I actually think this whole approach is quite clever. Why not balance the weight of the driver with the engine and fuel tanks? Although I imagine the handling characteristics must change radically as fuel is burned.
Oh for the days when radical experimentation was encouraged.
Via DesignBoom and The Nostaligia Forum
I blame the tracks. Sure, you could zoom in nice and tight with a telephoto lens that you need 2 assistants to help you hold steady, but this shot of Von Tripps at the ’58 German GP must have been taken with the photographer’s toes on the track. You just can’t replicate the immediacy and drama that close proximity provides.
Being able to see his face sure helps too.
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.
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.
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.
Following up on yesterday’s legend of the Mille Miglia train crossing post, and building upon last year’s post about the incident, I’ve recently stumbled upon more photos of Hans crashing his BRM at the end of one of the long straights at AVUS. The crash at the 1959 German Grand Prix is well known, but while searching for images for yesterday’s post I found these that I’ve not seen before. I didn’t know that the crash was captured at other angles. I’ve seen the photo of Hans crouched beneath the tumbling BRM many times, but these other angles give an even greater impression of how truly close—and how truly lucky—Hans was.
It is not these photos that are the great testament to his bravery, but that he ever got in a racing car again.
This astounding collection of photos from Ten-Tenths member Navyflier is well worth digging through the thread to take it all in. What remarkable shots! What excellent access to the pits and paddock! What atmosphere! It’s shots like these that anyone can use to justify their obsession with historic motorsport to their well-meaning and concerned friends. They worry about us. But a glimpse of these images should help them understand.
Here’s something that just couldn’t happen today. The Hurrell/North team discovered that their Saab’s fuel tank wasn’t large enough for the race so they swapped out the tank from their street A40 Austin, which necessitated punching a hole in the body work to accommodate the fuel filler. Love it.
These are just the tip of the iceberg: more at Ten-Tenths
Imagine the nerves that a 17-year-old (!) Ricardo Rodriguez must have felt climbing into his Porsche RSK Spyder for round 3 of the USAC Road Racing Championship at Meadowdale Raceways on May 31, 1959. Imagine how you’d have felt at 17, waiting for the start of the race, thinking of the daunting nature of the track with it’s Monza-style banking and lack of runoff areas. Now realize that Ricardo probably didn’t feel any of that because he was Ricardo Rodriguez. Even after he rolled the Porsche near the silo turn, he attempted to enlist the help of corner workers to right the car so he could continue.
The race report at Chicagoland Sports Car Club Memories sums up the performance of the then relatively unknown Mexican driver nicely.
“That young Mexican we mentioned was 17-year-old Ricardo Rodriguez of Mexico City. His astonishing ability as a driver had almost every one cheering him along as the David chasing the Goliath. Certainly all we had heard about this lad’s ability was founded on fact. He certainly proved it here at Meadowdale. It was unfortunate that he ‘lost it’ coming through a turn at the northeast corner of the track. While he flipped and completely rolled over in the car, he was able to crawl out from under with only minor bruises. Rodriguez was a comfortable second place and challenging the leader when he went out of the race.”
Chicagoland Sportscar Club Race Report
TG-1514 as raced by Ernst “Hunter” Seiler in 1969.
Bob Tilton’s photo of TG-1514 on Werk Crew, and to be included in his upcoming Porschegasm text, Book One.
The work: Register Now for the Madison All-American Soap Box Derby!
The glory: The winner will receive a kiss from a former Lufthansa stewardess.
Something tells me that 1957 derby champion, Van Steiner, still thinks about that stewardess.
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