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Prof. Grandi looks back over the style genesis of the three prototypes that Franco Scaglione made for Bertone on the 1900C chassis. The aim was to amaze the motor show audience and the Alfa Romeo management with solutions born from the Tuscan designer’s simple mathematical application of principles and solutions to reduce aerodynamic drag   Words and Drawings Massimo Grandi   In 1950, Alfa Romeo made its début with the 1900, a four-door sedan. This was a milestone in the Milan-based company’s history, as it was the first Alfa Romeo mass produced on an assembly line, the first Alfa Romeo ‘unibody’ and the first Alfa Romeo with standard left-hand drive.   The car met with some success among the specialised press, but some of the Alfa customers wanted more power and the gear lever on the floor. On the other hand, the coachbuilders complained that it was impossible to fit out custom builds because of the unibody frame. Finally, neither coupé nor cabriolet versions were planned.   And so, to meet these needs, less than a year after its launch Alfa Romeo presented the 1900C chassis (the C stands for "Carrozzieri", “coachbuilders”) on which Touring and Pinin Farina built the coupé and the cabriolet which were added to the price list and sold directly by the network of Alfa Romeo dealers, called the 1900C Sprint and 1900C Cabriolet. The same chassis was rebodied by many other coachbuilders, more or less successfully. The wheelbase on the 1900C was shortened by 130 mm, from 2630 to 2500 mm, and the 1884 cc engine was fitted with a Weber 40 DCA3 dual-body carburettor, larger intake and discharge valves, respectively from 38 to 41 mm and from 34 to 36,5 mm, with the compression ratio increased from 7.5:1 to 7.75:1 to reach 100 HP at 5500 rpm. Axle tracks: front 1320 - rear 1320 mm. Bertone also worked on the new 1900C chassis, asking Franco Scaglione to design a car on which to experiment new solutions aiming to minimise aerodynamic drag while amazing the motor show audiences, and especially the Alfa Romeo management, with his pioneering design.   Scaglione was an enthusiastic aerodynamic scholar, and his designs were always based on the application of aerodynamic solutions and principles, and here Scaglione’s mathematical approach to design is similar to other great designers of the past, including Jaray, Komenda, Sayer and Savonuzzi.   And thus, the first of three cars marking car design and car history was born, the B.A.T. 5 (Berlinetta Aerodinamica Tecnica no. 5). The B.A.T. 5 was a revolutionary car, the result of Scaglione’s talent: under the supervision of Ezio Cingolani, head of design development and production, he perfected the concepts inherited from aeronautics that he had previously expressed on the Abarth 1500 Biposto. This car, presented at the Turin Motor Show in 1953, aroused the wonder and curiosity of all the visitors. In fact, it was an authentic mobile experimental laboratory, its fantastic forms being none other than Scaglione’s mathematical application of aerodynamic principles and solutions. No element of its design was a self-referential end unto itself, there was a reason and function for everything in terms of aerodynamic performance. Starting from the main lines marking its side profile, designed based on geometric patterns including ellipsis, parabola and hyperbole, mathematical solutions responding to precise needs of maximum penetration and minimum drag.   But Scaglione’s solutions were already applied to the bonnet design and modelling, characterised by a large double air intake between the extended bumpers, without the typical triangular Alfa Romeo grille, replaced by a metal "nose" built into the body. Here we see the upturned W solution, previously experimented and applied to the Fiat-Abarth 1500. In front-engine cars, the air for cooling the radiator water is forced to pass through the grille, filtering through the very narrow gaps in the radiator to be centrifuged by the fan, when forced around all the elements and protrusions in the engine compartment and colliding with the rear bulkhead, leaving through the only exit point at the bottom between the bulkhead and the engine.   The upturned W design responded to the need to rationally convey the huge flow of intake air in the engine compartment to minimise the turbulence on the front and inside the engine compartment, also through the large air discharge apertures behind the front wheel arch.   A similar solution would also be applied by Scaglione to his Ferrari-Abarth 166 built by Scuderia Guastalla.   In the B.A.T. 5, the central headlight of the Fiat-Abarth replaced a “nose”, but the design was identical and this arrangement could later be seen in the 1961 Ferrari 246 P and 156 F1 and again in the 2013 Ferrari “La Ferrari”.   The most eye-catching part, however, which captured the public’s imagination, is certainly the tail, which has a huge window divided into two parts by a thin metal strip, a concept later borrowed by the Chevrolet Corvette Stingray.   And especially the two large fins almost as high as the roof, each with a slit and curving inwards. In fact, these fins were far from sci-fi or pure fantasy, they were the result of a strict, thorough aerodynamic research. To understand this, we have to start from the beginning, that theoretical shape with CX equal to 0.0, the so-called “ elongated drop”.   This solid allowed the fluid stream to flow perfectly adhering to the surface, without creating any turbulence. The problem of practically applying this shape to a car lies in its proportions, which require a length around five times the width. Starting from the minimum width of a two-seater car, the final length of the car would be at least seven metres. The engineer Kamm had solved this problem if only in part using the famous K-tail, while Scaglione sought a solution for the pavilion of his B.A.T. 5 using these large fins.   In this drawing we can see how the pavilion of the B.A.T. is shorter than the virtual pavilion (in red), causing the fluid stream to become detached more or less at the height of the rear pillars. Introducing these large concave fins, the fluid stream was forced to realign to the virtual profile of the elongated drop.   The operational diagram of these fins is even clearer in the second drawing. So these amazing lines and shapes were merely the result of an aerodynamic solution that obtained a Cx of 0.23, which allowed the car to reach a maximum speed of 200 km/h, over 30 km/h more than the 1900 C SS with the same 100 hp engine. At that time, Bertone didn’t have a wind tunnel, and to obtain the precious aerodynamic information necessary for the design, they used a system commonly used at the time based on some woollen yarns. These were applied to the bodywork of the cars driven on the road at different speeds and photographed by another car driving alongside to observe the movements of the woollen yarns in the wind.   In the second experimental car, the B.A.T. 7, the solutions adopted in the B.A.T. 5 were developed further. In the B.A.T. 7, the general profiling of the whole front part was further extended and lowered by 70 mm. Here too we see the double front air intake which had the task of “guiding” the air flows in the engine compartment in a more regular manner. As seen for the B.A.T. 5, the air flows have an escape route through two apertures on the sides of the car just behind the wheel housings and in front of the rear bulkhead. In the B.A.T. 7, having eliminated the fan, given the exceptional nature of the car, Scaglione adopted two continuous tunnels running from the front air intake to the side discharge vents.   The radiators were placed in the tunnel in order to avoid parasite turbulence in the engine compartment. As with the B.A.T. 5, the four wheels were completely faired, the finned air vents of the radiator cooling tunnels were integrated into the front casings, while those in the rear had the profiled shape of the air intakes for the brakes. As concerns the design of the side of the B.A.T.  7, with the casing integrated flush to the body, the inevitable “weight” of the side panel is resolved exceptionally by a balance of solids and voids, a perfect hyperbole drawing the finned air vent of the radiator cooling tunnel here too, a hyperbole that splits into smaller parts in the shaped profile of the rear air intake for the brakes.   