“The best part of being a valet is getting to drive some of the coolest cars ever to touch the pavement….It was my dream to have one of these cars of my own, because (I thought) they sent such a strong signal to others that you made it. You're smart. You're rich…Look at me.
The irony is that I rarely ever looked at them, the drivers. When you see someone driving a nice car, you rarely think, " Wow, the guy driving that car is cool." Instead, you think, "Wow, if I had that car people would think I'm cool." Subconscious or not, this is how people think.”
The Psychology of Money - Morgan Housel
The engine roared behind me - the sound of pure adrenaline - as the Ferrari F430 Spider I was piloting roared through the winding, hedge-lined roads of Surrey. It belonged to a hedge fund mate who had been far more successful than me. Even though I had been out of finance for a year and was stumbling through the world of entrepreneurship - a car like this seemed further away than ever - in the words of Jeremy Clarkson - this was “EPIC”!
As I reveled in the sheer power of the Ferrari beneath me, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was chasing something just out of reach—something that would signal to the world I had made it. In hindsight, I realise that life’s most meaningful achievements are often invisible—quiet moments of love and connection that no one else sees. I had spent years chasing something external, but the real joy in my life was much closer than I thought. It took me 11 years and a complete annihilation of my ego to realise my dream…sort of.
For as long as I can remember, I have wanted a Ferrari. I can still clearly see myself sitting in my childhood friend, Wesley Tucker’s bedroom, reading the inaugural issue of “The Encyclopedia of Supercars” which featured a Ferrari Testarossa on its cover and a pull-out center page poster. Wesley was always torn between the Jaguar E-type and the Lamborghini Countach but I only had eyes for the red of Ferrari.
For all the glitz and glamour of Don Johnson and Miami Vice, it was Crocket’s white Testarossa I loved most in the show - even if it wasn't my cherished red. Imagine my excitement when a friend of my dad, Gino, dropped by our house in his brand new red Testarossa and parked it on our driveway. Gino’s family owned a series of Italian and Pizza restaurants in the town that I grew up in and to 10 year old me, the red Testarossa was the epitome of hard work and persistence.
As I grew older and entered the world of finance, my childhood dream of owning a Ferrari seemed more attainable than ever. Little did I know that London's financial district would provide a whole new perspective on luxury and excess.
A few years after starting at JP Morgan, at the height of the excesses of the 2000’s, I moved to London’s Chelsea neighbourhood. While it may not have been common knowledge at the time, central London was essentially a laundromat for illicit Russian cash and as the financial crisis hit, the safe haven of London’s prime property market saw yet further waves of European and Middle Eastern cash flow in.
As such, the car-porn on the streets of Chelsea, Kensington and Knightsbridge was like nowhere else in the world - except perhaps the Principality of Monaco on F1 race weekends!
Constantly surrounded by these displays of wealth and opulence, my desire for a Ferrari only intensified. It wasn't long before I would get within touching distance of my childhood dream.
When I went to work at my first hedge fund, my colleague and partner in the trenches, Brett (not his real name!), was a car nut. After our first bonus season together, he bought himself a red Ferrari 360 Modena - I was so jealous! He drove it to work every day and parked it on the street (!). At night he drove it to dinners and events that we had with brokers, often leaving it parked on random side streets, as the drinks flowed.
Such was the hedonistic lifestyle that Brett lived, that after one particularly raucous night - where I had left him holding court to a crowd of fawning brokers - he came into work the following morning looking a little worse for wear and a touch shell shocked.
After a little probing from me he sheepishly admitted he had lost his Ferrari - he couldn't remember where he had parked it in between moving venues and had no idea where to start. I was speechless - I LOVED that car - how could anyone misplace such a thing!!!! (He tracked it down the following week after many sleepless nights!)
Amidst the financial crisis, amazingly both Emily (my then girlfriend, now wife) and my careers in finance were on the up. When a friend needed to sell his Porsche 911 quickly, we decided it was time to trade in my trusty Fiat Punto and we pounced. I felt sure I was on a trajectory to ultimately owning my dream Ferrari!
The night we picked it up, we grabbed one of our best mates, who lived on the same street as us, and drove out to a country pub just outside London.
As I put our new beast through its paces, Emily dutifully watched from the cramped bucket seats in the back, having agreed to drive back, allowing me and my mate to have a few beers
On the drive back, Emily waited until the motorway slip road to put the car to the test. She floored the accelerator pedal and crunched the gear stick from 1st all the way to 6th, without using the clutch. The car lurched, the engine roared and my best mate and I were crying with laughter as we barely hit 30 mph!
A few years later, we were expectingour first child and the Porsche was traded in for a car with more seats. Shortly after that we moved to New York City and for a while didn't have a car at all. It became a sight rarer than hen's teeth, to see a supercar parked or driving on the potholed streets of Manhattan - so much so, that if it happened I would take a photo!
As the years rolled by, the Ferrari of my dreams slowly faded into the rearview mirror. In its place, a new landscape emerged: the adventure of fatherhood, the rollercoaster ride of entrepreneurship, and the whirlwind of daily life in New York City. With each passing day, as our family grew and our bonds deepened, I began to see the world through a different lens. The allure of material possessions and status symbols dimmed, overshadowed by the brilliant light of family connections, true friendships, and a profound sense of purpose. I realised that the satisfaction I once sought in a sports car was now found in the simple joys of bedtime stories, family dinners, and shared laughter.
On a Friday in early June this year, my wife and I were walking our 3 kids to elementary school. The sky was vibrant blue like so many typically clear and bright days in New York City. The temperature was perfect - ahead of the summer sweat that inevitably comes and the excitement in the air of the neighbourhood was apparent as the summer break was rapidly approaching. As is so often the case, I was holding hands with each of my two boys and just behind us, Emily was holding my daughters hand and we were all chatting.
As we walked past a bustling cafe-corner, I noticed a young woman - perhaps in her late twenties, walking towards us, obviously heading to work. She kind of took in my two boys, me holding their hands, then my wife behind us with my daughter. And a slight smile crept onto her face as she passed us. A few yards later the same thing happened again, this time, with a man, who was slightly older, but probably still not old enough to be married or have kids.
That’s when it struck me,I have my Ferrari. I have had my Ferrari for 11 years, since our first child was born. In chasing a Ferrari, I was chasing validation, a symbol that I had ‘made it.’ But the real reward has always been in front of me: my family. The love, connection, and pride I feel as a father—that’s the real Ferrari. It turns out, I’ve been driving it for years.
We’re fortunate to spend a chunk of time each summer out in Long Island. Good friends of ours have been very successful in the tech world and the guy is a car enthusiast, though you wouldn't know it. After selling his second business, he bought a Silver f430 Spider. As we became close to them and my boys started to be more and more aware, they kept harassing me to see if we could drive his Ferrari. I summoned up the courage to ask him and in his inimitably generous way, he said of course - particularly as he had a specialist Ferrari-made car seat for kids. Cue the fighting - who gets to go first, who went the fastest, can we go again, he went for longer!
Of course they had a fantastic time. So did I. When I asked the older of my two boys what he thought he said “I think we should get one, but to avoid fights, we should get two - what do you think dad?” ….. I smiled knowing that my sons, too, would come to realise one day that the things we chase so fiercely often pale in comparison to what we already have. The love and joy of family—that’s the real Ferrari.
Then I said “Ask your mother!”
