Yahoo Autos 2010 Audi R8 5.2 V10 FSI Quattro vs. 2009 Ferrari 430 Scuderia
In northern Italy, Ferrari is king. Lamborghini and Maserati might be just down the road from Ferrari’s nerve center in Maranello, but Ferrari is the only brand truly attached to the Italian psyche, a part of some collective unconscious. Somewhere in every Italian’s brain, tucked away between “secret to cooking perfectly firm pasta” and “how to wear pastel-colored pants without looking like a complete jerk” is the “love Ferrari” file.
The sight of a Ferrari elicits long awe-struck stares that fall just short of construction-worker-grade hip thrusting and whistling. Occasionally the sight and sound of a Ferrari will even cause Italians to literally drop whatever might be in their hands; indeed, a farmer outside of San Giovanni in Persiceto did exactly that, and he was atop a Lamborghini tractor.
Since 1996, Ferrari has won every Car and Driver comparison test it has contested except one, when the Ford GT one-upped a 360 Challenge Stradale. Nonetheless, the company frowns upon our comparing its cars against others. At the risk of Ferrari declining to allow us to test its cars, we keep dreaming up comparisons that might knock the brand off its pedestal.
Today, the challenge comes from Audi. With the exception of the Auto Union race cars of the 1930s and the Audi Quattro of the 1980s, the German luxury arm of the VW family is fairly new to the supercar game. But when the R8 was launched in 2007 with a 420-hp V-8, Audi was nipping at the heels of Ferrari and Lamborghini. But Audi’s latest R8 5.2 FSI appears to be after even bigger fish.
The main source of the R8’s jump on the supercar totem is its Lamborghini-sourced 5.2-liter V-10; you may remember this engine from such cars as the Lambo LP560-4 and the Audi S6 and S8 sedans. In the former, the engine makes 552 horses, but in this venue, Audi saw fit to give the R8 5.2 FSI just 525 horsepower. Even with that firepower, the V-10 R8 still has more ponies than Ferrari’s most powerful mid-engined car, the 503-hp 430 Scuderia.
To figure out where the new V-10–powered R8 fits in the supercar world, we brought together the R8 5.2 FSI and our favorite mid-engined Ferrari, the 430 Scuderia. Wondering about the Lamborghini LP560-4’s whereabouts? Let’s just say the right Lambo couldn’t be provided. Our 300-mile test took us to Italy, through the ancient farmland around Bologna, then into the Apennine Mountains and along the Po River near Milan, whose waters seem to be a kind of Woodstock for mosquitoes. Judging by the river’s ripe aroma, it could use a second “o” in its name. We figured if the R8 can prove itself in the supercar hotbed that is Italy, it can make it anywhere.
With a V-8, the R8 is a completely usable and practical two-seater. Even aging surgeons will find it easy to get in and out of, easy to see out of, easy to use in general—and that makes it a lot like the Acura NSX. Just as that sports car asked little more from its owner than, say, an Accord would, the R8 demands little more effort than does an Audi A4. Bolt a Lamborghini V-10 into the middle of an R8, however, and Audi’s two-seater not only becomes a Ferrari competitor, the transplant effectively, if only partly, changes the R8’s personality.
While the usability of the R8 remains intact, under the aluminum skin is an angrier, more tortured soul. From idle to the 8700-rpm redline, the R8 may sound more muffled than the Monza-ready Gallardo LP560-4, but the tone isn’t softened enough to hide the fact that a monster lurks behind the driver’s seat.
Our enthusiasm for the V-10 was probably helped along by the old-fashioned, honest-to-God manual transmission of our test car, a refreshing change from the computer-controlled, automated manual transmission that has become nearly omnipresent in this class of car. Guiding the shifter through the six-speed’s gates and using a clutch pedal provides direct, human control over the gearbox, making for a closer relationship with the V-10 than would paddle shifters alone. Exploiting the 525 horsepower and 391 pound-feet of torque is that much more satisfying without a layer of computer interference.
