On the road with Ulf Poschardt

On the way to Berlin, sitting in the ICE, the smell of reheated coffee in the restaurant car, I can’t help wondering whether it’s uncool – or already cool again – to take the train to meet Ulf Poschardt, a man who can write about freedom and speed so convincingly that afterward you only ever want to drive sports cars.

So yes, a bit absurd: me arriving by train, him in a black Ferrari – “430 Scud,” as he’d said on the phone. “Scud” stands for Scuderia and, with the 430, it meant what you might call the ultimate driving machine. At the time, no production car from Maranello came closer to racing. Michael Schumacher himself helped develop it. We want to talk about sports cars, passion, the beauty of movement – and about why cars have become a moral issue for so many.

Outside, wind turbines flash by. Inside, phones ring, the sound of a kid playing on an iPad. Poschardt would probably see it as the perfect metaphor: progress, noise, speed, restlessness – and amid it all, the longing for something real.

Mr. Poschardt, why do we need sports cars?

The beauty of sports cars is that no one needs them. They serve no functional purpose – they’re culturally and existentially interesting. Humans have always wanted to go higher, faster, farther. It’s deeply rooted in our civilization. Even in ancient times, at the Olympic Games, it was about the essence of being human – the body without technical aids. When technology came along, the dream of pushing limits began. That’s pure humanism. Just look at da Vinci’s sketches of flying machines – it’s the same impulse that lives on in a racing car. Once the automobile was invented, it was only logical that people immediately started to race each other. The sports car is the civilized expression of a primal drive.

The sports car as the ultimate declaration of independence – the purest form of automotive freedom?

Partly. If you define freedom as freedom of movement and then maximize that movement, you could say freedom rises in proportion to a sports car’s dynamics. Only it’s not that simple. When I drive my 430 Scuderia into the city, I have no desire to break traffic laws. That obviously limits my freedom – and that’s fine. The feeling of freedom is still there. I come from a modest background; a Porsche or Ferrari was once utterly out of reach. Today just seeing or hearing one makes my pulse race. True freedom lies in the possibility of doing something – not necessarily in the doing itself. It’s the potential that counts, the idea that this car could do 320. That’s enough. These cars are spaces of possibility made of steel, carbon and longing.

That sounds like a farewell to rational purpose.

Totally. I deliberately distance myself from pure reason. Of course, every car has a function. But choosing a car like that is a choice for the unreasonable – and that’s exactly where my kind of reason lies. My happiest memories are tied to those supposedly unreasonable decisions. On paper it makes no sense to have four Ferraris in one garage. For me, that’s existential truth – and therefore perfectly reasonable.

What role does design play?

A central one. A good sports car is hyper-Bauhaus at its best: form follows function – but with radical aestheticism. Ferrari has always led the way. Enzo Ferrari worked with all the great designers: Scaglietti, Pininfarina, Bertone. He used to say, “You’re buying my engine; everything else is included free of charge.” Of course, that wasn’t true – the design was always essential. A Ferrari is thought through down to the tiniest detail, including the interior. The more time I spend with one, the more I realize: its beauty arises from function. Aerodynamics, center of gravity, speed – everything has a purpose. You want to be the fastest. But the result is also art. Nowhere else do functionality and aesthetics come together so perfectly as in a sports car.

How important is the myth – the story behind a brand like Ferrari?

Extremely important. I love that legacy. Ferrari, Porsche, Lamborghini – these are cultural narratives, not products. Lamborghini was originally the angry counter-move of a disappointed Ferrari customer – mythic in itself. Such stories shape our emotional bond with brands. I respect newcomers like Koenigsegg, but they come from a different universe. They lack history, have no patina. I grew up with the great heritage marques; they shaped me. Lotus fascinates me, Bugatti of course too – what a story there! But I find Mate Rimac very interesting as well.

Ever been to Molsheim, to Bugatti?

To be honest – that’s one of the great tragedies of my life. I’d like to thank all the sports- and hypercar makers who keep inviting me to visit. Every time I turn them down, I don’t just feel bad – I’m genuinely gutted. My professional life simply doesn’t allow such escapades. But maybe that’s a truth in itself: if you haven’t inherited anything, you have to work three times as hard to someday drive machines like these yourself. So no – not yet. But I will someday. And I look forward to it.

What does a car need to truly be a sports car?

Lightness. Colin Chapman was right: nothing kills speed like weight. A real sports car is light, direct, honest. You have to be able to feel the road – the grip, the slip, the limits. Too much electronics and that’s gone. I want to communicate with the machine, not an algorithm. That’s what makes it ( … )

→ Read the full interview in the new ramp #69 "More Than Machines".