Though the 288 GTO spawned Ferrari’s line of flagship ‘halo’ supercars and kindled a fire that’s burning brighter now than ever before, context is vital when explaining how this twin-turbocharged titan came to be. You see, the early 1980s was a terribly exciting time. Hair was big but ideas were bigger. For the first time digital vied for supremacy over analogue. The sci-fi future was fast becoming the present. Computers. Synths. MTV. And naturally, that crackling, neon-bathed energy spilled into the world of motorsport.

Newfangled lightweight materials such as Kevlar and carbon-fibre were becoming more prevalent and the black magic of turbocharging had pushed the performance envelope to the very limit. Perhaps nowhere was this more evident than in rallying. Group IV was out and the comparatively unhinged Group B was in. A framework of rules governed by little other than a minimum production requirement resulted in ‘The Killer Bees’, an arsenal of the wildest competition cars ever conceived. Think Audi Quattro S1 E2s, Peugeot 205 T16s and Lancia Delta S4 Corsas. Four-wheel drive, lightweight tubular construction, dizzying (blown) power and drivers brave – or crazy – enough to point them down a special stage.

As these dominoes began to fall, so Enzo Ferrari sought a piece of the action. With the FIA’s mooted Group B road-racing series now firmly on the horizon, he greenlit a new supercar with which to compete. The loose rulebook afforded a chance for Ferrari to flex its technical muscles. And it’s not like the factory would be overly troubled by the minimum production requirement for 200 cars, built in a 12-month period. After all, this might be the last chance for Il Commendatore to see a sports-racing Ferrari triumph on the world stage, echoing the success of its illustrious forebears.

Given the circumstances of the project’s conception and with excitement, positivity and ambition rife in Maranello, it must have felt like divine intervention when Ferrari announced the name of its new car: ‘GTO’. Denoting Gran Turismo Omologato (that’s homologation in the Queen’s), the name was, of course, originally used by Ferrari for its hallowed 250 GTO of 1962 and 1964. That’s a car which, for reasons we needn’t recount, is among the most revered – read valuable – on the face of the earth.

You’ll notice we omitted the number 288 from the car’s name in that instance. There’s a simple reason for that. Contrary to common belief, Ferrari never publicly christened the car the 288 GTO. The number, denoting the 2.8-litre eight-cylinder engine, was Ferrari’s internal factory designation, which came into the collective consciousness after the press and enthusiasts began informally using it to differentiate the car from its 1960s predecessor. The number 288 can be found in two instances on the car itself and that’s on the numbered chassis plate atop the steering column and the tyre information sticker on the windscreen.

So what of the car itself? Three very different cars informed the development of the 288 GTO: the Lancia LC2 Group C prototype, the Ferrari 126C Formula 1 single-seater and the production Ferrari 308 GTB sports car.

There’s a reason Ferrari chose its 308 GTB as the conceptual starting point for its new road racer. Simply put, it was a means to expedite the homologation of the new GTO. Rather than type-approve an all-new car, which would have required considerably more time, money and red tape, Ferrari instead applied for an extension/modification of the homologation it had already been granted for the 308 GTB. The production code for the 308 GTB, issued in 1975, was Tipo ‘F 106 AB’. The GTO’s? Tipo ‘F 106 AB/G’.

In reality, the 288 GTO was an entirely different car to its comparatively pedestrian naturally-aspirated cousin and shared little with it beyond a silhouette. Production was overseen by the Ferrari’s general manager Giovanni Sguazzini, with significant development input from Ingegnere Nicola Materazzi and the Scuderia’s Formula 1 designer Harvey Postlethwaite. The latter was responsible for influencing the use of composite Kevlar and carbon-fibre for the car’s body (only the doors were steel) and engine compartment. That helped keep the weight of the 288 GTO significantly down – it tipped the scales at just over 1,200 kilograms.

The chassis was a traditional tubular steel arrangement, reinforced with newfangled composite materials. The rear bulkhead, for example, was aluminium honeycomb covered with Kevlar. The 288 GTO’s wheelbase is 110mm longer than that of the 308 GTB thanks to the all-new engine, though thanks to the shorter overhangs, the overall car is actually five millimetres shorter. The track was also widened to accommodate the bespoke 16-inch Speedline centre-lock wheels shod with Goodyear NCT tyres.

The 2,855cc two-valve-per-cylinder Tipo F114B V8 engine is a road-honed descendent of the twin-turbocharged Ferrari unit found in Lancia’s mighty LC2 Group C prototype. Weber Marelli fuel injection and engine management were both carried over. One of the biggest differences between the 288 GTO and the 308 GTB is that the engine is mounted longitudinally rather than transversely – a decision made for weight distribution, service access and packaging, given the addition of the two Japanese IHI turbochargers and corresponding intercoolers. The engine is mounted as far forward in the 288 GTO as possible, explaining the bulkhead which protrudes between the seats.

