Seriously. Don’t.
But if you do… Send me the video.
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The Caretaker
“No one really owns a vintage car. You’re a caretaker for a certain period of time.”
Andy Greene
I know I romanticize the past more that it deserves, but is there anyone who would rather hang out in a contemporary racing pit that in this slice of heaven? Anyone know the venue?
This series of eBay auctions of LeMans, Milwaukee and other venues in the 1950s are marvelous. How can you not love that Kodachrome oversaturation? Some of these items are only available for the next 20 hours, so you’d better act fast. See them all at the eBay listings.
Thanks for sending these in, Erik.
Categories
Tippling with Clark
While I was visiting Detroit over the Holidays I spent New Years Day having brunch at the Vinsetta Garage. The Woodward Avenue service station opened in 1919 but has been shuttered for a few years. When I’d heard that it had been sold as restaurant space I was afraid that we’d lose another gearhead landmark to contemporary redevelopment.
Thankfully the co-owners kept more than just the name when the Vinetta Garage re-opened as a restaurant last summer. The interior looks largely untouched. Vintage automotive signage looks right at home next to old Strohs and Schlitz signs near the bar. If I were still living in Detroit, I would absolutely be a regular. As you might expect, the menu is peppered with motoring references of one sort or another—mostly Detroit muscle and hot rods.
This item on the menu, though, stood out as one of only a few GP racing mentions. The cocktail offerings list The Jimmy Clark: Gin, lemon juice, egg white, and sugar with soda. It got me wondering. I can certainly imagine naming a cocktail or two after James Hunt… Maybe Graham Hill… Maybe Ascari… But Jim Clark?
Today, Jimmy is remembered as such a serious—even wholesome—character that it almost seems sacrilege to name a cocktail after him. Maybe the years since his death have made his memory rose-colored and I have it all wrong. Do you think he would have been knocking his signature cocktail back on an evening at the Steering Wheel Club?
More photos from the Vinsetta at the Detroit Free Press.
Expectations and reality have this way of clashing spectacularly. I always have a dream, a fantastic notion of what something might be like. Then I’ll discover that the actuality of it is far more simple; far more ordinary.
This, though, is one of the thankful exceptions. This space is exactly what I imagine when I think of the etceterini workshops. Seeing a few gorgeous Stanguellinis in various stages of completion only makes the point that much more clear: This was no production line factory. This was hot-rodding.
The rough-hewn post and beam construction of the Stanguellini workshop is in many ways a perfect metaphor for this era of Italian sportscar manufacture. Its cleanliness and bare walls suggest practical engineering and luxurious, uncluttered design. The mottled walls and old stumps to panelbeat against remind us that it was no more sophisticated than a repurposed barn. I think one of the things that draws me to the barchettas of this period was that they so exemplify this perfect marriage of the engineer and the artisan in ways that larger manufacturers struggled to hang on to. They’ve got soul.
Thanks, Wheels of Italy.
Categories
Racing Simulators Are Getting Pretty Crazy
Maybe not exactly vintage, but if you can sim-race a Nürburgring this realistic in a GTR, you can do it in a DB3. This is seriously great.
We marveled yesterday at the tremendous lineup at Gooding’s Scottsdale auctions next weekend. With this remarkable list of lots crossing the stage, it isn’t easy for pretend-billionaires like ourselves to decide which cars we’ll be raising our paddles for. Then again, if I was a pretend-billionaire, I’d probably be taking all of them home… Let’s make it pretend-millionaire to keep it interesting.
This 1947 Cisitalia 202 SMM Spider Nuvolari is certainly a beautiful option. It is the esoteric hipster’s choice—why bother consorting with common 50’s and 60’s racing cars when you can hang with the racing machines of the 1940’s. Rare stuff indeed. If you’re an Abarth fan, there’s no reason to immediately dismiss the Cisitalia either. Carlo Abarth was still an employee of Cisitalia when the 202 was designed.
Of the handful of 202 variants (including the 202 and 202MM), the Stabilimenti Farina penned Spider Nuvolari is my favorite. It has all the visual hallmarks of what were to become iconic sports and racing design elements. The oval grille, the beginnings of tail-fins, that low windscreen: They all combine beautifully in this gorgeous little package. Just look at those mesh air intakes! Simply stunning.
