What was it about the early to mid ’90s that made everyone blind to cars like the Ferrari 348 GT Competizione and Porsche 964 Carrera RS? Both were the product of extensive and uncompromising improvement in order to make them suited for motorsport. Both were lighter, sharper, more aggressive and more exciting. They were also rare and expensive, yet for years they remained unloved and overlooked, the victims of stigma and blinkered reviews.

Fast forward to 2010 and the times they are a-changin’, at least as far as the Porsche is concerned. Nowadays its combative character is back in vogue, and enthusiasts appreciate its significance in the grand scheme of things Zuffenhausen. That’s also reflected in the 964 RS’s steadily increasing value.

By contrast the 348 Competizione has remained something of an enigma. So few of them were built that only a handful of people can genuinely claim to know what they are like to drive, yet the wider petrolhead populace is content to tar it with the same brush as the largely unloved vanilla 348. Question is, what’s the GTC really like, and how does it compare with its ’90s opponent?

Unsurprisingly, this is the first time I’ve ever driven a 348 GTC, and to be honest I’m not too sure what to expect. I know it’s a special car purely thanks to its rarity (just 50 were built, of which only 8 were right-hand drive), and there’s no question that, on paper at least, Ferrari’s first homologation special after the magnificent 288 GTO promises a great deal. But, as we all know, the regular 348 on which it is based isn’t the best starting point, being relatively heavy, underpowered and dynamically unresolved. If ever there was a car to stretch the transformative powers of motorsport homologation, this is it.

Funnily enough, I’m actually rather smitten by the 348 GTC’s riot of slats, scoops and blingy split-rim wheels. True, it looks dated in the presence of the 964 RS’s timeless, brutal simplicity, but there’s no question the Competizione makes a standard 348 look rather apologetic and turns heads more readily than the stealthy Porsche.

Much like the F40, the 348 GTC uses a Kevlar/carbonfibre composite to save weight. You can see it in the chunky weave of the sills and seats, and feel it in the weight of the doors. The front and rear bumpers are made of the stuff too, while the wider, 18in polished alloys are also lighter than the standard car’s 17in items. It all adds up to a huge 190kg saving over the standard 348 GTB, which, when combined with the later 320bhp version of the standard car’s 3.4-litre V8 engine, results in a 348 with a power-to-weight ratio on a par with its successor, the F355.

The springs and dampers are firmer than the regular 348’s, and the gear-linkage uses a rod rather than cables, so the shift action should feel more connected and precise. Performance claims are hard to come by (even Ferrari’s own website leaves blanks), but it’s safe to say the Competizione would trump the standard 348’s 0-62mph time of 5.4sec, though it’s unlikely its top speed is different to the standard 348’s claimed 175mph.

When you swing open the extravagantly straked door, your eyes fall on the broad Kevlar sill and the bright red fireproof material that wraps the heavily bolstered seats. Once pinched between the padded side supports, your feet fall on funky and heavily offset drilled aluminium pedals, while the simple non-airbag steering wheel bears the inscription ‘348 GT Competizione’ followed by the build number of the car. Special stuff for people like us.

The interior itself is airy, thanks mainly to the low scuttle typical of mid-engined cars. The screen is steeply raked, while the wraparound dash amplifies the sense of space and width. It feels great to grab the chrome, cue-ball-sized gearknob and slot the spindly gearlever through the once iconic but now sadly defunct open gate with a satisfying schlick-schlick.

The engine starts on the key – no fancy starter buttons or manettinos here – and settles to a busy idle, exhaling brassily through the four stubby tailpipes. It’s not shouty like a 430 Scud, but there’s an edge to the note and a keenness to the way the revs yelp with each exploratory prod of the firm throttle pedal that’s unmistakably Italian and exotic.