Like the R tronic system, the manual has launch control. To activate it, engage the ESP Sport setting, put the car in first gear, and press the accelerator. Engine revs will rise toward redline and then settle between 5500 and 6000 rpm; dump the clutch and go. We used launch control during our preview and achieved a 0-to-60 time of 3.7 seconds. On this test, we experimented and found that an 8000-rpm clutch drop brought the time down to 3.5 seconds. It ripped through the quarter-mile in 11.7 seconds at 122 mph. Those numbers suggest a more violent experience than you’ll get. The transmission and all-wheel-drive system swallowed every outburst the engine dished out without any erratic behavior or ill effects. Still, it’s unlikely owners will subject their expensive R8s to such severe launches, even if they do have the urge to teach a cocky Mustang owner a lesson. And there’s really no need to resort to a transmission-torturing monster launch as the 5.2-liter has enough low-end torque to dispatch most muscle cars.
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Which reminds us: Now that the Italians have discovered the kind of revenue that can be generated from speed cameras, the autostrada is teeming with them. Keeping the Audi’s throttle agape for any length of time more than a few seconds can become an expensive exercise—it takes only 7.9 seconds to get to 100 mph. But the narrow roads that cut through hay fields in the Apennine valley are beyond the prying eyes of Big Brother, and that allowed us to find the 8700-rpm redline over and over again. For all the seeming violence going on behind the driver, little vibration (aside from the sound) enters the leather- and Alcantara-lined cabin.
Handling is much like the V-8–powered R8’s: high limits that are predictable and easy to exploit. Understeer at low speeds is present, but lifting off the throttle jabs the front end back in line. With power at every tire, accelerating out of corners allows for the use of all 525 horses without a hint of wheelspin or threat of ending up in a ditch.
The steering, compared with the Ferrari’s, feels less tactile, as if a thick membrane of maple syrup lies somewhere between the tires and the controls. Brake feel is grabby and overly sensitive; it transitions from “where the hell are they” to “whoa, now I’m stopped” with barely any provocation. Brakes aside, Audi seems to have oozed syrup into every aspect of the Audi driving experience. It is that prophylactic refinement that keeps the R8’s mechanical bits from getting too close to the driver.
The Ferrari doesn’t triumph because it coddles its occupants—it lacks many of the features one would demand in a Chevy Aveo. Its windows, for example, don’t go down. And the extra cost of the 430 over the Audi—nearly $140,000—doesn’t do it any favors. It wins because it provides the definitive supercar experience.
Every piece of the Ferrari seems to have been thoroughly considered, engineered, and tuned by people whose wants and needs are harmonious with our own. Start with the reactive and tactile steering that never fails to relay information through the steering wheel. Subtleties such as a seating position so close to the front axle aren’t noticed until you move from the Audi to the Ferrari. We’re not talking about the relationship between the pedals and the steering wheel, which is nearly perfect. In the Ferrari, you sit closer to the front of the car, as if you’re perched over the front wheels. The benefits are improved forward sightlines, which make the car easier to place in corners, and a greater sensitivity to what’s happening at the front tires’ contact patches. It’s a subtle difference but one that gives the Ferrari an advantage.
Both cars have carbon-ceramic brakes, but the Ferrari’s gently scrub off speed in a more progressive manner. Even the six-speed automated manual gearbox, with its steering-column-mounted paddles, works better than others we’ve driven. Depending on throttle position and engine rpm, shifts can be nearly luxury-car smooth or so snappingly quick that we half expect to see metal chunks lying under the car when we stop. (We checked; it never happened.)