There’s no such thing as a bad Abarth. Although I prefer my Abarth coupes with the double-bubble up top—I doubt I’d fit in otherwise—There’s no shortage of beautiful curves and sexy angles of this 1960 Fiat-Abarth 850 Record Monza. I particularly like the details on this particular example. At first glance it’s a bit jarring to see a bright red Italian beauty of this vintage without the required Route Borani wires, but I’m a huge fan of these purposeful (and original) pressed steelies. I think they give it a racier look than wires would.
If you’re planning on going to the track with one of these machines, the Abarth might be right choice. Designed for the racing class changes of 1960, the 850 was a step above it’s 750 brother and remained competitive in club racing throughout the decade. Sadly, this example is fitted with a later 903cc engine.
Gorgeous.
With such remarkable company, you might think the 1960 Autobianchi Bianchina Trasformabile here doesn’t even enter into the equation. It certainly isn’t going to compete with the other two on the track—and you might not even consider it an able racing machine. You’d probably be right. The only sporting Bianchini that comes to mind for me is the tale of George Lucas’ crash in one that prompted his exit from the California sports and racing scene.
Even so, I’m a fan. Italy’s take on the practicality and aesthetic that propelled the Mini to huge successes is clearly in evidence here. Of course, the Fiat 500 clearly is what comes to mind when we think of an Italian version of the Mini. I like the Cincuento, but as a long-time supporter of underdogs, I think I’d take the Bianchina if given the choice between the two. And just dig this two tone interior.
Then again, with an estimate of $35-$45,000, maybe pretend-millionaire me would just take home the Autobianchi as a side dish alongside the Abarth or the Cisitalia. What’s your choice?
More information and photos on the lot detail pages for the 1947 Cisitalia SMM Spyder Nuvolari, 1960 Fiat-Abarth 850 Record Monza, and 1960 Autobianchi Bianchina Trasformabile.
Update:
The auction is complete and the estimates all pretty much nailed. They all came in at the low to middle of their estimated range. If you picked the Cisitalia, you sir, have expensive tastes. Yeah, me too.
1947 Cisitalia 202 SMM Spider Nuvolari $650,000
1960 Fiat-Abarth 850 Record Monza $89,100
1960 Autobianchi Bianchina Trasformabile $40,700
Looking at this ad for a sweepstakes to win a Strombecker Slot Car set makes me wonder if the issue of Boy’s Life that, 40 years later, ended up being scanned for the Google Books archive might have been the winning entry.
It would be like finding Wonka’s Golden Ticket decades after Willy Wonka gave Violet Beauregarde and Augustus Gloop the grand tour.
Categories
Decision in Scottsdale: Which Miura?
When you’re buying, you want an auction catalog that is mostly uninteresting. Lot after lot of uninspiring cars won’t draw the crowds so you can hope you won’t have much competition when that one special lot comes to the stage. Next weekend’s Gooding auction at Scottsdale is not the auction for that kind of buyer. This is one for the seller; or the buyer that thrives on the competition of outbidding all comers. A marvelous collection of cars. So marvelous, that it leaves us with some decisions to make while we pretend we’re hundred-millionaires.
Like this one: which of the two Lamborghini Miuras on offer should we go home with?
Both are S models. So no immediate disqualifiers for the “lesser” version. One example is largely original. The other is the result of a 4-year restoration. One in subtle (yeah, right.) white, the other in an unconventional and charming gold. Decisions… Decisions…
Gooding gives the 1970 goldie (chassis 4548) a higher estimate range than the 1969 white one (3982). What do you think? Which Miura would you want to take home.
This is the first time I’m noticing that I’m just not that into the Miura’s interior. That central gauge panel jutting out like the prow of a ship from the dash just isn’t to my taste.
More details and photos on the lot detail page for the 1970 Lamborghini Miura P400 S (chassis 4548: in gold) and the 1969 Lamborghini Miura P400 S (chassis 3982: in white)
Update: Money talks. And the buyers at the Scottsdale Auctions agreed with most of us that Goldie came out on top. The 1970 Lamborghini Miura P400 S brought in $660,000, while the 1969 Lamborghini Miura P400 S brought in only $577,500. Both notable in that another Miura, on offer from Bonhams recently broke a million.