You expect to see a bit of blood in a Quentin Tarantino flick. You can count on a scuffle at any European football match. And, if this is the latest installment of the Ferrari 328 saga, there must be a growing stack of service invoices knocking my retirement plans back a month at a time. In fact, after another month of ownership with no real service issues, I must report that the 328 is this: a car.

Blasphemy, you say. Well, yes, it still has all the curves and those iconic scoops and tail lights and that delicious snick-snick metal-gated gear change. And it sounds, smells and draws gazes like a proper Ferrari. If I drove it every day, however, the car would hardly object. For all the nights spent worrying about obscene Ferrari parts costs, ownership thus far has been far more relaxing than the pre-ownership jitters.

To be fair, mileage on the 328 has remained low. Blame it on an owner who prefers not to use it up on mundane things like picking up milk at the supermarket. With a boot that can barely accommodate a full gallon of the stuff, I didn't mind sitting out the neighborhood shopping cart bump-roll-and-scrape festival. There are also a couple items that will need attending to at the next service, namely brakes that have a slight squeal and a drop-a-week oil leak from around the pan. (A Ferrari that doesn't leak oil is out of oil, I was advised.)

Ferraris weren't made to pull trailers or tote plywood. They were made to be driven, with verve. And so, after picking the car up from its front bumper re-spray and having it detailed, I stowed the top and headed out on some of the better roads in San Diego County.

With the top off, the 328 still keeps the wind at bay, and that lovely engine growls and wails behind you. Stowing the targa top, while obviously more of a chore than with those single-button automatic hardtop convertibles (a la Mercedes SL), is still satisfyingly simple. It's easier with two, but a lone driver can handle it by walking around to the other side to release the second latch before lifting the top. It's an amazingly lightweight item and looks quite neat stowed behind its vinyl cover. The car looks better with the top stowed as well, leaving no straight lines to compete with its curvaceous door tops. In open form, the GTS makes its rarer GTB stablemate look awkward, and indeed the GTS commands a small premium for its charisma, though perhaps not its rigidity.

On startup, the 328 seems a bit perturbed, as though you've disturbed its beauty rest. With a new battery installed on delivery (no one seemed to know how old the old one was), the 3.2-litre V8 turns over quickly and stumbles to life, settling into a steady 1,000rpm idle. In southern California, it warms quickly, and soon forgets its moodiness and remembers why it exists. The redline is just under 8,000rpm, and combined with a flat torque curve you needn't shift often - though you might want to.

A 328 may have had supercar stats in 1987. In 2006, it is merely a quick car, pushing through 60mph in six seconds - acceptable, but made less satisfying by the sudden need of whatever car is stopped next to you at the signal to mash the throttle on green. Apparently anything graced with a cavallino rampante is presumed to be fearsomely fast. With a fresh detail job and recent California plates, the 328 looks newer than its 20 years and apparently begs for a race.

In town, the car plods along patiently in fifth gear, at 2,500 rpm, as you stare into the bumper of the white Ford Expedition blocking the horizon, and another white Ford Expedition in the lane beside it. The 328 takes it all in its stride. Outside of town, in a mini heat-wave and running hard on a long, open road with temperatures of 90 degrees or so, the car was clearly happier, making those expensive, wailing Ferrari sounds that really separate the car people from the Prius-and-granola types. The big cooling fans behind the radiator kicked in on cue, and the oil and coolant temperature gauges hardly budge. Not all Ferraris overheat. Driven hard, the 328 is a delight. Stuck in town, it serves without complaint.

Behind the wheel, your enjoyment may depend on the weather. The 328 is an old car, based on a design from the mid 1970s, and there's plenty to remind you of this. The air conditioning has something of a gerbil-blowing-on-an-ice-cube effectiveness that calls into question the whole point of having it. The pedals are splayed right in my LHD car, and are quite close together. I bought a pair of Puma Speedcats, and would say these shoes (and my Venetian loafers with their squared toebox) are my preferred footwear on the narrow aluminum pedals. The steering wheel is a bit of a reach, especially with the seat reclined sufficiently to keep your head below the top of the windscreen.

Back in the real world, the car is a handful when parking, due to the unassisted steering. But it's hard to resist any chance for a fair weather drive, even ones that are a complete waste of the car. There's something about pulling a Ferrari into the space in front of Blockbuster to return a couple of rented DVDs. Life among the minivans has its moments.

"Is that a Ferrari? That's a Ferrari!"

Indeed it is. And those DVDs were returned very much on time.