Grand Deception

Of the Maserati that does things a little differently.

- Raunak Ajinkya

Speed isn’t everything. There, I said it. My umbilical cord to my childhood cut, I can now move on and tell you exactly why I’ve damningly countered what I’ve believed in since the first time I saw my father creep past 80 kph on a deserted road, his eyes wild with what I can only assume was a sense of misplaced entitlement, as he said, ‘Look! Look at the speedo. Now don’t tell your mother.’ Bless the man.

I had a peek at the GranTurismo’s vitals before it showed up at home. It seemed, according to the spec sheet at least, quietly determined to be a thorn in some faster supercars’ side. It is, indeed, a nice concoction, isn’t it? A 4.7-litre V8 that makes 454 bhp and enough torque to burn a hole in the ground, if need be. But it needn’t, as it turned out. This isn’t the first Maserati I’ve driven; it’s the fifth, in fact, and they’re all the same. They’re all exactly what their spec sheets suggest, except that they go about it in a distinct manner. It’s funny, really. You hardly expect something so achingly pretty to pummel you into submission with its performance unless, of course, its name starts with an ‘F’ and ends with an ‘errari’. But Maseratis do. This one, though; this one’s a little more special.