look closely at the hinges! Where it wedges open, the fulcrum of the hinge exerts an upward pressure on the sheetmetal of the roof, tending to press a corner upward. Again, I saw this on another Bburago F40 besides mine. My suggestion: replace the prop rod, or live with its bend, or leave the engine lid closed.
The rear view of the model shows the grille used at the back for ventilation -- I guess it needed more. Unfortunately, to get the correct density of grillework you'd need to use photoetched material. That's fine for a specialty model, but it would drive the cost higher than Bburago's low price point allows, so I can forgive that.
But the taillights look wrong. Comparison with photos shows that the inner brake lights are fine, but the outer amber turn signals have lost their white centers. Maisto did it right on their F50; I know Bburago can do it.
A few other peeves are found around the F40's back end: the slit vents in the fenders aren't cut through, merely depressions; and the "F40" insignia on the driver's side of the wing is a decal. On the real car it was embossed into the surface.
Moving on to the cockpit, we find racing seats with four-point belts. I would rather have found them in the unsecured position, but that's what we get. The main problem is that they desperately need painting -- the plastic they are cast in looks like nothing but plastic. This complaint applies to the seats, too.
The dashboard, on the passenger's side, sports a rather odd decal that appears to represent some sort of control panel, but looks like a strange decal. This is located where photos of the real thing show a glovebox. The interior in general looks unconvincing, with plasticky-looking plastic finishes and colors. It really needs repainting. (Granted, the F40's dash is not the easiest to model. It was covered in a fuzzy dark blue material one British journalist described as "bizarre".)
This is a good model, but it does suffer from several weaknesses. Probably the most serious is the chipping paint along the doorsills -- as I said before, I attribute that to the shearing action of the loose doors. The doors use the pin-and-slot joint, which produces a realistic look as the door opens, but creates an action that requires great precision to control. The doors on my model come off with just a little bit of carelessness, and wobble even in careful handling. (Note: But I've acquired another Bburago F40 since then, with very precise-feeling doors, and no sign of the chipping paint problem. So maybe it's only when they get loose.)
Another weakness I've observed in every Bburago F40 I've seen is the poor fit of the engine lid. It's easy to excuse, as it's a really big piece that calls for a lot of precision. Still, having this show up in every one suggests that the dies weren't fully fine-tuned before being put into production. And they can't blame the prototype -- photos of the real car invariably show an excellent fit.
One final note: while the F40's top speed and acceleration figures are approximately the same as those of its successor, the F50, the F50 accomplished the same performance without undue effort on that part of its driver.
PS: I've also acquired an F40 model by Polistil. Watch this website for another review, and a comparison!
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