The upper arm of the first hyperbole runs perfectly horizontally along the whole length of the door, recalling the horizontal arm of the smaller hyperbole running along the rear mudguard to draw another hyperbole represented by the opening for the exhaust pipe. The curved design of the large windscreen is also very interesting, joining the 45° angle of the side windows to the 30° inclination of its midline. Also in the B.A.T. 7, the most eye-catching part is the rear, where the concave fins are even larger and rounded, indeed in the collective imagination they are reminiscent of the huge wings of the manta ray. In fact, the increase in surface area and therefore the size of the fin terminals is due to the fact that, increasing in height in the front, these had unwillingly moved the centre of pressure forwards, and this could only be compensated by increasing the rear surface area; in any case, in the B.A.T. 7, the function of the fins in the reconstruction of the virtual elongated drop was even more evident, and this further aerodynamic development of the rear fins gave it the lowest Cx value of the B.A.T. series, 0.19.   The B.A.T. 7 was presented at the 1954 Turin Motor Show, and like the B.A.T. 5 it aroused great amazement and admiration. Two years after the B.A.T. 5 and one after the B.A.T. 7, the 1955 Turin Motor Show saw the launch of the B.A.T. 9.   For this car, Nuccio Bertone asked Franco Scaglione to develop the aesthetic concepts of the B.A.T. 5 and 7, again on the Alfa Romeo 1900C chassis, to try to make it more similar to a car suitable for mass production, without however ceasing to amaze the motor show audiences and Alfa Romeo, which that year had planned to launch the Giulietta sedan and had begun working with Bertone to build the Giulietta Sprint bodies.   The B.A.T. 9 of 1955 was in some way different from the formal and conceptual path of the previous models. Here too, due to the direct intervention of Nuccio Bertone, the project aimed mainly to show how the developments of the B.A.T. project could lead to large-scale car production. Although developing the style code of the previous models, the B.A.T. 9 had far more subtle lines, just think of the rear fins: on the B.A.T. 5 and B.A.T. 7, these were very large and ostentatious, while here they were reduced to two far more discreet metal strips. Bertone abandoned all the most extreme features of the previous two cars, turning them into features that were more suited to normal road use: the non-retracting front headlights were now located on the bumpers. For the first time, the classic Alfa Romeo badge adorned the front of the car.   It is important to underline this “diversity of intentions” to better understand the formal solutions of the three cars in a comparative analysis. In the B.A.T. 9 we find all the elements characterising the two previous models, but in a more reduced form. The rear ellipsis is more open, and the shorter side profiles, originating from the rear cut of the door and with a constant progression parallel to the belt line.   A particular feature of the B.A.T. 9 is the ribbing and beading running along the whole side of the car, at the rear maintaining a straight horizontal line deviating from the narrow profile of the fairing, almost as if forming other horizontal fins. Setting out to maintain a low aerodynamic drag, the bodywork kept the large front and rear overhangs, faired wheels (only at the front), a very sleek “drop-shaped” passenger compartment with less angled side windows compared to the body and a large panoramic windscreen with an upturned pillar integrated perfectly into the almost-flat pavilion.   The large air vents behind the front wheel arches also disappeared. One curious thing about this car was Bertone and Scaglione’s decision to eliminate the fairing on the rear wheels but not the front ones. In fact, doing the opposite would have significantly narrowed the front of the car where the fairing, having to leave room for the wheel movements on the vertical axis, caused an inevitable swelling. The two solutions are compared in this drawing.   Of course, there must have been objective reasons for this peculiar solution, but to be honest I have no idea what they might have been. At this point we can look at these B.A.T.s for a comparison of their similarities and differences.   We have already examined the more general aspects the three models have or do not have in common, but it is perhaps interesting to underline the different solutions Scaglione applied to the front headlights. Aiming to eliminate sources of air flow disturbance at the front of the car, in the B.A.T. 5 and 7 the headlights are fully retracting in the B.A.T. 5, incorporated in the internal face of the bumpers. In the B.A.T. 7 they are again retracting, but are placed inside the two air intakes near the central “nose”. In the B.A.T. 9 on the other hand, the headlights are fixed and on show, but integrated into the bumper profile with a Plexiglas casing. Another special aspect marking the three designs is the pavilion. Talking about the pavilion design, Scaglione stated, “ It is certainly the hardest part, both due to the insufficient elongation ratios and the interference that this creates in the fluid stream on the main fairing ”. The solutions on the rear of the pavilion are particularly interesting, with the window and the central stabilizer fin with a different design for each of the three cars. As with the Fiat-Abarth 1500, the window is again very wide and divided into two parts. In the BAT5, the rear pavilion is particularly long, and tapers to create a kind of thick central fin with the two parts of the rear window running from the rear pillars almost to the top of the pavilion. In the BAT7, on the other hand, also in the longitudinal section the pavilion forms a more specific drop shape, connecting to the main fairing with a concave profile that continues onto two large curved fins which, separating the two parts of the rear window, create a thin yet evident central crested fin, limiting the formation of parasite turbulence created by the meeting of the two masses of air running along the sides of the pavilion as far as possible. In the BAT9, these forms are “normalised”, recalling more the BAT5 solution but in a smaller size. The pavilion follows the drop shape to the rear, regularly tapering into a just-hinted thin fin shape, with the two trapezoidal rear windows on the two sides. As explained above, the drop-shaped pavilion requires rear fins to overcome the insufficient length of the pavilion. As we can see, this special function of the fin requires that it be located in the point in which the fluid stream becomes detached from the curve of the pavilion, but in fact it is also necessary for the fin to be progressively aligned along the side of the pavilion both before and after the point in which the stream becomes detached. These aspects can be perceived immediately when looking particularly at the B.A.T. 5 and 7. In both profiles, the fins start at the height of the front edge of the door, rising progressively and following the sides of the cars and ending on the edge of the rear coupling. The concave-convex section of the fins creates a channel between the fins and the sides of the pavilion, drawing a kind of open ellipsis at their ends, which in the specific case of the B.A.T. 7, seems almost to close definitively. In the B.A.T. 9 we find all these elements, yet in a reduced form. The rear ellipsis is more open, and the shorter side profiles, originating from the rear cut of the door and with a constant progression parallel to the belt line. So, as we have seen, while the B.A.T. 5 and 7 seemed to be two authentic mobile experimental laboratories, with the B.A.T. 9 the designers attempted to translate these experimental elements into a formal synthesis suited for a car produced on an industrial scale.   Clearly an experiment, the B.A.T. 9 was never produced in series, but overall these three technical aerodynamic berlinettas contributed enormously to aerodynamic studies applied to cars, and the ability of these applications to generate new and advanced formal languages, as all Franco Scaglione’s works demonstrated to the full. -- Massimo Grandi , architect and designer, previously director of the Car Design laboratory at the Design Campus of the Department of Architecture at the University of Florence. Member of the ASI Culture Commission. Among his published works: “La forma della memoria: il progetto della Ferrari Alaspessa”, “Car design workshop”, “Dreaming American Cars”, “Ferrari 550 Alaspessa: dall’idea al progetto”, “Quando le disegnava il vento”, “Il paradigma Scaglione”, “La più veloce: breve storia dei record mondiali di velocità su strada” (with others).

