RML Short Wheelbase prototype drive

Scaglietti’s delicious curves have been recreated in carbonfibre and the body bulges in all the right places. The stacked tail-lights just inches above the exhausts are unmistakable, as are the crisp wheel arches. Maybe the wire-mimicking 18in wheels are a bit unconvincing, but if the restomod scene has taught us anything, it’s that classically styled bodies and modern, low-profile tyres have difficult marriages.

Crucially, what the SWB avoids is appearing awkwardly large. The 550 base keeps its dimensions neat, and overall it succeeds as an object of desire even before the driving begins.

Inside, it’s soft leather, Alcantara and aluminium, all nicely done. It has cupholders, too, and lots of head room (the 250 GT SWB has neither), plus air conditioning. All this because the SWB is intended for proper touring.

This prototype still uses a Motec readout rather than analogue dials, and the slot in the transmission tunnel from which a touchscreen will eventually rise remains vacant.

However, the production-spec jewels towards which your gaze is inexorably drawn are the drilled aluminium pedals (pure 550M), open-gate gearlever and exquisite filigree steering wheel that wraps aluminium in leather. It’s this trio, along with the romantic pillbox view forward, that set the tone.

On the Hill Route, the SWB ticks some big boxes instantly. The 479bhp 5.5-litre V12 is more gruff and vocal than it ever was in the 550, and that’s welcome. Throttle response is alert but not sharp, so just right for such an application. The clutch is firm and the gearshift tight, because RML is still working on the tolerances, but general drivability is far slicker than you might expect. It’s barely harder to guide than the Mazda MX-5, and part of that is down to the surprising comfort of the driving position. Everything feels special but natural.

What you also can’t help marvelling at is the stiffness of the structure. RML retains the front subframe, central spine and corners of the 550’s steel floor but grafts on a carbon-composite lid that forms the monocoque. Think of it as a traditional tub, like in the McLaren 720S, only turned upside down.

From this hangs the suspension, controlled passive Öhlins dampers and steel springs. Our car bottoms out through vicious compressions, but progressive springs are in the works and ought to provide much improved support and finesse.

The SWB otherwise steers lightly and precisely, but not too precisely, which helps it retain a classic feel. I suppose the hydraulic 550 rack is in many ways closer to that of the 250 GT SWB in character than it is to, say, the frenetic set-up of today’s Ferrari 812 Superfast. You guide this car with fingertips. An ill-timed sneeze won’t careen you into the undergrowth.

The primary ride is particularly good; the SWB floats deftly when you’re simply going from here to there with minimal commitment. Rougher patches of road do fizzle up through the steering more than you might like, but then you wonder just how much isolation is possible while retaining the classic feel.

Best of all? You can really let the SWB rip. The pedals are well placed for heel-and-toe shifts and the chassis keeps a lovely homogeneous manner during hard cornering: the nose stays on line, the body stays reassuringly (but by no means totally) flat and the rear has the stability to take massive openings of the throttle mid-corner.