In a world gone absolutely mad with screens the size of television sets and hybrid powertrains that require a PhD in electrical engineering to understand, a small Italian company has done something so completely unexpected that it's left me momentarily speechless.

And if you know me at all, you'll realize just how significant that is.

Automobili Mignatta has created a car called the Rina, and it's quite possibly the most gloriously anachronistic thing on wheels since Morgan decided that wooden chassis frames were the way forward. It's as if someone traveled back in time to 1965, kidnapped Enzo Ferrari, showed him what supercars would become in 2025, and then asked him to design something as a counteroffensive.

A proper engine in the right place

Let's start with the fundamentals. The Rina has its engine in the front, where God and Colin Chapman intended it to be. And what an engine it is - a naturally aspirated 5.0-liter V8 that will undoubtedly produce a noise so magnificent it could make grown men weep. Mignatta hasn't released power figures yet, but that's beside the point. In an era where every manufacturer is obsessed with turbochargers, hybrid assistance, and electric motors, someone has had the sheer audacity to build a car with a large capacity, naturally aspirated engine. It's like opening a video rental store in 2025 - completely mad, yet strangely admirable.

But the pièce de résistance, the cherry on this gloriously old-fashioned cake, is the transmission. The Rina comes with a six-speed manual gearbox with a gated shifter. Not a paddle-shift dual-clutch that changes gear in nanoseconds while you sit there like a passenger in your own car. No, this is a proper manual that requires actual physical effort and coordination. When the Rina goes into production, it'll be just one of two cars on sale with a gated manual shifter, the other being the Pagani Utopia. It's like finding out someone's opened a new Blockbuster video - you thought they were extinct, but here's one thriving against all odds.

Lightweight and focused on the essentials

In another act of delightful rebellion against modern automotive trends, the Rina weighs just 2,205 pounds. That's about half the weight of most modern sports cars, which have become so laden with electronic gadgetry and safety equipment that they're practically apartment buildings on wheels. The Rina achieves this featherweight status partly by not having frivolous luxuries like a roof or a windshield. Who needs protection from the elements when you're having this much fun? Goggles and a good quality raincoat should suffice.

The Rina comes with 19-inch front and 20-inch rear wheels, which hide six-piston front and four-piston rear Brembo brake calipers. That's a serious braking setup for such a light car, suggesting that whatever power that V8 is producing, it's enough to necessitate some serious stopping power. It's like putting Formula 1 brakes on a shopping trolley - complete overkill, but in the best possible way.

The interior that time forgot

Step inside the cabin - if you can call an open-top barchetta's cockpit a cabin - and you'll find an environment so refreshingly analog it might as well come with a VHS instruction manual. There are no giant touchscreens here, no digital displays pretending to be analog, and certainly no haptic buttons that don't actually move when you press them. Instead, you get a proper Porsche-style tachometer front and center, with a redline at 6,200 rpm, and four smaller gauges surrounding it. It's like walking into a pub and finding they still serve beer in actual pint glasses rather than jam jars or Wellington boots.

The speedometer is positioned in the center of the dashboard between the seats, above a row of aluminum switches for the various vehicle functions. It's a layout that suggests the designers actually wanted you to be able to operate the car's features while driving, rather than having to pull over and spend ten minutes navigating through seventeen different submenus just to turn the heated seats down. The cabin is finished with dark brown leather accents and exposed carbon fiber, a combination about as Italian as gesticulating wildly while talking about your mother's pasta recipe. But the pièce de résistance, the detail that confirms this car was designed by actual human beings rather than a committee of marketing executives and safety inspectors, is the cigarette lighter and ashtray positioned next to the shifter. It's a feature that would send a modern car designer into anaphylactic shock.

The price of going against the grain

All of this glorious, old-school, analog goodness comes at a price, of course. The Rina starts at €290,000, which translates to about $322,000 at today's exchange rate. That's a substantial amount of money for what is, effectively, half a car. No roof, no windshield, no touchscreens, no hybrid assistance. But that's missing the point entirely. The Rina isn't about value for money any more than a bottle of 50-year-old Macallan is about efficient alcohol delivery.

This is a car for people who remember what driving used to be like before computers took over.

It's for those who appreciate the mechanical symphony of a naturally aspirated engine, the satisfying 'clack' of a gated shifter slotting into gear, and the unfiltered connection between driver and road that comes from having nothing between you and the elements but a pair of designer sunglasses and some very expensive cologne. There's no word yet on how many will be built or if any will make it to American shores, but if you want one, I suggest contacting Mignatta immediately. Cars like this are becoming as rare as honest politicians, and they'll likely sell out faster than tickets to a reunion tour of the Beatles (with the original lineup).

In a world obsessed with electrification, autonomy, and connectivity, the Automobili Mignatta Rina stands as a defiance to progress for progress's sake.

It's a reminder that sometimes, the old ways are the best ways, and that driving should be about more than just getting from A to B while checking your emails.

It should be an experience that engages all your senses, demands your full attention, and occasionally terrifies you just a little bit. And for that alone, we should be thankful that there are still companies mad enough to build cars like this. Long may they continue.