This time, Luigi Marmiroli’s memoirs look back on the times when Lamborghini’s path met that of the “Designer of the Century”, leading to the style proposal of the first P132, the future Diablo, and the creation of the Calà prototype Words Luigi Marmiroli Photography Courtesy of Luigi Marmiroli Archive Among the many people I met during my professional life in the car world, and with whom I had the opportunity to work, Giorgetto Giugiaro occupies an important place. Not only ironically, he always referred to himself as an honest “pencil pusher”, and, as he started to work at Fiat at the tender age of 14, I think he must have consumed thousands of pencils during his career. These pencils helped him to influence the shape of cars in the last sixty years, and rightly so he entered the Hall of Fame of the Motor Shows in Geneva and Detroit. This article helps me to dust down my memory of when I worked with him on two projects during my time as Technical Director of Automobili Lamborghini. I refer precisely to the style proposal for the P132, the future Diablo, and the Calà prototype, which also had the support of his son Fabrizio. The P132 project was the first of the future Lamborghini car range to replace the Countach. I submitted a preliminary layout of the mechanics to Giorgetto Giugiaro's company Italdesign, and immediately he developed an original bodywork to go round it. We worked continuously with him and his engineers. I remember that we agreed to integrate a spoiler into the front of the car, with two functions: one linked to aerodynamics, to increase the car’s down force, and the other structural, to meet the US type-approval requirements in the crash test. Even the pole test, during which the mid-line of the car hit a vertical pole at high speed, would certainly not have caused any harm to the driver or passenger. Giugiaro produced a whole series of renderings and gave an original presentation to the managers at Lamborghini. He rested a full-scale cardboard cut-out of the car against the wall. Facing the wall as we listened to his learned presentation, I heard Patrick Mimran, the young Lamborghini shareholder who also owned his own splendid Countach, mumble to himself that he didn’t like it. I must admit that, while admiring the style proposal, I too felt it was closer to the philosophy of British sports cars than to the Lamborghini style code. Although it was thought that the project could have obtained the same commercial success as many of Giugiaro’s other works, nothing ever came of it. Exactly 10 years later, in 1995 and after many other not entirely positive adventures with Automobili Lamborghini, Giugiaro presented the Calà at the International Motor Show in Geneva. Like all the Italdesign prototypes, to demonstrate that their proposals were not merely inert models, the Calà was driven onto the stand. The Calà was presented as a research prototype, a 2+2 coupé that could be turned into a Targa top car simply by removing the roof. Designed for everyday use and therefore far more comfortable and functional than the supercars, the Calà was higher than all the other Lamborghini cars of the past. The bodywork was similar to a people carrier, although the effect at the rear was more one of a two-volume car with a short tail and a spoiler with high visual impact. The style was marked by an unusual windscreen that ran into the roof, with two grooves lying above the heads of the driver and the passenger. This solution brought more light into the passenger compartment, which could comfortably hold two adults, and two children on the rear seat. The original dashboard had a rounded ergonomic profile that  protruded towards the driver. The seats were hand stitched and, like all the panel work, were covered in an original and almost shocking bordeaux suede. I was personally very excited about the possibility to dust off the mechanics of the P140 with a design solution by Giorgetto Giugiaro. The chassis mechanics were in fact based on the ashes of the P140 project which should have become the successor to the Diablo. Unfortunately, after prototyping and even industrialisation involving international partners, the US Chrysler, shareholder from 1987, due to internal problems the project was aborted and even Lamborghini was sold to the Indonesian company Megateck. In any case, following the success of the Calà at the Geneva Motor Show, Mantovani, Giugiaro’s technical partner at Italdesign, sent Lamborghini a quote for the supply of the industrialised bodywork, complete with interiors and installations, to be sent to Lamborghini to assemble the mechanics and for the delivering. The proposal included the fitting out of 13 prototypes and, after the tests, the supply of 5 cars a day for a total of 4000 cars. The disappointment when the programme was not accepted by the new Indonesian shareholders was huge. Whenever I climb into the classic Panda designed by Giugiaro, which I keep in my garage, I am filled with nostalgia for this wonderful design that was not-to-be. -- Luigi Marmiroli was born in Fiorano Modenese in 1945. After graduating in mechanical engineering at the University of Padua, in 1970 he was hired by Ferrari to introduce electronic computing to Maranello for the first time. In 1976 he founded Fly Studio with Giacomo Caliri, designing and managing competition cars on international circuits. Their main works were for Fittipaldi Copersucar, Autodelta, ATS and Minardi, with whom they joined forces. The developments in the partnership with Autodelta led Marmiroli to manage the technical unit of the Euroracing team in 1983. Two years later he was hired by Lamborghini to design the heir of the Countach. Other projects came after the 17 versions of the Diablo, though due to the continuing changes of ownership of the Sant’Agata based company, they were never put into production. Marmiroli relaunched Fly Studio in 1997, providing consulting services. One of the projects of the last few years is the development of microcars, quadbikes and commercial vehicles, including electric versions.

The initials MC mean “Maserati Corse”, while the number indicates the number of cylinders hidden under the bonnet: twelve. In the plan to relaunch the historical Modena-based brand, the then-management of Ferrari decided unconditionally to focus on a prestigious project, in line with the Trident traditions: the GT1 series. A “monster” car came from a team effort that also involved Dallara: this is the story of the car and the men that created it Words Alessandro Giudice Photography Paolo Carlini Anyone who loves racing cars will not only have memories but also emotions linked to a series of sensations that sometimes they are not even aware of. And so the sound of a far-off engine or the smell of petrol or sharp braking, or why not, some music, a word, a special light instantly takes us back to a moment in our lives buried who knows where, surprising us with all its strength. When in 2003 Giampaolo Dallara was asked to work on the aerodynamics of the racing Maserati MC12, he probably just had to hear the name to take a step back 60 years in time. He did this reliving all the emotions he felt back in 1961 from behind the walls of the pits in Sebring, Florida, when, aged 25, a young, enthusiastic yet inexperienced engineer, he was catapulted into the USA as sporting director of the Maserati Birdcage with Bruce McLaren, Walt Hansgen and Stirling Moss. And here he is, many years later with an extraordinary reputation in competition car design, dusting off his youthful enthusiasm to bring his extensive experience to the development of a name which, for him, meant fascination, pride and opportunity. In 2002, Luca di Montezemolo, then-chairman and managing director of Ferrari, after the Maranello-based company had bought out the Trident in 1997, set up Maserati Corse which, led by Claudio Berro with the technical management of Giorgio Ascanelli - former F1 track engineer with Berger, Piquet and Senna - intended to help relaunch the brand image with a focus on sport: the racing tradition that had created the Maserati legend, but which the company had abandoned in the 1960s with the Birdcage, the nickname given to the car because of the tight mesh of aluminium pipes typical of the sports prototypes 60, 61 and 63. While the small committee including Montezemolo, Jean Todt, the engineer Amedeo Felisa, then-general director of Ferrari Granturismo, Berro and, on demand, Ascanelli, decided that the Maserati Vodafone Trophy - the single-brand championship fought with the GranSport coupé - would launch the new sporting season, everyone realised that the Modena-based brand needed a more prestigious stage, in line with its history. And so, among the various alternatives offered by the Motorsports panorama, the GT1 series was chosen, as it was thought that this would soon become a world championship. Montezemolo wanted to design a limited edition of a Maserati supercar, based on the contemporary Ferrari Enzo model but with a spider set-up. And this is where the MC12 adventure starts. The name not only includes the initials of the Maserati Corse, but also identifies the number of engine cylinders, the 6-litre V12 taken from the Ferrari Enzo, catalogued in Maranello with code F140. The MC12 also had the Enzo chassis, although during the design phase this was extended by 150 mm. The underlying idea was to build a road car but which could also be used for racing. Thanks to the personal relationship between Claudio Berro and Fabrizio Giugiaro, the Turin-based designer was asked to produce what was known as an artist’s impression, a sketch of how he would have interpreted the car, the only rule to respect being the measurements and sizes set by the FIA for GT cars: “Because there was no point working twice on a car that would be raced on the track: I might as well have set it up right from the start of the project,” Ascanelli says. The young Giugiaro was the right man for this kind of advice, as he had already been involved in the production of the Saleen S7, the American car that successfully raced in the GT championship. This was the style basis that came to Dallara and on which the team, with Luca Pignacca and Dialma Zinelli, in their respective roles as project manager and aerodynamics manager, worked, supported from the very beginning by Giorgio Ascanelli. And these were the last two who began to adapt the model to the technical and aerodynamic needs of the wind tunnel: “As I didn't how to draw, so I gave Dialma the instructions: ‘put an air intake there, lower the front, a bit wider, a bit narrower’,” - Ascanelli recalls, “and that’s how we managed to defined the car. It was great fun.” So the technical surface we had to work on was ready, including the “Targa” style solution of the road version which turned the car into a spider, with a detachable roof between the roll-bar and the windscreen rim, both in carbon. Pignacca