How can you have a Ferrari without any vroom?
In Modena this week, Ferrari broke a century of combustion silence by unveiling the Luce — its first fully electric vehicle — and in doing so, asked a question that haunts every institution built on passion: can a living tradition survive its own reinvention? The devoted faithful, who speak of V12 engines the way others speak of Verdi, felt the ground shift beneath them, while markets wavered and then steadied, as if uncertain whether heritage or ambition would carry more weight. Ferrari's answer, for now, is to build fewer than a thousand cars and trust that the world contains enough wealthy newcomers willing to love something their predecessors never imagined.
- The Luce's silent, five-seat, blue-bodied form landed like a cultural rupture — owners compared it to a vacuum cleaner, a rubber clog, and the world's ugliest car, while Italy's own deputy prime minister questioned what Enzo Ferrari would have thought.
- The prancing horse itself came under threat: former CEO Montezemolo and club president Barone both suggested the Luce had no right to wear the badge, because a Ferrari without its roar is, to them, no Ferrari at all.
- Markets flinched sharply — shares fell 8.4 percent in Milan on unveiling day — before recovering as CEO Vigna reported real buyer interest and reframed the car not as a concession but as an act of courage.
- Ferrari's answer to the silence problem — sensors amplifying axle sound like an electric guitar — satisfied almost no one in the traditional camp, leaving the emotional gap between old and new buyers conspicuously unresolved.
- With production capped below 1,000 units and the design led by Apple's former chief Jony Ive, Ferrari is openly courting a different kind of buyer — one who has never smelled leather in a cockpit or felt a V12 climb through the rev range.
- Analysts suggest the fan revolt may simply be irrelevant to the balance sheet: Ferrari needs only a sliver of open-minded luxury wealth to make the Luce viable, potentially insulating the company from the fury of its own most devoted community.
When Ferrari unveiled the Luce this week, it did something it had never done before: it built a car in silence. The five-seater, painted an unusual blue, is the company's first fully electric vehicle — a generational shift Ferrari says it must make. For the people who have spent decades loving the brand, it felt like a betrayal.
Fabio Barone, president of Passione Rossa, an Italian Ferrari owners' club, was unsparing. He bought his first Ferrari at 27 and has set multiple speed records; he is not a casual observer. Across the fanbase, the reaction was swift and harsh — commenters compared the Luce to a Nissan, to the Fiat Multipla, to a vacuum cleaner. Italy's deputy prime minister wondered what Enzo Ferrari would have thought. Former CEO Luca Cordero di Montezemolo suggested the Luce should be stripped of its prancing horse logo entirely. Barone agreed. His deepest complaint was not the electric motor itself, but what it took away. Ferrari's V12 engines produce a roar owners describe in almost spiritual terms — like Verdi, like standing before a Michelangelo. Ferrari tried to compensate by installing sensors that amplify axle sound like an electric guitar. Whether that would convince anyone remained an open question.
The financial markets offered an immediate verdict: shares fell 8.4 percent in Milan on Tuesday. By Thursday, they had recovered 3.5 percent, after CEO Benedetto Vigna dismissed the critics at a launch event in Modena and reported genuine buyer interest. He framed the Luce as an act of courage — the company defining what the future should look like. The design had been led by Jony Ive, Apple's former chief designer, and Marc Newson, a signal that this car was not conceived for petrolheads.
Analysts were more measured than the internet. UBS predicted stable underlying loyalty despite muted enthusiasm, while Berenberg noted that sentiment had shifted once people experienced the car in person — and that the backlash might not matter for the investment case at all. Ferrari plans to produce fewer than 1,000 Luces, meaning it needs only a small number of open-minded wealthy buyers to make the numbers work. Club member Alex Tedino, who grew up mesmerized by Ferraris and still remembers the smell of leather from his first drive as a teenager, said the Luce did nothing for him. He supports electric cars, but only if Ferrari maintains its classic aesthetic — otherwise, he suggested, the company should create an entirely different brand. The question now is whether wealthy newcomers will prove a stronger foundation than the weight of tradition.
When Ferrari unveiled the Luce this week, the Italian carmaker did something it had never done before: it built a car in silence. The five-seater, painted in an unusual blue, represents the company's first fully electric vehicle—a generational shift the automaker says it must make. But for the people who have spent decades loving Ferraris, the Luce felt like a betrayal.