Certainly the engine isn’t fearful of abuse. Nearly a liter down in displacement, the Ferrari engine is just 22 horses short of the Audi V-10. But with a burden of only 3069 pounds to toss around, the Ferrari was able to match the Audi’s 0-to-60-mph time of 3.5 seconds. At higher speeds, the Ferrari gradually makes up for its lack of all-wheel-drive traction and shows off its superior power-to-weight ratio of 6.1 pounds per horsepower. At the quarter-mile, which comes in 11.6 seconds at 127 mph, the Ferrari is traveling 5 mph faster than the Bavarian. The Ferrari is roughly 600 pounds lighter than the Audi, and that lightness infuses the Ferrari with a more responsive feel than the Audi has.
At least some of the mass advantage of the Ferrari is from the lack of sound insulation, and even carpeting. Exposed welds, intricate castings with foam dimples, and the bonded floor panels are all visible from the driver’s seat. Consequently, pebbles thrown into the wheel wells are audible, as is the scrubbing sound of brake pads skimming across the 15.7-inch front carbon-ceramic rotors—stops from 70 mph are among the best in the automotive world, at 143 feet.
And yet, despite its spartan accommodations, we can’t gripe about a lack of refinement. Ride quality is slightly stiffer than in the Audi but never abusive. The race seats looked like they might have us squirming uncomfortably. But even though they lack the fine adjustments and leather lining of the Audi’s, they pamper and are comfortable for longer periods of time.
Unlike the syrupy feel of the Audi, the Ferrari seems to have a light coating of WD-40. There’s enough of a glaze to keep all of the controls from transmitting any harsh vibrations to the driver, but it also feels impossibly slick and direct in its moves. In addition to the nimbleness that comes from less weight, the Ferrari simply feels lower and more grounded than the Audi, as if its center of gravity lies an inch above the road. A 72.5-mph speed through the lane change demonstrates how well balanced the Scuderia is and how willing it is to change direction quickly. The Ferrari seems to have been designed to provoke the driver to go faster; the Audi tolerates speed but lacks the trusty feedback that makes driving fast a thrill in a really expensive car.
Achieving our acceleration numbers required Ferrari’s launch-control system, which automatically sets up the car for a perfect run. It’s a bit odd that the button between the seats marked “L.C.” has absolutely nothing to do with launch control. That button, we were told by Ferrari test driver Raffaele De Simone, is for “making movies.” We took that to mean that it is just for show. To engage actual launch control, first turn the steering-wheel-mounted dial, what Ferrari calls the mannetino, to the “stability-control off” setting. Second, slip into neutral by pulling on both paddle shifters simultaneously. Place your left foot on the brake and engage first gear by pulling on the right paddle and holding it until an “L” appears in the gear display. With your left foot still on the brake, floor the accelerator with your other foot. Do it right, and the V-8 rises to roughly 4500 rpm. Next, get off the brake while keeping the throttle pegged. The Scuderia dumps its clutch and fires forward with the perfect amount of wheelspin, as if Schuey himself were behind the wheel. Launch control engages the clutch violently, so Ferrari recommends performing a slow gradual start before each launch to clean off the clutch disc.
North of about 3300 rpm, a heavy foot on the accelerator opens valves in the exhaust that bypass the muffler, adding a race-car-like sound (a deafening 104 decibels at full throttle) to the laundry list of race-car-like things the Ferrari can do. Should the future bring a world of electric cars with whiny little four-cylinder engines whose only job is to moan out electricity, then this V-8 may come to be considered internal combustion’s last great breath.
There’s art in every detail of the Ferrari but, with the exception of the Pininfarina-designed body, it’s not the kind of fine art one finds at the MOMA. The Audi’s parts seem more contrived and overtly styled. To our eyes, the Audi’s V-10 seems to have been engineered and then redesigned to look good by people who went to art school. The Ferrari is full of art made by engineers who seem to really believe that “form follows function” is more than just a phrase used by the phonies in marketing.
There isn’t an ounce of fat in the Scuderia. Ferrari distilled its F430, and what emerged are the crucial parts, ones that enhance the link between car and driver rather than separate them. And those parts all work with a harmony that led to nearly perfect subjective scores. For now, the Italian obsession with Ferrari is justified.
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