I Was Wrong About the Pirelli P Zero — Here's Why

Let’s get one thing straight right from the off — I’ve always been a Michelin man. Not in the flabby white mascot sense, that was the old me (although a week in Spain hasn’t helped), but because for years I’ve religiously strapped their rubber to whatever supercar I’ve been lucky enough to drive. Whether it’s been the ultra-reliable Pilot Sport 4S or the more aggressive Cup 2s for those bone-dry, hooligan days — the French have always had my back.

So, when it came time to prep the F8 Spider for our Mil Millas España tour, I found myself in a bit of a pickle. The weather forecast for Spain was mixed, and that turned out to be a huge understatement, as the actual experience was the meteorological equivalent of 'spin the bottle' – cold mornings, hot afternoons, dry roads, wet patches, and even snow. Actual snow. In Spain. On a driving tour. You couldn’t make it up.

Traditionally, a Spanish tour would be a job for the Cup 2s if I fancied a bit of dry grip nirvana, or the Pilot Sport 4S if I needed to hedge my bets. But this year, in a moment of madness – or marketing-induced bravery – I decided to try something different. Enter the Pirelli P Zero.

Now, full disclosure, Pirelli are a brand partner for Supercar Driver, but I’ll be honest, that did absolutely nothing to ease the nagging voice in the back of my head whispering, “Stick with what you know, Paul”.

The tyres went on a few days before we headed out, and the F8 immediately looked angrier. That stealthy tread pattern and slightly squared-off shoulder gave the car a sort of “I lift weights and don’t skip leg day” kind of vibe. Good start.

What I wasn’t expecting was just how quickly I’d become a fan.

On day one, we left the hotel car park with the thermometer reading a positively arctic and very windy 8°C. Not exactly ideal supercar weather. The kind of temperature where you wonder if you’ve accidentally signed up for the Icelandic Mil Millas. The P Zeros, though? Totally unbothered. No scrambling for grip. No twitchy moments. They just got on with it – quietly confident like the tyre equivalent of a bloke in a well-fitted suit who doesn’t need to say a word to make an impression.

That afternoon, in proper Spanish style, the temperature shot up to 24°C. We were halfway between Valencia and Benidorm. I came into a tight right-hander way too hot – I’d just finished telling my passenger, Kelsey, how great the tyres were, so of course, that’s when I completely misjudged my braking. Classic. I was heading straight for a ditch with the grace and poise of a runaway shopping trolley. But, rather than plough into olive groves and become a tragic “idiot drives Ferrari into tree” headline, the P Zeros clawed the F8 back in line like a loyal dog yanking its stupid owner away from oncoming traffic. Somehow, I stopped just in time. Absolutely no skill involved – pure tyre heroics.

A few days later, up in the Sierra Nevada, things got even weirder. We were near Mulhacén, the highest mountain on mainland Spain, and – because I’m trying out a new set of tyres – it started snowing. I’ll repeat that for effect. Snow. In Spain. In March. In a rear-wheel-drive Ferrari on summer tyres. Of course, the snow didn’t get chance to settle, but the temperature of the road surface plummeted rapidly.

I was expecting to spend the rest of the afternoon learning how to ice skate in 830 horsepower’s worth of regret. But again, the P Zeros just found grip. Not as much as you’d want on a ski slope, sure, but enough that I didn’t have to call a tow truck or fake a mechanical failure out of sheer embarrassment. That counts as a win in my book.

And let’s not forget the olive oil roads. If you’ve never driven through them, imagine someone’s taken the smoothest, most scenic stretch of road and lovingly basted it in chip fat. It’s like trying to drive on an Italian grandmother’s kitchen floor. Greasy doesn’t even begin to describe it. And yet, the P Zeros kept things composed. A few moments of squirm here and there, but they always felt predictable – and that’s what matters.

In the tyre world, stats are king – and I had read before the trip that the Michelins generally win out in dry braking by a whisker. On average, the Pilot Sport 4S stops about 30 centimetres shorter. Which is the kind of difference that only really matters when you’re playing Top Trumps or heading straight for a cliff. In the real world – on this tour, in these conditions – the Pirellis gave nothing away.

Handling-wise, I was told the P Zeros might be a touch slower round a lap. But unless you’re Lewis Hamilton late for a dentist appointment, you’d never notice. In fact, if anything, they felt more confidence inspiring at speed. Slightly softer at the edge, maybe – but in a good way. Like you can lean on them without worrying that they’ll suddenly turn around and bite you.

Across the board, the Pirelli P Zero has proved itself a brilliant all-rounder. Dry, wet, warm, cold, greasy, snowy – it took everything Spain had to throw at it and still delivered a top-tier driving experience. It made me feel like a better driver than I am, which frankly, is the highest praise I can give anything.

To say I was pleasantly surprised is an understatement. I was outright impressed. I’ll still keep the Michelins in the back pocket for those very specific track or perfect-summer days, but for European touring – proper mixed-weather, 1000-mile road trip stuff – the P Zeros are now firmly on my radar.

So if you’re heading across the continent, worried about changing surfaces, temperatures, or whether your right foot might occasionally get a bit too enthusiastic – stick a set of P Zeros on. They’ve got your back, even when — like me — you’re being a complete muppet.

Written by: Paul Pearce