I’ve seen countless images of the Grand Prix legends of the 1960s with a bit of gaffers tape obscuring part of their goggles. I never really thought about it until I saw this rather extreme example of Graham Hill’s. Does anyone know why they did this? Was covering the top half of the goggles done to block out the sun? Was it to isolate the extreme motion of items in their peripheral vision? Was it simply to strengthen the goggles themselves?
Head over to SportsIllustrated.com today and run a search for “SCCA”, you’ll find that there isn’t a single article about this year’s racing season. The only article that even mentions the term is about a retired basketball player that owns a Sprint Cup team. It’s almost difficult to imagine an era when back-yard engineers and amateur racers would be featured in a multi-page spread in America’s premier sporting magazine.
Reading the article though, it starts to fall victim to the same pitfalls that today’s mainstream press does when it bothers to cover motorsports: A focus on the personalities and the celebrities attending events. “The meet that doesn’t produce a bosomy Hollywood starlet to top off the black oil grime on the faces of the winners with a scarlet smear of lipstick is impoverished indeed.”
It’s an admittedly short piece, but this photograph of Chuck Daigh’s Troutman-Barnes special trailing Pete Woods’ D-Type Jag more than makes up for any puffery in the text. Also funny now to see Richie Ginther identified as “Ferrari Salesman” and not as the racing legend he would become.
FScheff has the article scanned over on his Riverside page.
Previously: Sports Illustrated’s Racing Covers.
You can almost see Senna’s passion and drive through his helmet—and his years.
When I started The Chicane, it was mainly as an outlet for all of the vintage racing research I was doing. A way to do something productive with all the hours I’d spend Googling obscure racing drivers or collecting images of favorite racing machines. What I didn’t count on, though, was how much I would enjoy the commentary and conversations that arise in the comments section of many of the posts. I’m consistently delighted when a post will prompt someone who raced in the discussed event; or owned the discussed car; or had photos from a discussed race meeting; will comment on a post and takes the conversation in a new, thrilling direction.
A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about a set of photos that reader Brian Goldman sent in of the Put-in-Bay races. The comments, though, are why I love the post. Several of the racers checked in or enquired about particular cars. One of whom, Edward Eichenlaub, was looking for any photos that might include his own winning run at that event. Only a short time later, Manley Ford delivered—emailing me the photo you see above of Ed’s victory.
When I see Chicane readers connecting and fueling each other’s love for vintage racing, I… I don’t know how to describe it… It just makes it all seem so much more worth doing. Thank you all for that.
The Bubble Visor blog has done a marvelous dive into the Dutch National Archives for a series of posts on The Netherland’s relationship with the motorcycle. Naturally, I was most interested in the racing photography, but they dig much deeper into imagery of motorcycle police, recreational riders—the complete gamut. I’ve picked a few favorites here but click on through to each and every post for the complete curation.
We don’t often think of the rallying successes of the Porsche 356. Maybe we should reconsider the little beauty’s abilities off the tarmac. After all, if scores (hundreds?) of Beetles can run the Baja, then certainly its cousin can, and did, hold her own.
The brothers Maserati at the original workshop in Bologna. I don’t know the exact date here but it was before Alfieri died from liver complications in ’32.
The building has since been demolished. Which makes me a bit sad. It brings to mind the dilapidated Model-T factory in Detroit that I used to pass on my daily commute. We go to endless effort to restore the cars but forget almost entirely about where they came from; the situations that led to their development; the craftsman that breathed life into them.
These images from the media announcement of the 1969 Formula Ford championship and the Dutch National Team’s vehicle debut are quite an interesting case-study in how sporting media drops have changed in the intervening years.
Today’s racing press events are glitzy orchestrated affairs: Dance music pulses as the curtain drops. A sheet is pulled from the waiting car before the unveiled car rotates on a stage bathed in carefully selected spotlights. Smiling media-trained drivers bedecked in sponsorship logos emerge from the side of the stage to shake hands with auto executives amid the popping flashbulbs of a baited motoring press.
These shots are exactly the opposite of that. It is a beautifully spontaneous mess:
“Hey Boss, Nick Brittan is here.”
“Who?”
“Nick Brittan. The director of the International Formula Ford Championship. He’s got the trophy with him. I’ll bring him back.”
“Let’s take a few photos while he’s here.”
“Sure thing, Boss. Should I just park the car in front of those ashtrays by the elevators?”
“Yes. And get him to awkwardly pose on the car like he’s a glamour model while we’re at it.”
“Yes Sir! This is going to be great!”
How long to you think this palm tree would last in a contemporary racing circuit’s stands?
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