Ferrari has committed the cardinal sin of the automotive world: it made a car that does not sound like a angry angel being murdered. The Luce, the brand’s first electric vehicle, sold at auction for $40 million—a price tag that suggests someone paid forty million dollars to own a very expensive regret.
The backlash has been swift and merciless. Enthusiasts who once worshipped at the altar of naturally aspirated engines and gear-grinding transmissions have begun circling the drain of existential despair. How dare Ferrari innovate? How dare they acknowledge that the internal combustion engine is not, in fact, eternal? Some commentators have mourned the loss of “signature dramatic styling,” which is a polite way of saying the car does not look like it is constantly furious at a traffic jam.
This is apparently the end times. Civilization as we know it is collapsing because a luxury car manufacturer decided to build a car for 2026 instead of 1986. Next, they will probably use computers. They might even consider aerodynamics. The horror.
In reality, Ferrari selling an electric car for $40 million is not a warning sign of the apocalypse—it is a sign that the apocalypse has excellent taste in automobiles and a very healthy bank account. The outrage itself is the real product here: free marketing wrapped in the genuine anguish of people who believe that progress is a personal betrayal.
Ferrari understands something that the loudest voices do not: the future is electric, the wealthy will pay anything to be first, and there is no such thing as bad publicity when your car costs more than a house.