Back in a time when the ageing 328 and the flashy Testarossa were the best that Ferrari had to offer, and before the company suddenly remembered that you could still make exciting front-engined cars, it seemed that the firm had lost impetus in the declining years of its founder and bullish driving force, Enzo himself, as Fiat managers moved in. As for me, prancing horses had fallen down the list of desirable machinery. No works Ferraris contested Le Mans, and even the marque’s aesthetics seemed to be coasting on a wave of add-on glassfibre.
The 288 GTO offered a brief spark of excitement but that was a short run purely for homologation, and with the death of Group B any chance of it flying the flag on tarmac rallies or in GT racing evaporated, leaving it as the plaything of a few rich customers. But the financial benefit of that was noted.