Cooling was key: the discreet air inlets beneath the doors and disappearing into the C-pillars worked to support the main waistline ducts carried over from the 308 GTB in keeping the engine and the brakes cool. Performance was sublime, the headline figures reading as follows: 400bhp at 7,000rpm, 0–60mph in 4.8sec and a top speed of 189mph. “And the price?!” we hear you cry. The 288 GTO was expensive. Really expensive, even by Ferrari’s lofty standards. Here in the United Kingdom the retail price was £73,000. For context, you could buy a Porsche 930 Turbo for half of that. And a scissor-doored all-bells-and-whistles Lamborghini Countach was ‘only’ £55,000.  

We’ll go out on a limb here and say the 288 GTO is the best looking Ferrari built outside the 1960s. Seriously, tell us otherwise. The styling was the work of Leonardo Fioravanti of Pininfarina. And while a fleeting glimpse in the corner of an eye might fool you into thinking this is a 308 GTB, look properly and you’ll realise that comparatively ornate design was elevated to an entirely new level – primmed and pruned, swollen and elongated to make it look like a proper purposeful and modern road racer. The nods to its illustrious forebear such as the slatted intakes aft the rear wheels are nothing short of perfect. As are the mirrors, which are stalked, staggered and look like they could belong to a fire engine but somehow work brilliantly here. Our favourite aspect? The gearbox hanging low beneath the rear valance. The positioning is not a happy aesthetic coincidence but rather strategic – the gearbox is attached to the rear of the engine for ease of access at the racetrack.

We wouldn’t go so far as to say the 288 GTO is like a Rolls-Royce compared to the F40 that followed, but the difference in refinement and comfort really is night and day. The car’s bespoke cabin is a wonderful place to sit. The steering wheel is a triumph: a perfectly sized and beautifully trimmed Momo that’s neither too thick nor too thin. It’s tilted forwards slightly, offering a clear view of those wonderfully legible dials, with their neon orange typeface and needles. The dash itself is finished in a glare-reducing velour fabric not dissimilar to the ‘mouse hair’ used in many of Ferrari’s earlier models.  

The binnacle dead ahead is complemented by a central cluster clearly displaying more of the car’s vitals. While the bank of toggles and sliding switches beneath the gear lever looks at first glance very 308-esque, the configuration is in fact entirely different. There’s no exposed carbon-Kevlar, no cable door pulls and no green bathroom sealant to be seen. No, the GTO’s cabin is a model in luxury. Because despite the searing performance, Ferrari had not yet subscribed to the zero-compromise approach to building its cars. The GTO had to be useable. And useable it most certainly is, many times more so than the line of flagship ‘halo’ Ferraris that followed. Cons? The pedals are comically offset, the Kevlar-framed seats are narrow and the air-conditioning struggles to compete with the heat emanating from the pronounced bulkhead behind you.

The consensus here at Girardo & Co. is that the 288 GTO is nothing short of a masterpiece. Ferrari’s customers at the time were clearly of the same opinion (and crucially not deterred by the eye-watering price tag). If the Prancing Horse’s model range had become bloated and somewhat underwhelming through the 1970s and early 1980s, the 288 GTO was the shot in the arm the history-steeped company desperately needed.

Ironically, by the time production was well underway in 1985, the writing was already on the wall for Group B, which had been drawing all the wrong headlines following a series of fatal rally accidents that exposed the category’s dangerous lack of regulation. Despite this, Ferrari sold 272 GTOs in 1984 and 1985 – far beyond the 200 it originally required for homologation purposes. This was a surefire sign that there was commercial viability to an even more exclusive (and expensive) flagship Ferrari ‘supercar’. A blueprint was drawn, a bloodline spawned and, as such, we would position the GTO as one of the most important cars in the marque’s storied history.

It would be remiss of us not to mention the stillborn 288 GTO Evoluzione – the car with which Ferrari intended to actually compete in the Group B road-racing formula. Twenty of these 650bhp Frankenstein racers were planned for homologation purposes, though only six were built by the time Group B was canned (it was never like the proposed Group B road-racing series had ever showed any signs of truly taking off). Visually it’s a whacky and somewhat awkward hybrid of the 288 GTO and the F40 which followed. Michelotto was charged with the competition transformation and the resulting car was as fast as it looked. A crash diet saw the weight drop to circa-920 kilograms. That combined with an engine tuned to 650bhp resulted in a reported 230mph top speed. In reality, the 288 GTO Evoluzione served more as a development link to the legendary F40.

In the past year alone, we’ve encountered no fewer than six 288 GTOs. And while at first glance they all looked the same, we’ve learned that there are many intricacies to Ferrari’s first ‘halo’ supercar, pertaining mainly to how they were originally specified. While the number of options Ferrari offered for the 288 GTO was minimal, how an owner specified their car did change its character somewhat.