says: “The chassis, engine and Enzo gearbox had come from Maserati. Everything else we made ourselves: the suspension arms, pedals, radiators, the tank. Even the steering box, which we fitted a different pump to.” The body was the Enzo carbon chassis, which we extended by 150 mm for sporting needs: “Extending the chassis was practical for eliminating the front wheel vortices. Because if you have to position a 12-cylinder engine longitudinally, with the straight gearbox and the boot, which was required for both road and racing cars by the regulations, you certainly couldn’t have a short tail,” Ascanelli confirms. And, talking about the engine, the F140 65° V12 had been turned into a dry sump engine with a different timing gear, heads and crankcase. All that remained of the original were the cylinders, pistons, camshaft, connecting rods and crankshaft. It was then depowered, with smaller intake ducts, probably as the MC12 could not be faster than the Ferrari Enzo, which had forty or so more HP. These strategic positioning issues did not however affect the clear success - in commercial and image terms even before its sporting success -, in the slightest. When Zinelli and Ascanelli had developed a shape that considered all the aerodynamic needs of the MC12, at Dallara and directly at Ferrari, in charge of the style, along came Frank Stephenson, a talented designer who, among others, had created the BMW-era Mini. “He came to Varano and we spent a few days together, him working on the details of the MC12 to remove all the rough and overly “tracky” features of the the car, seeing as it had started out as the design of a technical surface,” Dialma Zinelli says. Adding: “One curious thing was that, due to the origin of the MC12 project and the long and close friendship between him and Dallara, Piero Ferrari brought us his own personal Enzo and left it in the workshop for a couple of months, and we dismantled it to study all the solutions that had been adopted.” Stephenson’s job was to make the car type-approved for road use: “For instance, by shielding the large air vents on the front bonnet with longitudinal strips (one of the style features of the MC12, ndr), which were necessary, in the event of collision with a pedestrian, to prevent a ball the size of a child’s head from getting inside. And then the narrow front with rounded corners, similar to the oval “mouth” of the historical Maserati Sports like the 200S and, of course, the shape of the front headlights, the position of the rear lights and so on.” These changes were far from marginal, and were what made Stephenson say that the MC12 was “the car I had most fun designing”; the only compromise on the Enzo style he had accepted was the shape of the roof. Giorgio Ascanelli comments on the shape and size of the car: “It’s hard to pinpoint the paternity of the MC12 style: what with Fabrizio Giugiaro's very immature initial sketches, and the aerodynamic improvements made with Zinelli, I think that Frank Stephenson’s work was decisive in adding grace to the design of this large car". "In any case, when Sergio Marchionne, who liked the MC12 so much that he bought one, asked me who had designed it, I told him, it was the wind." Even though a few “stolen” pictures were making the rounds and a racing preview had been seen on the track in Fiorano, both the road and the racing versions of the MC12 were presented at the Geneva Motor Show in February 2004. The road version had been announced to dealers the previous September, and when the sales opened in early November Maserati instantly received 174 bookings and as many deposits for a car that hadn’t been seen and which at the time cost 720,000 Euros. When it was confirmed that only 50 cars would be produced (25 in 2004 and as many again the following year), the company was forced to refund most of the advance payments, even though this did not stop the constant flow of purchase requests from all over the world. It had a huge impact on both the public and insiders, also on the brands racing in the GT championship, who were worried about the entrance of a top-level competitor. Smiling, Ascanelli recalls: “When I met my German colleagues, everyone asked me what kind of monster we were building in Modena!” A “monster” that began to cover miles and miles driven by another key name in this project, Andrea Bertolini, test driver and symbol of a car that he was able to develop into an absolute GT benchmark. Bertolini’s adventures in and around Modena began way back in 1992, when, aged 19, he was hired to test GT cars in Maranello. In 2002, the engineer Amedeo Felisa assigned him to the new “Corse Clienti” department, developing competition cars like the 360 GTC, in partnership with Michelotto and in which Bertolini ran a few races. In late 2003, Todt and Michael Schumacher saw him on the track in Fiorano, and Todt called him into the office: “From next year you will also be testing the F1 single-seater.” “They told me that Michael had strongly supported this choice. 2004 was really tough, it was tiring work but really great,” Bertolini states. “In the first part of the year I only worked on the MC12 tests. Twice a month we did four test drives a week, and when I wasn’t working on the MC12, I was on the track with the F1.” Ascanelli confirms: “Bertolini and I went out at night to find the most winding routes, to see if and how the MC12 handled the road; after a few tests he told me that he thought we were 4-5 years ahead of the competition, thanks to the great work that had been done on the handling, balancing and traction.” Bertolini tested everything, even sitting in the internal scale model to check the arrangement of the controls and the driving position. At least until the first shake-down of the racing car, in Fiorano on 12 January 2004. Ascanelli tells how the début went: “We didn’t make a very good impression. After a lap and a half we had to stop because of a design error, the drive shaft was too short. The whole world was at the track to see the début of the much-awaited Maserati, and we were embarrassed. We sorted everything out and it was already evening when we went back onto the track, also to test the headlights. At 4 in the morning I told the guys to go have a shower, and we would meet again at 8, and one of them said: ‘Who cares about a shower, men have to stink!” Everyone laughed, and we all got back to work.” Schumacher also tried out the car on the track, and Prost too, for a couple of days: “I got on well with him, he was one of my Formula 1 idols as a teenager, and I wanted to know as much as possible about how he worked, and I did that with Michael too. From Alain I learned how to check the worthiness of the technical works: for example, how the bars had to be adjusted, repeating tests over and over with and without the changes, in order to be fully aware of the differences." "From Michael I learned the importance of attention to detail, even in the passenger compartment, and I applied this immediately to the MC12: starting from putting the switches in the right place so that they could be found intuitively. One indispensable thing about a racing car: if the race conditions change, such as rain, the controls needed couldn’t be all over the place on the dashboard. Michael was very firm about this: the switches for a given function all had to be aligned and the same colour.” Mika Salo started to work with Bertolini on the MC12’s track début in 2004. After the tests that had kept the whole team busy from January to July, in September the Maserati finally got on the track in Imola, taking part with two cars (Salo-Bertolini and Herbert-De Simone) in one of the last championship races, but out of classification as it was not type-approved yet: “It took the FIA three races to judge whether the car was a real GT or rather a monster that would have killed the series,” Ascanelli says. The result was in any case excellent, with the two cars finishing in second and third place. The next two races in Oschersleben, Germany, and Zhuhai, China, went even better, with Salo-Bertolini winning twice. Type-approved at last, the participation in the 2005 season marked the start of the MC12’s extraordinary career, which began precisely by winning its début championship. To celebrate its success in one of the most important races of that year, the 24 Hours of Spa-Francorchamps, which the MC12 won twice more in its career, in 2006 Maserati released a limited edition of the car called the “Corsa”, reserved for the most enthusiastic - and wealthy - clients, seeing as it cost a million Euros. Only 12 cars plus a prototype, shown here, were produced. The car was based directly on the racing MC12 and was designed exclusively for non-competitive use on the track. As it wasn’t type-approved for road use, nor subject to the restrictions of the GT technical regulations, the car was the purest expression of the MC12, in terms of both performance and aerodynamics. In the following years, the MC12 won 22 races and 14 Driver, Manufacturer and Team titles, with the crew members Andrea Bertolini-Michael Bartels winning the drivers titles in 2006, 2008, 2009 and 2010, the latter having become the FIA GT1 World Championship in the meantime. The only regret was that the 12-cylinder never had the chance to take part in the 24 Hours of Le Mans. “That was a shame,” Giorgio Ascanelli states, “because the MC12 had all that it took to win. Unfortunately, the ACO (Automobile Club de l’Ouest) which organised the race, decided to spoil things for an FIA GT World Championship winner by increasing the minimum number of road cars built on the basis of the GT model from 50 to 100, so the MC12 was left out. It was a political issue, but that was the result.” Andrea Bertolini reckons that, in his day, the road version of the MC12 was the best super sports car on the market for easy driving, predictability and performance: “We always made the difference in terms of pace on the track, the tyres had the best performance throughout the race.” And he continues: “I remember everything about the MC12, as if it were yesterday. It’s the one car that personally changed me, my own progress and my career, it was a tailored suit that helped me win a lot of races. It was the central focus of a close-knit group of people: I remember all the mechanics one by one, all really motivated guys.” For him, the most thrilling win was the 2010 World Championship in Argentina: “It was my fourth title and we all knew that the MC12 adventure was over. We had already announced that Maserati was withdrawing from racing and wouldn’t be taking part in the 2011 championship. It was the end of an extraordinary run, after seven years, with a great car still leading the field". "I often think of Michael Schumacher and when he tested it. He complimented me on the work done, and said: ‘Andrea, you're going to have fun with this car.’ He couldn’t have been more right.”

