When Gustav Eichler sat down at his drafting table at the Eichler Architekturbüro to consider the best method for replicating the spirit of the Targa Florio track in the Eifel mountains he might have hoped, but couldn’t have known, that we’d continue to celebrate his work all these decades later.
When these men took to their shovels in 1925, they couldn’t have known the impact their work would have 85 years later. Today we bemoan the lack of spirit and beauty and challenge in contemporary racetrack design. Eichler didn’t have to consider television angles, or jumbotron placement, or semi trailers, or spectator views, or access roads. He didn’t have to consider run-off areas or medical access either. Perhaps we’re just using the wrong inspirations. When you set out to please sanctioning bodies and television producers and spectators, rather than replicating the country roads that have always truly made the best racing courses, the compromise already creates a ceiling on what can be achieved.
Ready for tarmac.
Was this the first race on the ‘ring?
Seeing these photographs of men with hand shovels and pick-axes carving the world’s most celebrated racing course out of the mountains and forests surrounding the village of Nürburg almost makes the fantasy of gathering some friends, renting a bulldozer, and replicating their efforts seem possible. Just look at these people. The only heavy construction machinery I see is the steam roller—one that would probably be considered small today.
What do you say? Anyone have a large parcel of land—preferably forested, preferably in the low mountains—that they want to donate to the cause? Who’s got a pick-axe and some time on their hands?
With a title that includes the phrase “in Camera”, you would expect that a Paul Parker’s volume rises and falls with the quality of the photographs; perhaps relying on classic or iconic imagery to tell the familiar tales of post-war sports car racing. You know, playing it safe. The author almost apologetically points out that, by simple availability, color photography of the era wasn’t widely adopted enough to tell the tale only through color shots. The lack of color in the early years doesn’t hurt at all, and the photography is indeed marvelous. Even better, the author did not simply play it safe and instead edited away many of the overly familiar photos of cars and star hotshoes in favor of showcasing the breadth of cars and drivers competing in this glorious era. It is because of this that we see Skodas and Rileys and DB Panhards in marvelous representation here alongside the more familiar Ferraris and Astons and Jags. Damn, those OSCAs are beautiful, aren’t they?
With the photo selections smartly chosen and presented. How then, to best craft the story around these snapshots? The typical approach is to write statistic-filled prose that almost all readers will skip over and cut straight to the visuals. Here, however, is where Paul Parker’s book goes from good to great… Masterful, even. Virtually the entirety of the text is the captions of the photos. Rather than simply identify the driver, car, and race and move on. Parker points out in great detail the background story of the photo, the tale of the race, minor detail points of interest in the background. It is this detail and storytelling method that makes Sports Car Racing in Camera 1950—50 so bloody excellent. Observing small details in the photo, and inviting the reader into the story through them invested me in the story of the photo far more than I thought a simple photograph could. When Parker directs my attention to a can of tire black on the floor of the workshop, the unusual color of a drivers’ suit, the flurry of activity in the pits, I become a more active observer of the photograph, and I become more rooted in the time and place of the event.
This marvelous storytelling device makes Parker’s book feel very little like flipping through a coffee-table book and very like thumbing through the personal photo album of a knowledgeable friend regaling you with stories of great exploits from a personal perspective. It’s an odd sensation, but the feelings I got when reading through the book was much more like the sensation I have from reading well-crafted fiction than from what could have all too easily been just another reference book.
The book is not completely devoid of the facts and figures, each year closes with the major teams, drivers, and results of the year’s major events—usually centering around the world sportscar manufacturer championship, which was just forming in 1953. The balance, though, is such that the racing, as told through these photos and captions, is much more about the stories of the era than it is about who won or what their lap time was. This balance is usually a missed opportunity, with books either becoming an almanac of stats, or an author’s interpretation of the events. Parker has done a masterful job of giving just enough facts and figures to back up the photos’ captions.
I’ll just say it: Paul Parker’s Sports Car Racing in Camera 1950—59 is certainly my favorite automotive book of the year, and perhaps the past several years. I highly recommend it to even the most casual fan of vintage sports car racing. Exceedingly well worth picking up. Somebody will definitely thank you for this holiday gift.
