Czech police say the six-year game of cat-and-mouse with the country’s most infamous “Ferrari” has finally ended on a quiet Sunday morning near the village of Buk.
The car wasn’t a Ferrari F1 at all, of course, but a Dallara GP2 machine dressed to look like one. And not even in a livery that Ferrari ever ran. The driver, a 51-year-old man, had been reported multiple times since 2019 for hurtling along the D4 motorway in the single-seater, the kind of sight that makes motorists question their coffee intake. His luck appears to have run out.
“Thanks to information from drivers, we stopped a Formula driver this morning in the village of Buk who was speeding along the D4 motorway,” the Czech Republic Police posted on X. “Police officers identified the driver as a 51-year-old man and then took him to the district police station for questioning.”
The police added that the man refused to comment during questioning, and that the case would be sent to administrative proceedings, where he faces a fine of several thousand crowns and a driving ban. In other words: the road-going ‘career’ is over, even if the urban myth will keep running.
The outlawed F1 cosplay has been a curiosity in Czech motoring circles since the first sightings surfaced six years ago: a scarlet, low-slung single-seater shrieking along a public motorway like a ghost from Monza somehow strayed into Monday traffic. It was part prank, part provocation, and wholly illegal. A GP2 car is a track toy, not a commuter.
A video that appeared after Sunday’s stop shows the car and driver — helmet on, race suit zipped — being towed as police sirens whine in the background. Officers approach, ask him to step out. He insists they’re on private property and tells them to move along. The standoff hangs in the air for a beat, then two. Eventually he climbs out, still wearing the lid, and gets into the police vehicle. Surreal right to the credits.
There’s a reason the law doesn’t smile on this stuff. Beyond the obvious danger — almost no ground clearance, limited steering lock, no mirrors suitable for traffic, and braking systems that assume warm slicks and a clean surface — a GP2 chassis dressed as a Ferrari invites attention nobody needs at 130 km/h on a public road. That it lasted this long without a serious incident is a minor miracle.
The disguise itself was a tell. Ferrari’s real race cars are laden with season-specific details, sponsor placements, and compliance gear that a homebrew paint job can’t fake. The car in question was never close to an actual Scuderia machine from any given year — a track-day special playing a very loud game of dress-up.
The police say the man’s silence in custody didn’t shed much light on the motive. Was it a protest? A thrill? A rolling performance piece? From a distance, it looked like all three. The mythology only grew with each new clip: roaring past traffic, popping up again months later, the sort of folklore that lives in comment sections and WhatsApp groups. “I saw the Ferrari again.” “No you didn’t.” And so on.
In the Czech Republic, as in the rest of Europe, there are ways to do this properly. Race cars do appear on public roads for promo shoots or parade laps — but on closed streets with permits, marshals and medical cover. The difference is the difference between a banked corner and a blind roundabout. One is theatre, the other is roulette.
What happens now? The administrative route suggests this won’t turn into a courtroom saga. A fine. A ban. Likely the end of the red costume’s public appearances. Whether the GP2 car itself is impounded for good will be one to watch, though don’t expect a press conference with the chassis on a dolly.
If there’s an odd coda here, it’s that the story speaks to the enduring pull of F1’s imagery in the real world. Even in 2025, with the championship busier and more global than ever, the sight of a “Ferrari” — any Ferrari — still makes people point, film, and forget what lane they’re in. That’s the magic and the risk.
The phantom’s legend will probably outlast the headlines. Somewhere there will always be a grainy clip of a scarlet single-seater ripping past a rest stop, sound bouncing off concrete, exit signs blurring. But after Sunday, it’s likely to stay a clip from the past. The authorities finally caught the ghost.