Tracing the Journey of a Motorsport Icon: The Chassis number 11431954 OSCA MT4's Epic Tale from Italian Tracks to Classic Car Renaissance - A Story of Speed, Triumph, and Timeless Restoration. Photography by Jeroen Vink (IG: @jeroenvinkphotography) From an interview with Alex von Mozer VSOC. The 1954 OSCA MT4 stands as a testament to the craftsmanship of the Maserati brothers, who in 1947 had founded the Officine Specializzate Costruzioni Automobili, or OSCA, which specialized in competition sports cars. Born in Bologna, this iconic sports racing car wasn't just a machine; its low weight and high power rendered it a symphony of speed and ferocious tenacity – one which would etch its legacy on the tracks of Italy and beyond. Having been entered in almost 70 official races between 1954 and 1962, chassis number 1143 is a thoroughbred racer – indeed this was the most frequently raced of all OSCA MT4s. Francesco Giardini, the first custodian of this speed demon, wasted no time unleashing its potential. The year was 1954, and Giardini hurled the OSCA into the crucible of motorsport glory – the Mille Miglia, as well as the 1000km Eifelrennen at the Nürburgring, and the hallowed asphalt of Le Mans with #42 emblazoned on its frame. After conquering this trio of behemoth races, Giardini's journey with the OSCA continued with a dozen Italian hill-climbs and circuit races. In 1954, he etched his name in the annals of racing history by clinching the Italian Championship in the 1.100cc Sport class, securing four overall wins and five class victories. As the seasons changed, so did the hands that gripped the steering wheel of #1143. Attilio Brandi of Florence took the wheel, entering the OSCA into an impressive 37 races over three exhilarating years. He claimed 10 class wins and 10 second places with the OSCA. One of his major results was his class win in the 1.100cc Sport category in the 1956 Mille Miglia. Brandi also claimed second place in the Italian 1.100cc Sport championship in 1955, and was the overall winner of the Italian Mountain Championship in the 1.100cc Sport category in both 1956 and 1957. The OSCA’s pedigree shows that this was more than a race car; it was a perpetual contender, a constant force in the Italian racing scene. It tasted the asphalt of the Targa Florio four times from 1958 to 1961, leaving its mark on the historic circuit. In 1962, the curtain closed on the racing career of #1143 after a handful of Sicilian hill-climbs, and it found its way into the hands of a now unknown Sicilian racing driver. There, it faded into obscurity and sadly, some disrepair, until the 1980s. Alfonso Merendino, the winner of the 1977 Targa Florio, discovered the battered relic in an underground car park, awaiting rescue. The restoration, completed in 1997, breathed new life into #1143, and Merendino sold it to Alexander Fyshe, the long-time president of the Maserati Club UK. For over 15 years, he reveled in its timeless beauty and historic significance. The torch was eventually passed to the current owner through Netherlands-based VSOC, and the OSCA MT4 once again graced the tracks, participating in the commemorative editions of the Mille Miglia and Le Mans in 2023. A third-place finish in the latter race signaled that the old stallion still had plenty of fight left in her.As plans take shape for future classic events, the OSCA MT4, with its rich history of adventure and victory, continues to captivate hearts and minds. Alex von Mózer MsC is a lifelong car enthusiast and owner of VSOC. Grew up with fast cars and clearly remembers seeing his first Ferrari Dino 246 GT in Italy when he was only 4 years old. Father of 2 lovely girls. Always very busy with the client in mind. Enjoys sports, racing and rallying. Photographer Jeroen Vink is a highly skilled professional photographer residing near Amsterdam, Netherlands. With a diverse range of interests and talents, he is not only an accomplished photographer but also an engineer with a profound fascination for vintage cars and exquisite timepieces. His expertise lies in the realm of automotive and product photography, particularly in the captivating domains of jewelry and watches. Throughout his career, he has curated an awe-inspiring portfolio, attracting esteemed clients such as Stellantis, Renault, Fiat Professional, Watchtime magazine, and Hodinkee.

As Sporting Director, he won eighteen world titles, and trained least three hundred drivers, many of whom were Italian and many discovered personally by him. He is the man who created the Lancia rally legend, almost managed to bring Ayrton Senna to Ferrari and still today holds the Atlantic crossing record. He agreed to tell his story to us in his farmhouse in Puglia, where he retired twenty years ago Words & Photography by Alessandro Barteletti (IG: @alessandrobarteletti) Video by Andrea Ruggeri (IG: @andrearuggeri.it) As soon as you arrive, the scene is far from what you might expect. Cesare Fiorio is waiting for us at the door of his farmhouse in Puglia, surrounded by dogs that fill you with joy just looking at them. “They’re all strays,” he explains, “they came here of their own initiative, and we adopted them all.” Their names each tell a story: one of them, Virus, is a black Breton who turned up on the doorstep one day during the pandemic. Class of 1939, born in Turin, Fiorio retired here a couple of decades ago. “It all happened when I stopped working on the races, something I had been doing for forty years. One day some friends took me to Puglia. I’d never been here before, and I never left after that: it wasn’t just the place I liked, but the people, their friendliness and hospitality.” After shaking hands, Fiorio accompanies us into what he called the Breakfast Room, but which in fact is more of a museum packed with the memorabilia of a unique and unrepeatable life. He calls it that because this is where guests are served breakfast, all strictly home-made, including the ingredients: Masseria Camarda in Ceglie Messapica is an ‘agriturismo’ but also a farm. We sit beneath what was once the bodywork of the Formula 1 Ferrari in which Nigel Mansell won the Brazilian Grand Prix in 1989, on Fiorio’s début as Sporting Director in Maranello. An extraordinary story, told also by the many photos, trophies and other mementoes around us. [click to watch the video] All things considered, as Lancia and Fiat rally director, Cesare Fiorio won 18 world titles. Looking back over those amazing years, you realise that his greatest achievement was to be able to compete on equal terms with adversaries of the calibre of Porsche and Audi, even when the terms were actually far from equal. Behind this were creativity, improvisation as well as the ability to invent techniques and strategies. And this is what we came to talk about, the Fiorio Method. Racing is part of the Fiorio family DNA: that goes for you, your son Alex, as well as your father Sandro, who raced successfully in a few competitions (including the ‘Mille Miglia’) before getting a job with the Pesenti family’s Lancia. And going with your father to the races, you also met some of the greatest champions of that time. Who was that young Cesare, and what were his dreams and ambitions? I remember Gigi Villoresi, Alberto Ascari… I was very young at the time, and they were very famous. More than meet them, I saw them close-up, but it was enough to make me realise that my own goal was to race cars. Things were different back then, you couldn’t race until you were eighteen, when you could get a driving licence. That was when I began competition racing, and managed to win the Italian GT Championship in 1961 behind the wheel of a Lancia Appia Zagato. That was when you discovered your true vocation: organisational, or as they say today, managerial skills. As I racing driver, I realised that something was always missing. I said: if this thing had been there, or if someone had been there in charge of doing that other thing… it really didn't take much to get better results. And so I began to organise races for others, and that became my speciality. In 1963, with Dante Marengo and Luciano Massoni, you set up something that went on to become the Lancia racing team, today a piece of car racing history: the HF Squadra Corse. What was the intuition behind that success? At the time there was a club you could only join if you had owned at least six Lancia cars. It was called Lancia Hi-Fi, high fidelity, expressing the members’ bond with the brand. I took these two initials - HF - and put them into a racing team. There were three of us at the start, then we took on two mechanics, Luigino Podda and Luigi Gotta. Then Lancia gave us a small - very small - shed, with no equipment, no rooms, not even a hoist. We had the cars prepared externally, by Facetti in Bresso or Bosato in Turin, and we just managed the maintenance. But in our own small way we did things well, and one step at a time we grew and began racing with the cars we had prepared. Few resources, great determination: aside from the race reports, there are many interesting behind-the-scenes episodes. Can you tell us about the first time you met Roger Penske in Daytona? It was 1968, and we decided to race a Fulvia Zagato at the 24 Hours of Daytona. It was our first time in America, and we were facing opponents of the calibre of Porsche, Chevrolet… I remember I arrived three days before the race, trying to get a feel of the place and understand how things worked. One of the things I realised was that