This past weekend, I stopped by the Miami Design District to see “Exotics en Plein Air,” the capstone event of a four-day supercar bash thrown by Outside the new Prada store on NE 41st Street, about a dozen Ferraris from across the decades sat lined up beneath the tree canopy, shaded from the afternoon sun.

Photography: Christian Cipriani

My wife floated in the background enjoying the cars in her own way, which is to say mainly through my excitement. I’m so happy around supercars, especially Ferraris. I feel physically invigorated. Younger. Impassioned. In most settings I’m socially reserved, but I’ll strike up a conversation with nearly anyone at a car event. I chatted with Rob Lay, the founder of, then spoke at length with John, the owner of a 458 Italia who was in town from Dallas for the event.

John said he shied away from events for years because he thought people might be “snobbish.” When he finally went, he was surprised to find an awesome community of like-minded people and no pretense. I love supercar meetups for many reasons, but a big one is how they level the playing field and connect diverse people through a shared passion. It’s like a 12-step meeting for car addicts. John was my dad’s age, but we yammered on together like kids in a candy store.

A beam of light in the darkness

I’ve always loved Ferraris, but I didn’t attend car events in Miami until 2017, despite having lived here for the last 13 years. The cars I saw on the road each day and an occasional visit to The Collection with my dad was enough. But in December 2016, my wife and I went to the hospital two days before our son, Jude, was due and came home empty-handed. He didn’t make it. It was the most devastating moment of my entire life, and 2017 was a long, painful year of mourning and recovery.

Late last year, I saw an ad for Supercar Saturdays at Lamborghini Broward and decided I needed to get out and do something for myself. That morning spent running around in the sun taking pictures of beautiful cars reignited something in me—passion, joy, life. I returned home genuinely happy for the first time in months. Since then, I’ve made supercar events a regular part of my calendar and writing about Ferrari is just another outlet for this passion. No money. No agenda. Just me and a keyboard, straight from the heart.

Sharing joy with my loved ones

Christian Cipriani

At the Design District event, I walked around holding Arrow, our six-month-old rainbow baby, showing her all the pretty colors—Azzurro Dino, Bianco Italia, Rosso Mugello and of course Rosso Corsa. We admired the creative striping on special editions like the F12tdf and 458 Speciale, ran our fingers across details that you can only appreciate in person, and privately judged one owner’s aftermarket modifications. I hope I can share my passion with her the same way I would have shared it with Jude.

Today, an old friend messaged me on Facebook and asked when I was buying my Ferrari. I laughed. “When I have the money, I guess,” I replied. But I’m not in a hurry. Every time I have my heart set on something, it seems to lose its luster the second it’s mine. Perhaps Oscar Wilde was right: “There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.” Arrow is pretty much the only thing I’ve wished for that just keeps getting better.

For now, I’m content to wait, to dream, to anticipate the day I see a prancing horse on my steering wheel, because there’s so much fun to be had between now and then.

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