The options were as follows: all-black full-leather ‘Daytona’-style seats, air-conditioning, a Blaupunkt radio and electric windows. It is true that most GTOs fitted with an optional extra were often specified with all of them. Though to reference that as a set specification is false: there are many exceptions to the rule, such as chassis number 55687, which has the full-black leather interior and air-conditioning, but wind-up windows and no radio. It's also a common misconception that the red fabric seat inserts fitted to some GTOs appear to be different colours because they’ve faded over time. On the contrary, the inserts comprise fabric in three different shades of red.

So what came with your Ferrari 288 GTO when it was delivered? Open the bonnet and, if you’d opted to pay extra for it, you’d have been immediately presented with the fitted Schedoni luggage, nestled snugly in the space above the spare wheel. Unlike the F40’s fitted luggage, which comprised three bags and even a coat hanger, the GTO’s was just a singular piece. Beneath the spare wheel was the tool roll and the leather bag containing the jack set, the wheel socket, mallet, warning triangle, and spare alternator and air-conditioning compressor belts. Additionally, there was the circular plastic tub containing spare fuses and bulbs and the auxiliary inspection lamp.

While seeing any of the aforementioned pieces after all these years is rare, the latter is especially elusive today. Contrary to common belief, neither GTOs nor F40s were delivered with car covers. Ferrari supplied the GTO’s user manuals, sales and service organisation booklet, and warranty card in three types of documents pouches. One was a solid-burgundy Schedoni leather pouch akin to those supplied with the ‘standard’ production 328s and Mondials. One was a tan Schedoni leather pouch, which appears to have been given to those owners who collected their cars directly from the factory. The more common other is the patterned ‘Gucci’-style pouch.

Be it beauty, legacy, rarity or now frankly dizzying value, the GTO feels incredibly special to sit in. And that’s before you slot the simple metal key into the ignition barrel to the right of the steering column, twist it 180 degrees to wake the car’s nervous system and press the black rubber starter button. The twin-turbocharged V8 fires lazily, its hollow idle thrumming away with a metallic twang. It’s not overly loud, nor especially stirring. That’s turbocharging for you. But there is definitely a quiet underlying feeling that this car has a lot to give. The GTO’s reputation precedes it… it just so happens that, to drive, it lives all the way up to that reputation. 

At day-to-day speeds, the GTO is not a difficult car to drive. Its clutch is firm yet intuitive, once warm its gearbox is plenty positive enough, its steering is predictable if not sharp and, thanks to its high profile tyres, the ride is miraculously supple. If you were to task us with driving from London to the South of France, we can think of few more accomplished ‘classic’ supercars for the job. Climb in, point it towards the Alps and don’t stop driving.

For a supercar in 1985, its versatility is truly extraordinary – here is a red-blooded Ferrari with performance that requires absolute concentration yet is luxurious and refined and comfortable. To this day there are genuinely few cars that, under full throttle with the turbos spooled, offer the same sense of unrelenting urgency. If the GTO ever lulls you into a false sense of security with its ease and approachability, a firm and sustained stab of the loud pedal will wake you with the same urgency as a cattle prod to the backside. 

“Of all the limited-production modern-era supercars to have skyrocketed in desirability of late, it’s the Ferrari 288 GTO I am least surprised by. Yes, its particular climb trajectory has been unusually sharp, undoubtedly catalysed by a degree of bandwagon hype. But I do think it’s a car that’s been undervalued for a very long time. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to appreciate why the 288 GTO ticks all the boxes for today’s collectors – younger or older.

It’s five times rarer than an F40, it’s drop-dead beautiful and its versatility and performance remain astonishing to this day. But beyond those criteria, it’s the fact this is the first in Ferrari’s line of flagship ‘halo’ supercars that I think resonates the most. After all, collectors have always loved the first and the last. It redefined Ferrari as the performance car manufacturer.

Would the F40, F50, Enzo, LaFerrari and F80 have followed without the 288 GTO? Would Ferrari as a company look remotely like it does today without the 288 GTO? I’m not so sure. We’ve rehomed six 288 GTOs in the last 12 months and each has transacted for considerably more than the one before. We now live in a world where a Ferrari built in the 1980s and which never actually raced is more valuable than all but the rarest and, for now at least, most desirable 1960s Prancing Horses. Think ‘Tour de Frances’ and steel ‘Short Wheelbases’. Is the rise sustainable? I don’t think so, but it’s telling of a market that’s finally and properly woken up.” 

Photos: Tom Shaxson, Robert Cooper, Charlie Brenninkmeijer

Reference Points is a series of extensively researched features here on girardo.com in which we will be exploring the most significant historic road, competition and rally cars in detail, showing what distinguishes them, from both a visual and mechanical point of view, and why they’re so desirable in the context of today’s collector car market. You can find them all by clicking here.