the pit position was very important, given the importance and delicacy of the stops in such a long race. I chose mine and told the organisers, who didn't bat an eyelid. A couple of days later, Roger Penske arrived. To be honest I didn't know who he was, but in the States he was already a big name and his team was one of the favourites in the race. He went to the organisers, and they told him that his usual pit had already been taken by Lancia. He came over to me, introduced himself and told me that it was his pit. I answered, “Look, the organisation gave it to us, we’ve already settled in and we’re not going to move now.” His gentle manners became more hostile, and I can still remember the sarcasm in his voice when he looked at our little Fulvia: “Who do you think you are!” But I didn’t budge. In the end he walked off, sending us to hell, and we kept the pit. At the height of the Fulvia’s successes, after winning the RAC in 1969 (another incredible story: the bushing taken off Lampinen’s car to allow Källström’s to get going again and win), Fiat bought Lancia and you were sent packing. And then you met Gianni Agnelli… When Fiat took over the ownership of Lancia, the changes were instant. I was called in by the Personnel Manager who told me they didn't need me anymore. Lancia belonged to Fiat, and Fiat would do the job instead of me: “You’ve got three months to find yourself another job, after that our relationship will come to an end.” So I went to the Turin Motor Show, where all the stars of this world met every year, hoping to find a few good contacts. As I was doing the rounds, I noticed a line of frantic photographers and journalists: behind them was Gianni Agnelli. I didn’t know him personally at the time, but he saw me and recognised me. “Fiorio,” he said, “now you can help us win a bit too!” I looked at him, puzzled, and told him that I would have loved to if his Fiat hadn't just fired me. A week later, the Personnel Manager called me: “You can stay, we would like you to run both the Lancia and the Fiat racing teams.” Let’s talk about the Lancia Stratos: a puzzle-like project, where you managed to put all the pieces together even when it wasn't sure they would fit. I had a very clear idea about what the car should have been like: Bertone supplied the bodywork, we worked on the chassis, Dallara was going to develop the suspensions after that. The problem was the engine. Fiat and Lancia didn't have anything suitable, so one day I took a big risk and went to see Enzo Ferrari in Maranello. He showed great respect for our work, because - as he underlined - we managed to win with very few resources available. I told him about the new project we were working on, describing it as something futuristic that however was missing the most important part: the engine. “My Dino will be perfect on your car,” he said. A one in a million event. And the rest is history. And then, once again, Fiat put a spoke in the wheel: at the height of the Stratos period, the managers in Turin preferred to invest in the 131 Abarth version, with an eye on the commercial returns of the operation. You didn’t lose heart, and turned this umpteenth “incident” into another success story. Then came the Group Bs, and with the rear-wheel drive 037 the world title was yours, to the detriment of Audi and its four-wheel drive. Audi was ruling the world at that time, being the first to introduce four-wheel drives and having gained experience with that technology that we still didn’t have so weren’t familiar with. I knew that our only chance was to build a completely different car from theirs, closer to our own traditions. That’s how the 037 was born: lightweight, a central rear engine and great handling. Surrounded by a team of tireless mechanics, brilliant engineers, great designers and top drivers. A combination that, in 1983, helped us to win, beating the deadly and, until then, unbeaten Audi Quattros. Do you remember any episodes in particular from that time? We had just finished a special stage on a dirt road and we were in the lead. All the teams were lined up along the same road for assistance. The Germans were a few metres ahead of us, but at one point I saw an Audi pull up at full speed and stop in front of us. Their manager got out, panting, and without saying or asking anything threw himself under one of our 037s. He thought he would find out something, but of course we were compliant, there were no hidden secrets under the car. This episode really struck me, as it proved that our ability to react had caught them off-guard. The Group B years were crazy: cars were monsters, and drivers were tamers, not to mention the fans, who literally tried to hug the cars as they flew past in the race, sometimes even touching them. What was it like to be part of that era? There were many, too many accidents, both among the public and the crews. Losing Attilio Bettega in Corsica in 1985 and Henri Toivonen and Sergio Cresto again in Corsica in 1986, we were also victims of this. It was inevitable that something had to change. I remember when, at the height of the 1986 season, the Federation put an end to Group B, saying that from the following year our cars wouldn’t have been allowed to race. The regulation stated at least two years’ notice, but that was an extraordinary situation. I accepted the decision, even though I knew we didn't have anything ready. The new Group A only accepted cars that were mass-produced with at least 5000 every year. All we could do was look at the cars that were already in our catalogues, and so the choice fell on the Lancia Delta 4WD. A few months later, at the début Rally in Montecarlo for the first race in the Championship, we took a new win home, with Miki Biasion in first place with Tiziano Siviero and Juha Kankkunen with Juha Piironen in second. In spring 1989 the call came from Ferrari, when - we have to admit - Ferrari was a disaster. I was at the Portugal Rally, it was Saturday and we were winning, when I got a completely unexpected phone call. It was Cesare Romiti, the then-Chairman of the whole Fiat Group, and wanted me to come home for a chat. I tried to explain that we were in the middle of a race, but he wouldn’t listen. I left instructions for the team and on Sunday morning I took the first flight from Lisbon to Milan, where Romiti was waiting for me. “We need you at Ferrari, are you on board?” Of course, I told me, without hesitation, explaining that I could have been ready in a few weeks. “You don’t understand, we need you right now,” he said. So the next day I went off to Maranello and that’s how my adventure with Ferrari began. Many years before that, you had already worked at Maranello. That was in 1972, when Enzo Ferrari called me to manage his team for the Targa Florio. “I think you can be of help to us in Sicily,” he said. He thought that the Sicilian race - at that time a very important part of the prestigious Sport Prototypes championship - was closer to a rally in management terms. I agreed, and we won the race with Arturo Merzario and Sandro Munari’s Ferrari 312 PB. In the first Formula 1 season you won three races, the first on your début, as many as Maranello had won in the three previous years. And in 1990 with Alain Prost you just missed the world title. You revolutionised the whole thing, right from the beginning demanding that the design – at that time decentralised to the UK under the management of John Barnard - should return home. It couldn’t work, a series of dynamics had been triggered that for me were unacceptable: when things went well it was thanks to the UK, when things went bad it was Maranello’s fault. I asked Barnard to move to Italy, but he refused so we said goodbye. Is it true that you then asked Giampaolo Dallara to become Technical Director? Looking for someone to replace Barnard, I wondered who was the best, and of course I contacted Dallara, also because of the experiences I had had with him in the past. We had known each other since the Stratos period, and I had put him in charge of the development of all the Lancia cars for the track speed races, from the Beta Montecarlo Turbo to the LC1 and LC2. But Giampaolo was very busy with his company, and thought that accepting Ferrari’s offer would have been a kind of betrayal to his employees who had always believed in him. Seeing where he got today, I think he made the right choice. You also tried to steal Ayrton Senna from McLaren and bring him to Ferrari. It wasn’t hard to see that Ayrton Senna was the man to focus on. In 1990 we already had Prost and Mansell in the team, two brilliant drivers, but bringing Senna to Maranello meant that he would no longer be an opponent. I was really struck by the way Ayrton managed the whole negotiation. Discussing his contract, who his engineers would be, which driver he would be with on the team and all those aspects that have to be clarified in the draft contract, it was just me and him, no manager, no lawyers. We reached an agreement, but then Ferrari put the pressure on and this blew up the whole operation, and ultimately led to the end of my relationship with Maranello. History, and Ayrton’s own history, could have taken a completely different turn. Tell us about your son Alex: what does it mean to be a driver’s dad? My son’s only defect is that he’s called Fiorio. When he started to make his name, it was clear that the kid had talent, and this made me aware of a very difficult situation. It would have been natural to take him on for his skill, but