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That’s because it was. Well, these two were, at least.
Lotus didn’t simply ship a pair of navy Evoras out to Italy for the carabinieri to slap on a few stickers and a set of blue lights. These cars are the result of a year-long collaboration between Rome and Norfolk, the livery and preparation done in-house at Hethel.
As well as the Spleen Freezer and the many rows of blue lights, Lotus engineers also fitted the Evora with the carabinieri’s EVA (Enhanced Vehicle Automation) unit – a combined satnav/comms/surveillance device that, for some reason, TopGear is prevented from fiddling with – and a whacking great PA system that, for some reason, TopGear is not prevented from fiddling with.
We’re somewhere outside the Vatican when Rocco hands me the microphone. It’s at this point I wish I.
knew the Italian for: “Get yer trousers on. You’re nicked!” Sadly I don’t, so I limit myself to reciting: “Stay calm. The situation is normal. Please carry on,” through the speakers in my finest Pathe accent.
This doesn’t seem to have the desired effect on the Roman public. Time to leave.
As impressive as the carabinieri drivers’ traffic-cleaving abilities, is their extraordinary cab-driver knowledge of Rome’s thousands of tiny back streets. Every cut-through, passage, rat-run… these guys know the lot, slipping down impossibly narrow alleys before popping up in front of another stunning ancient monument. Or a scooter.
As we sneak out of a scrawny side street, a gangling teen on a Vespa with a long, drooping cigarette flopping between his lips, jumps a red light, wobbling unsteadily in front of us. Catching a glimpse of blue light, the rider glances over his left shoulder, his face freezing in a portrait of rictus terror as he spots the sleek, evil pair of police cars.
Rocco pulls alongside him and winds down the window. There follows a short lecture that, (a) I don’t understand a word of, (b) is delivered in a friendly voice with a cheery smile, and, (c) leaves me in no doubt that you don’t want to get on the wrong side of the carabinieri. The scooterist slinks off into the Rome afternoon like a reprimanded puppy. A practice run this may be, but the carabinieri is still keeping Rome in line.
Diving out of the city centre, we drop into the carabinieri’s HQ in northern Rome. It’s like the lair of a benevolent Bond villain.
Behind the main gates, vast queues of armoured vehicles line up beside carabinieri-liveried SUVs and motorbikes. Dozens of well-groomed horses, topped with well-groomed riders, trot in neat rows along well-groomed paths as uniformed men roll between well-groomed bushes, brandishing pistols in what I only hope are training exercises. As if today wasn’t Hollywood-surreal enough already.
The Evoras receive the same red-carpet reception from the carabinieri as they did from the Roman public. I wondered if there might be some lingering distrust of the Brit pair from a nation with such a distinguished heritage of building sports cars, but there’s only love for the Evoras and, particularly, their link to Lotus’s Formula One heritage.
Almost every one of these mustachioed, chain-smoking, boot-wearing carabinieri name-checks the Lotus drivers of the Sixties: Hill, Moss, Clark.
Back on the road, back into the cheery bedlam of Rome, and I endeavour to discover what Rocco thinks of his new company car. There are just two tiny problems with this plan: firstly, my appalling Italian, and two, Rocco’s nearly-as-bad English.
“Good to drive?” I ask slowly, waggling my hands back and forth in the internationally recognised ‘steering a car vigorously’ pose with a questioning look on my face.
“Si!” replies Rocco, cheerily. I’m not sure whether he’s agreeing that the Evora does indeed handle well, or simply confirming it has a steering wheel. “And… it’s pretty fast, eh?” Rocco shrugs politely. Undeterred, I persist. “Fast. Erm, veloce? Accelerare?” Rocco nods in comprehension. He plants a sturdy leather boot upon the accelerator and the Evora lunges off through the traffic with.
a squawk of tyres and whine of supercharger.
Ah. He thought I was asking him to go faster. A TopGear Top Tip: never bellow ‘veloce’ at a carabinieri driver in a Lotus Evora S. Actually, you know what? If you do ever find yourself next to a carabinieri driver in a Lotus Evora S – and you’re not about to be chucked in a cell or being transported in several pieces in the Organ Cooler – bellow ‘veloce’, sit back and enjoy the ride. If there’s a better city commuter than a carabinieri Evora S, I’m yet to find it.
This is a British car with heart. And liver. And kidneys…
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