Why the Bora is the best classic Maserati | Thank Frankel it’s Friday

Was that fair? I found out one day years ago. This was back in the day when Maserati and Ferrari sat on the same branch of the Fiat group and its enlightened UK managing director decided it needed some historic cars on its press fleet for idiots like me to sample and become even further immersed in the brands, as if that were possible. He bought a Dino and a Daytona and also a load of Maseratis.

And one day he took the Masers somewhere and invited some hacks to drive them. If my memory serves, he had a Ghibli, a Khamsin, an Indy, a Mexico and Bora. And I know I should remember what each was like but it was a long time ago and my overwhelming memory of that day was one of disappointment. It’s so hard to judge what old car would have been like when new because it’s often difficult to tell whether faults were designed in at birth or acquired over time. I remember the Mexico was reasonable, but the Ghibli, Khamsin and Indy were just great engines in great looking but otherwise really quite forgettable cars. I’d love to drive them in terrific condition to find out whether the cars I drove back then were just poor examples.

Which left the Bora. I drove it last and with zero expectations. And I remember it now not just because it’s 50 years since its launch, but because of the one I saw on the Cartier Style et Luxe lawn at the Festival of Speed presented by Mastercard this year and falling in love with its look all over again. I know a Countach is more dramatic, a Boxer more pulchritudinous, but for the purity of its line, I think the Bora is at least the equal of its more vaunted and famed opposite numbers.

Back then and after all the others, I approached it with a sense gathering gloom. I really didn’t need another dream shattering that day.

It turns out I need not have worried. Because unlike its stablemates, it was absolutely superb. Fitted with the later, larger 4.9-litre V8 it felt properly rapid: I really doubt a Boxer would have been much faster. And unlike the other Maseratis it didn’t wallow about or try to fall over or turn around then moment you approached a corner. It was taut, it was balanced, it was quick. It was fun.

Best of all, particularly given the level of expectation provided by 1970s Italian supercars, it was really comfortable. Not only did it have beautiful ride quality, but instead of having to contort yourself into that strange short legged, long armed driving position favoured by the other Modenese manufacturers back then, you simply sat in a fixed seat and pulled not only the steering wheel but the pedal box towards you.

The silly thing is, if I had the money to buy and the time to use such a car, I’d still go and buy a Boxer despite the fact I’m fairly confident the Bora is the better car. And I’m not sure why. I think it has something to do with the fact that Ferraris and Lambos were hardwired into my psyche from childhood. There were Daytonas and Boxers, Miuras and Countachs all over my bedroom walls. But no Maseratis that I recall, and certainly no Boras. But these are rare cars with a beauty that goes far below the skin. One day I hope I get to sample one again. But only if it’s a good one.

Blue Bora images courtesy of Bonhams, Goodwood image by Dominic James.