that would have fuelled a whole load of criticism that would have clouded his career. So I made the ethically most correct choice, even though I knew he was a really good driver and deserved better, in fact he won not only the Group N World Championship with a private car, but in 1989, aged just 24, he came second behind Miki Biasion with a Jolly Club car. Today, Alex lives in Puglia like me, and he also runs the Fiorio Cup, a competition held on a track we built behind the farm. Cesare Fiorio maritime pilot: your adventure with the Destriero is still an unbeaten record. I raced motorboats for eighteen years. Any Sunday when I wasn’t busy with the teams, I would race in the sea, and I must admit I won many of the most important races in this category, including two world titles. But I had my heart set on the Blue Ribbon, the prize awarded to those crossing the North Atlantic, from Europe to America and back again, in the shortest possible time. My first attempt was with an Azimut Benetti boat, but one of the engines broke and we dropped out. I had another chance right after I stopped working at Ferrari, when I received a phone call from His Majesty the Aga Khan, who offered me the possibility to manage, organise and lead that extraordinary boat, the Destriero. It was really futuristic: built by Fincantieri, it was over 67 metres long and was driven by three General Electric aeronautical turbines, the ones installed on the famous F-117 Stealth bomber. We set off on 9 August 1992 from the Ambrose Light in New York, covering 3106 nautical miles without refuelling on the Atlantic Ocean, as far as the Bishop Rock lighthouse in the Scilly Isles in England in 58 hours, 34 minutes and 50 seconds, with an average speed of 53.09 knots (almost 100 km/h). Yes, the record still hasn’t been beaten. So your life has been dominated by passion. But there’s still one thing we haven't talked about: music. Music is another of my great loves. I have played most instruments, from the drums to the double bass. At one point I even had a jazz band, where I played the saxophone and Enrico Rava the trumpet. But then he became a famous artist and my fate led me elsewhere. -- Alessandro Barteletti is a photographer and journalist. Through his photos, he has been revealing the reality behind news stories, as well as social and sports events, for almost 20 years. Being keen on anything that can be driven fast, on the roads or flying in the sky, he has specialized in the auto, aviation and space industries. Among his clients: National Geographic, Dallara and Italian Air Force. Alessandro currently lives between Rome - where he was born - and Modena, the heart of Motor Valley; he is the editor-in-chief of SpeedHolics Magazine.

This is quite the fairy tale, the story of an Argentinian businessman who came to Italy to make his dream come true. Luigi Marmiroli recalls when they were both at Lamborghini, where Horacio took his first steps and immediately demonstrated his tenacity and determination Words Luigi Marmiroli Photography Courtesy of Luigi Marmiroli Archive As our eager readers well know, in my professional life I met and cooperated with many famous people from the leisure, sports and competition fields of the motoring world. I have already talked of Enzo Ferrari, Ferruccio Lamborghini, Carlo Chiti and Clay Regazzoni. There is another person that I am very fond of, as I had the chance to work with him at Lamborghini until he left to doggedly follow his own dream of building his own car. The opportunity to write this article comes from the fact that in May, Pagani Automobili celebrated the 25th anniversary of its foundation. An important celebration: in a lovely square in Modena, twenty-five cars - from the first Zonda to the last Utopia - were put on display all together, thrilling the fans. But here’s where it all began. Horacio Pagani was born in Argentina; his father was a baker. As we know, all the great founders of Modena car companies came from humble backgrounds: the Maserati brothers were two of the seven children of a railway worker; Enzo Ferrari’s father was a blacksmith; Ferruccio Lamborghini came from a family of farmers. In 1983, with a tent and two bicycles, the young Horacio Pagani left his country for Italy, dreaming of pursuing that passion he had developed as a child building model cars. The second bicycle was for Cristina Pérez, whom he married shortly afterwards. He immediately accepted whatever job he could find: from gardener to welder, while his wife worked in a shop. Of course, their means of transport was the bicycle, and the tent their home. Having knocked in vain on the doors of several car manufacturers, finally he managed to join Lamborghini as a level-three worker in the experimental bodywork department. And it was here that, in 1985, I too was hired by Lamborghini Automobili. I met him in a small department, shielded from prying eyes by wooden panels, getting his hands dirty with resin and fibreglass as he built a plastic spoiler for the Countach. Since then, the boy – as they say – has come a long way. Even then, his mind was driven by two guiding stars, one old and one modern. When he was a child, Horacio fell in love with Leonardo Da Vinci and his philosophy, according to which Art and Science can go hand in hand. Not by chance, he called his first son Leonardo. He confessed to me that he often went to visit the town of Vinci, spending hours in the genius’s birth home, as if directly communicating with his spirit through those old walls. The second person is Manuel Fangio, driver, who won the Formula 1 championship several times and is considered one of the best drivers of all time. Fangio took Horacio under his wing, placing his experience and knowledge at his disposal and becoming both friend and mentor. One day, Horacio took him to visit Lamborghini, and there I too had the chance to meet him and, together with Sandro Munari, appreciate his professionalism and innate modesty. Sandro Munari, who was also a famous rally driver, four times world champion, was there in his capacity as newly appointed PR of Lamborghini. Fresh from the competition world, in which they were introducing the first composite material components, I remember then that I felt that the time was ripe for their development and use in the supercar world. When we were designing the Diablo, we were able to introduce a lot of components that were skilfully made by Horacio and his meagre work team. And what’s more, Lamborghini was the first car manufacturer to invest in a new department devoted to the mass production of these components using a large, innovative autoclave. And Horacio was in charge of the department until he decided to leave Lamborghini. Increasingly an expert in composite materials, Pagani also demonstrated major style skills that allowed him to express the best possible design of the components that took shape using this technology. The Countach Evoluzione was the first attempt to produce a chassis in composite materials. In 1988, celebrating the 25th anniversary of the foundation of Automobili Lamborghini, the new Diablo project wasn’t ready yet and the available budget was not very big, so it was decided to create a celebration version of the Countach in-house, developing the style and setting up the modifications. Set this extremely hard task, Horacio Pagani created a special version using solutions that didn’t change the style of the Countach “legend”. The time was exceptionally favourable for supercars, and the Countach 25thAnniversary – as it was called - recorded greater sales than all the other versions of the same car. A few years later, to celebrate the 30th anniversary of the foundation in 1993, supported by Italian state funding, now with Horacio working freelance, we worked on another highly innovative project: a precursor of the hypercar, made entirely in carbon fibre, a solution way ahead of all the competitors. The chassis, made of thin carbon fibre walls, was a masterpiece of car engineering. Nothing came of the design, known technically as the L30, but that’s another story… I confess that I still dream of driving this car, recording fantastic performances on a non-existent race track. P.S: At this point, if they wish my readers can return to the cover page and see all the names of the characters written in mysterious Leonardo da Vinci-style mirror writing. This shows how we are still charmed by the genius behind the Mona Lisa… -- Luigi Marmiroli was born in Fiorano Modenese in 1945. After graduating in mechanical engineering at the University of Padua, in 1970 he was hired by Ferrari to introduce electronic computing to Maranello for the first time. In 1976 he founded Fly Studio with Giacomo Caliri, designing and managing competition cars on international circuits. Their main works were for Fittipaldi Copersucar, Autodelta, ATS and Minardi, with whom they joined forces. The developments in the partnership with Autodelta led Marmiroli to manage the technical unit of the Euroracing team in 1983. Two years later he was hired by Lamborghini to design the heir of the Countach. Other projects came after the 17 versions of the Diablo, though due to the continuing changes of ownership of the Sant’Agata based company, they were never put into production. Marmiroli relaunched Fly Studio in 1997, providing consulting services. One of the projects of the last few years is the development of microcars, quadbikes and commercial vehicles, including electric versions.