Fabio Barone, president of Passione Rossa, an Italy-based Ferrari owners' club, put it plainly: the design shook the foundations of the brand. Barone bought his first Ferrari at 27 and has since set multiple speed records. He is not a casual observer. Across the devoted fanbase, the reaction was swift and harsh. Internet commenters compared the Luce to a Nissan, to the Fiat Multipla—a 1990s people carrier that won the title of world's ugliest car—to a vacuum cleaner, to a rubber clog. Matteo Salvini, Italy's deputy prime minister and transport minister, wondered what Enzo Ferrari would have thought. Luca Cordero di Montezemolo, the company's former CEO, went further: he suggested the Luce should be stripped of its prancing horse logo entirely.
Barone agreed. His main complaint was not the electric motor itself, but what it took away. "How can you have a Ferrari without any vroom?" he asked. Ferrari's traditional V12 petrol engines produce a roar that owners describe in almost spiritual terms—comparable to listening to Verdi or Puccini, they say. The cars themselves are not mere machines but works of art, akin to standing before a Michelangelo. An electric motor, by contrast, is whisper-quiet. Ferrari tried to solve this by installing sensors beside the axles that pick up sound and amplify it, like an electric guitar. Whether that would convince anyone remained an open question.
The financial markets had an immediate answer. Ferrari stock plunged 8.4 percent in Milan trading on Tuesday, with US-listed shares falling 5.3 percent. But by Thursday, the stock had recovered 3.5 percent. The rebound came after CEO Benedetto Vigna spoke at a launch event in Modena and dismissed the critics. He said the company was receiving genuine interest from potential buyers. "This morning, three people wrote to me saying 'I'm buying it because I like it,'" Vigna told reporters. He framed the Luce as an act of courage—the company defining what the car of the future should be.
Vigna had made clear that Ferrari was hunting for buyers beyond its traditional fanbase. John Elkann, the American-Italian heir to the Agnelli industrial fortune, had brought in Jony Ive, the former Apple design chief, and Marc Newson to lead the project. The message was unmistakable: this car was not for petrolheads. Investment bank analysts who attended the Rome launch were more measured than the internet mob. Zuzanna Pusz of UBS predicted "stable underlying loyalty despite muted enthusiasm for the model." Michael Filatov of Berenberg noted that customer sentiment had shifted once people saw the car in person and experienced its interior appointments. More importantly, he said, the backlash "may not matter for the investment case."
Ferrari plans to produce fewer than 1,000 Luces. That means the company needs only a small number of open-minded wealthy buyers to make the numbers work. Barone's club has 70 members across Italy who gather regularly with their cars, often organizing fundraising events. Barone himself owns an F8 Tributo, one of roughly 1,000 made, with a personalized license plate. When he's not driving it through the Italian countryside or around an autodrome, it sits locked in a garage south of Rome. For daily life, he drives a Fiat. Alex Tedino, another club member, had grown up mesmerized by Ferraris—he still remembers the smell of leather seats from his first drive as a teenager. For him, the Luce triggered the opposite emotion. "It did nothing for me," he said. He supports Ferrari making electric cars, but only if the company maintains the classic aesthetic. Otherwise, he suggested, Ferrari should create an entirely different brand. The question now is whether the company's bet on wealthy newcomers will prove stronger than the weight of tradition.
Citações Notáveis
The design was a total shock – it has shaken the very foundations of our legendary Ferrari.— Fabio Barone, president of Passione Rossa Ferrari owners' club
This morning, three people wrote to me saying 'I'm buying it because I like it.'— Benedetto Vigna, Ferrari CEO
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does a car's sound matter so much to these owners? It seems like an odd thing to anchor your identity to.
Because for them, a Ferrari was never just transportation. The engine note was part of the sensory experience—it was how you knew you were driving something rare. The silence of an electric motor strips that away.
But Ferrari added synthetic sound. Doesn't that solve the problem?
Not really. It's amplified sensor data, not the actual mechanical roar. Owners can tell the difference. It's like playing a recording of an orchestra instead of sitting in the concert hall.
So this is really about authenticity?
Yes, but also about what the brand promised. These people invested emotionally in a certain idea of Ferrari—the craftsmanship, the exclusivity, the visceral experience. The Luce looks like it could be any car. That feels like a broken promise.
Yet the CEO says people are already buying it.
They are, but probably not the people who grew up dreaming about Ferraris in dealership windows. They're new money, people who want a luxury electric car with a famous badge. Ferrari is betting that group is large enough to matter.
And is it?
With fewer than 1,000 cars planned, Ferrari only needs a few hundred wealthy buyers. The math works. Whether the brand survives the cultural cost is a different question.