Ok, maybe I’m being overly generous calling it a “factory”, but I’ve not seen this shot of the Reventlow Automobiles workshop showing a pair of Scarabs under construction. Life magazine photographer Bill Bridges captured this shot in October 1958. Chassis #001 had already been racking up victories since February of that year, but Numbers 002 and 003, although they would have both had their debut races by October, might still have been in development. Is this Scarab #002 and #003 we’re looking at here? What a treat it must have been to be hanging out with the boys that afternoon.
I’m not enough of a trainspotter to be able to identify the individuals in the shot here, let us know in the comments if you have a better eye than I do.
Images of the salt flats always have an other-worldly air about them. The landscape is so emphatically surreal. When combined with very recognizable icons in the form of 1930s coupes, the effect is almost always unsettling: Reminiscent of some of the best aspects of the visuals of THX-1138. These shots though, by Christopher Wilson elevate it to something entirely new. They are haunting; at once real and unreal, sterile and weathered. Amazing.
Via A Time to Get, which has a few more shots that will have to tide you over while Christopher’s site is under maintenance.
Flight 427, now departing through gates 1, 2, 3 and 4.
Pardon the word play, but Flight 427 is our way of informing you that Corvette can now be ordered with a 427-cubic-inch Turbo-Jet V8. We threw in the bit about the gates just to let you know our fully synchronized 4-speed’s a must with this rig.
The regular-version 427 dispenses 390 jp and 460 lbs-ft of torque on hydraulic lifters, while the special-cam edition turns out 425 hp and the same amount of torque on solid lifters. Which one you order depends on whether you spend your time on the observation deck or the flight line.
Otherwise, we recommend our trusty 327 cubic-incher, available at ratings of either 300 or 350 horsepower. More than enough to slip the surly bonds with, eh, Orville?
You’d better believe it.
Corvette Performance The Chevrolet Way.
’66 Corvette. Fasten your seatbelts. They’re standard.
I love that they openly mock anyone who would even consider the standard 427, or—heaven forbid—the 327. Wusses. We need more open mockery of potential consumers in today’s advertising.
via Voiture-Jaune
Matt at Hell For Motors hipped us to this marvelous clip of Clark at Imola. The lack of audio is heartbreaking, but you’ll make it through somehow.
A local commenter on YouTube points out what should be obvious, but always seems to be overlooked: How startlingly different from the modern Imola this is—which has just undergone another round of updates in the past few years. Much more like a drive in the country than the contemporary, sterile, track. When does the movement to backdate racetracks start? Where can I sign up to help?
In October 1964, Road & Track published a marvelous comparison of the season’s Grand Prix cars as the drivers see them. It’s interesting to see the variety of subtle differences in both instrument layout and the hints at differences in construction. Notice the cramped quarters of the Ferrari 156 with it’s aluminum fuel tanks encroaching closely on the drivers hips versus the relatively roomy frame of the Cooper. Similarly, check out the even spacing between instruments in Clark’s Lotus 24, each with a small attached label versus Gurney’s Brabham tighter, more random, cluster with hand painted instrument labels looking very low tech, shade-tree hot rodder. As pointed out in the original article, it’s interesting that John Cooper seems to have greater trust in his drivers than the other teams, as indicated by the lack of a shift gate (although I don’t see one on the Brabham either).
Sound engineer turned Ferrari restorer Tom Yang visited Monticello Motor Club with his friends Jim and Sandy. Tom says, “Jim and Sandy prepared to do some exploratory laps in their cars. We were surrounded by modern GT3 Porsches, and some newer street cars taking their laps around the track, but when the GTO and Cobra were unloaded from the transporter, people stopped to watch!”
I should hope so. Shall we take a lap in the GTO? Probably.
More photos (in heartbreakingly small sizes) at Tom Yang’s Ferrari Restoration (careful or you’ll lose a few hours digging through his archives).
Ed Foster from MotorSport took part in August’s Citroen 2CV 24 Hour race at Snetterton. MotorsTV just posted the footage and it looks like a whole lotta fun.
