In a bold move, Maserati launched the refined Bora into a market replete with thuggish mid-engined heroes. Richard Heseltinesays it’s a non-conformist worth treasuring
Photography Tom Shaxson
You could call it a case of Damascene enlightenment. Well, you could if you were feeling pretentious, and had come over all florid and profound. In what self-help groups often refer to as a moment of clarity, the Maserati Bora has wormed its ways into your affections. Now you are in love, or infatuated at the very least. The defining moment occurs on discovering the final few millimetres of throttle travel. On roads surrounding the romantic milieu of a sewage treatment works in Hertfordshire, slotting it into third and accelerating hard on the first straight road for ages ushers in something that bit more… choral. The quad-cam V8 makes its presence felt for the first time.
And how. There is something uniquely compelling about this engine: the one that powered the Mexico, the Ghibli, the Indy, the Khamsin, and all manner of Quattroporte saloons, let’s not forget. This burbling unit has the easy-going flexibility of an American bent-eight overlaid with a deliciously blue-blooded growl when roused. The thing is, unlike other supercars of the period, you need to give the Bora a wake-up call. Initially, Maserati’s first mid-engined production model feels short on performance, but that throttle pedal is deceitful. You think it’s all the way down, only to discover a bit more travel. That is where the good stuff lies.
But that’s the thing about the Bora, the bit that is so easy to miss. It was launched amid the opening salvo of supercars, into a market that included natural rivals such as the Lamborghini Miura, the Ferrari 365 GT4 BB and the De Tomaso Pantera. It isn’t startlingly exuberant in terms of styling. It doesn’t have comedy doors or big wings. It doesn’t scream ‘look at me’ so much as discreetly request you turn your gaze in its general direction. Nor does it render you deaf over long distances, because it has, you know, actual sound deadening. Not only that, you don’t need to contort yourself to a neck-cricking angle to see out of it. Unusually for a car of this type, you won’t be pleading for an osteopath at journey’s end.
All of which makes it sound as though the Bora is a little soft. You would be forgiven for assuming this is the case, given that many retrospective reviews of the car opine as much. This is nonsense. It isn’t even a bit squishy around the edges. The Bora is arguably the best superc
