No two cars are the same, and they’re known by the location to which they were first delivered. This one is called Somerset. The finish is stunning, the paint deep and liquid to the eye, the door catch clanks like an old 911’s should, and then you have the joy that is the cabin. Woven leather seat inserts, flamboyant nickel-coated everything, and a thin-rimmed Momo Prototipo to grip. The biggest question any Singer owner must face on a daily basis is how long to linger and drool over it as a static object, and when to turn the key. Somehow, it is even better to drive than it is to behold.
Around 1,150kg and with 400hp, it’s a seriously fast car, modern-GT3-quick and just so agile. It’s the only car here with power steering, and as a result, it feels way more modern—but the Singer magic is that it perfectly blends an old-school set of control weights and sensations with a very modern ability to go fast. And the noise is just sublime. I could drive it for months, but time is in short supply today, and that GTO Engineering 250 SWB is winking at me.
At this point, I’ll say something mildly controversial: I think the 250 SWB is the best-looking ’60s Ferrari. The GTO is the holy grail and people pay the crazy bucks for them, but the SWB shape just does it for me—this blue car is in fact so utterly beautiful in the way it sits on those cross-spoke wheels, and that rump of rear-panel work seems to end so deliciously abruptly that I’m not sure that I can bring myself to drive the bloody thing.