Just watching the Beast of Turin’s engine fire up a few months ago was flabbergasting. To see her spin around the grounds at Goodwood is downright magical.
It’s jarring to see a racing machine that is as tall as a man’s shoulder. Climbing up on to the seat of the 28.5 liter Fiat S76 is more like perching in a biplane than easing down into a low-slung racing car. You emerge from a car like this with your whole body numb from the battle—shaking and tingling for hours afterwards. That pheasant barely made it out with his life. Thanks for pointing this one out, Ryan.
Look at this fire breathing beast; this terrifying, gigantic thing.
This is the very aptly named 1923 Fiat “Mefistofele”. This was the car that a very brave Ernest Eldridge attempted to wrangle to a World Land Speed Record in 1924. This mammoth machine—powered by a 350-horsepower, 21 liter airship engine—certainly looks up to the task, and despite it’s truck-like size, which surely is larger than she looks, Eldridge somehow managed to control the mighty Fiat long enough to achieve the record.
Eldridge and Mefistofele topped out a 146.013 mph over a flying kilometer in Arpajon, France. He had earlier piloted Mefistofele to a standing start half-mile record of 23.17 seconds at 77mph. Now a 23 second half mile might not sound like much to the muscle car fans among us, but I imagine that the only way to simulate the experience would be if you ran your ‘Cuda at the drags while strapped to the front bumper.
This, my friends, is a proper racing car: a little scary, a little elegant, a lot purposeful looking. Let me just say again 21 Liter airship engine. Traction control? Automatic shift? Anti-lock brakes? No. Driving this machine must be like trying to tame a dragon.
Mefistofele indeed.
Let us all salute this impressive monster, and the man who tamed her as an example of the bravado and determination that so roused our collective passion for motorsport.
