An evolution of the 308, the 328 features a tubular steel chassis, independent suspension using unequal-length A-arms, coil springs, hydraulic shocks, and anti-roll bars. The gearbox was a five-speed manual, take it or leave it; the age of the robotised F1 transmission was but a glint in a Ferrari engineer’s eye. Lift the engine cover and you’ll find the gearbox’s life partner, an uprated, 3.2-litre version of the V8. Given the car’s 267bhp at 7000rpm, you may scoff at the thought of a Ferrari with no more power than a modern hot hatch – especially when the 328’s heir, the F8 Tributo, delivers more than 700bhp to its rear wheels. But remember, the 328 is a sports car born of the analogue age, before computer modelling, aluminium or carbon structures, carbon-ceramic brakes, ABS (other than the last of the production run), ESP, manettino switches and an army of sensors talking to one another millions of times a second. You’re on your own. That much is apparent as you go to pull away. The clutch is heavy, the steering as tough as any gym workout. On the move, the 328 GTS commands respect. It is pure, undiluted and absolutely devoid of a safety harness, so you drive it with respect – the slow in, fast out kind of respect that racing drivers of years gone by talk about. The noise is surprisingly muted until the rev counter’s needle rushes for the redline. The speed builds plenty fast enough and the gearbox is a delight – albeit once the oil gets up to temperature. Take liberties, as we did in the interests of research, and it will punish you, at which point the tyres will howl and let go with enough warning that you can concentrate on muscling that steering and getting things back on the straight and narrow.