Over on The Nostalgia Forum, Lyntonh has dug into his seemingly inexhaustible archive of vintage Formula Vee photography to both showcase the great racing down under and to seek the assistance of the super-geniuses on the forum to help identify racers and cars. The whole Australian vintage vee thread is tremendous; with people swapping photos and stories of their time racing vees. Head on over and dive in. Better yet, get into the conversation and share your own tales of one of my favorite series.
I find that I tend to be of two minds on automotive art. I tend to be most drawn to either those pieces of work that come from one of two very different points of view. I love work that evokes the motion of a machine: Blurred splashes of color that are barely recognizable silhouettes of specific racing machines but with an emphasis on the frenetic movement of a high speed machine caught in a barely focused instant. But with almost equal reverence I can appreciate a meticulously detailed piece of work like these. It’s hard not to appreciate the careful study of the minutia of a racing machine. Kenji Shibata’s work is breathtakingly precise. It wasn’t until I saw this photo of his work in process that I realized I wasn’t seeing a beautifully lit studio photograph.
Kenji Shibata at work
In a lot of ways, it’s a lot like how we all appreciate the two essences of motorsport: The high paced courage and emotion on the track itself versus the slow, careful detail work of the long hours spent in the workshop in preparation for the track. I’m sure that’s why I am so drawn to these two apparently opposing aesthetics: because together they represent the full experience of motorsport.
Trophies, special model motoring Fords, all-expenses paid trips to N.Y., TV appearances, a chance at a fully-equipped 1967 Ford Mustang: not bad for turning laps on the slot track.
Do you think it’s just because Abarth started with small displacement engines that his name isn’t whispered with reverence by every hot rodder? You’d think that everyone tearing into a Ford flatty or Chrysler FirePower would offer a silent prayer to Abarth and the empire he built hot-rodding Fiat engines.
Why the apples? Under a doctor’s care as part of an intense weight loss program, Carlo apparently adopted a diet of apples and steak. Only apples and steak.
Magnificent shot that Bertocchi uploaded to a thread at Ferrari Chat. Prepare to lose the rest of your afternoon.
Update: Back on the FChat thread, Andrea points out that I’m inaccurate on this post’s title. The #14 car being unloaded is the Ferrari 500 of Louis Rosier’s “Ecurie Rosier”, not the factory team. Thanks, Andrea.
Rosier qualified 9th but retired on the 17th lap with engine troubles.
Courtesy of our friend Mandy Alvarez is this track map of Cuba’s answer to the Mille Miglia or Carrera Panamericana, the Carrera Pinar del Rio: A race to Havana from Pinar del Rio 115 miles away.
It’s a shame that the original patron and pilot who owned these armbands aren’t identified. Whoever they were, I’m a little surprised that the driver’s identification is in better shape than the sponsor’s. I would imagine that 1,910 miles of Mexican road dust would shred that piece of fabric during the race, but here it is looking damned good 60 years later. (The auction lists it as a “sponsor” armband, but I’ve also seen “patrocinador” used to mean “team owner”.)
Buy it now at $1,995. Sounds expensive to me too, but when are you going to see another one of these—let alone two of them?
Sure, Tag Heuer still markets their watches—particularly the Carrera and Monaco—with racing imagery, but they’re far more likely to do so with famous faces than by evoking the spirit of motor racing. With these older catalogs I can project myself into the race car. Today’s marketing angle seems to be, “Be like Leonardo DiCaprio, buy a Tag-Heuer”.
I was traveling to Washington DC and was invited to meet up with family for dinner at Clyde’s in Chevy Chase, MD. As I approached the door I spotted a Bugatti 52 in the window acting as a simple table decoration, which is impressive enough on it’s own, and turned to my wife with a quick, “If that’s real they spent quite a bit on the interior of this place.” That wasn’t half of it. I walked in the front door to be immediately greeted with a 2-story mural of a 1920’s era road race with a battling Bentley and Bugatti leading the way. Peering down the spiral stairway revealed a Jaguar XKSS on display. Again, I said, “now if THAT is real, they spent QUITE a bit on the interior of this place”.
Midget racer at Clyde’s of Chevy Chase
The entire lower floor of the place is bedecked with vintage posters from both international grand prix and local dirt track races. In addition to the XKSS, there’s a Morgan 3-wheeler and a midget racer perched above the bar. Wrapping around the entire lower floor bar is an enormous second mural featuring pre-war racers and various sportscar marques. Upstairs sharing space with the Bugatti 52 are more period kiddie carts: an MG and a Rolls. Amazing.
In short, it’s the Mid-Atlantic’s answer to the Siebken’s bar. It’s always depressing to find a great new hangout only to realize that you live hundreds of miles away from it.
My web searches since I’ve returned home seem to indicate that the Jaguar is indeed authentic. Can anyone confirm?
There’s an atmosphere captured in these shots of the Porsche pit crew servicing Siffert and Herrmann’s Porsche 910 at the 1967 Sebring that is hard to put into words. I don’t know if it’s something to do with the film grain or the sun setting behind the car, or something less discernable. But there’s just something about the shots that make the event seem important: an importance that transcends the perceived importance of a motor race. There’s something in these photos that gives them historic weight. Just amazing.