Preferring ‘carpe diem’ to a constructed scene, she is an artist who captures gestures and expressions rather than having her subjects pose for a portrait. With her uniquely sensitive style, she turns shots of cars and the world around them into delicate, highly romantic photos. Here’s how the British photographer launched her own great little revolution Words by Francesca Rabitti Photography by Amy Shore (IG: @amyshorephotography) Amy Shore is a modern Jane Austen: characters appear from the lens of her camera, creating stories. I would certainly recognise one of her photos among thousands, because nobody can tell a situation that includes a car like she does. Most of her colleagues put cars in the centre of a world that revolves around them, while she defines herself as a photographer of people more than of cars, because a car is just a car, perhaps photographed over a thousand times in the past, while all that surrounds it changes continuously, evolves, and this is why it deserves more attention. And so a white car travelling through the countryside can show us so much more, with a little imagination: escaping from the hustle and bustle of the city, a Barbour jacket protecting from the cold, a pair of wellingtons to walk in a meadow damp with dew, the misty landscape and the sky promising rain that will never come. The damp air that gets inside the bones as soon as you breathe it in. But then this is England, and that’s why I love it. Or again, an empty beach, a distant sea with the cliffs looming above. Two cars parked on the sand, looking towards the horizon, like two friends enjoying a trip to the seaside, or two lovers. There is romanticism in Amy’s photos, perhaps also due to the unmistakeable view that embraces the onlooker. And talking of romanticism, I find out that Amy used to be a wedding photographer, and approached the car world with the same love she would use for the happy couple: warmth and emotion are the feelings she seeks to convey, even though she is the first to admit that it’s not easy working with a modern supercar. Without forgetting spontaneity, something you note straight away; studying the fine details of a set is not part of her work methods, she prefers to seize the moment rather than have creative control over the situation. I remember the first time I saw her Instagram profile, I said: “At last, a woman who sees cars from a different viewpoint.” She made a difference, and in her works I could spot a minor revolution. So I just had to ask her what it means working in such a man’s world. She said that there was still some prejudice, particularly from older people. Recently she was asked if she was a full-time photographer, if it was her only job: having done this for ten years, who knows if people would have asked her the same question if she had been a man. How much longer will she have to keep on showing how good she is? Despite all this, her talent has been her best calling card, and that’s what has allowed her to work for the most prestigious magazines since she first started out. One among all of them: Octane - if you haven’t seen her article on the DeLorean, look for it - which contacted her about a job. She confesses that she felt under a lot of pressure, she was afraid that they wouldn’t like her innovative style. And yet, a little while later and one of her photos was on the cover, on the shelves of all the newsagents. After this she was hired by illustrious clients, including Pirelli and Bentley, while Goodwood wanted her to document its events - just to offer a few examples. But where did her love for photography come? Amy has always loved taking photos: she defines herself as an impatient artist, capturing people and situations is one way of satisfying her restlessness, getting a result in less than a second. When she was at school, she loved artistic subjects the most, and this is why she thought she would become a designer. But cars grabbed her attention only when she passed her driving test: growing up in a small town in the middle of nowhere, having a car meant being free, not having to depend on her parents for everything. When she was 19, her passion for all things beautiful led her to buy a vintage Mini: she wasn’t interested in engines, more in driving and style. It was when she started photographing these cars that she got to know them better, but she confesses that she still has a lot to learn about modern cars. So what does a professional who, despite her young age, has photographed all the cars she has wanted to, from the Ferrari 250 GTO to the Jaguar D-Types, to name but a few, still dream of doing? Certainly, she would like to have some new adventures, the Mille Miglia or Le Mans, or perhaps shooting a road trip in South America or the Norwegian fjords: for work or for pleasure, she would like it to be soon. Talking about unforgettable memories, she has no doubts: the time she flew in an acrobatic plane to photograph another one of the same kind. During a loop, the engine cut out as they were upside down facing the sky, and they had to turn round to face the earth for a couple of seconds in order to switch it back on. That was certainly one of her most memorable shots, even though she hasn’t forgotten the day when she had just 40 minutes to photograph Sebastian Vettel and Charles Leclerc together, standing in front of a Ferrari Monza. Being a photographer on Instagram has its pros and cons. This is one question we just have to ask today of a professional working in this field. The existence of a free platform where you can promote your own work and find inspiration from others is certainly a clear advantage, but Amy mentions some of the down sides, which make me think. First of all, you risk comparing your work to that of your colleagues all the time, seeing which events they have been to and which cameras they have used. Very often there is a very high psychological price to pay. So, is it worth it? Without mentioning the number of “likes”: she switched this option off a while back, as she didn't want other people to see hers, and doesn't want to see those of others. All too often this becomes a yardstick for judging the quality of the work rather than the work itself, and this is very sad. Since Instagram changed its algorithm, only 10% of your followers see the work you publish, and this has led to a sudden drop in engagement, and consequently in self-esteem. One day someone said to her, “We hired you for this job because you have a lot of followers and we expect you to post something about us.” This is the worst kick up the backside you could get, because it means that you don't care about the years of hard work, the sexist comments, the sleepless nights, you just look at the numbers. At the end of the day, Instagram is fantastic, but only if you can cope with the stress and you are able to set limits. In this regard, it springs to mind how Amy is part of a real revolution, one of the first photographers to offer magazines that typical style of social networks in the digital era. She tells me that when she started photographing cars and publishing her work on social media, she was one of the few people who had an interesting style. In her opinion, Laurent Nivalle was the only one doing some innovative work, as he didn't think of cars as superstars in the spotlight, rather as subjects on which the light fell and around which people interacted. Amy was inspired by him, because his lens talks about cars in an interesting way, attracting the attention even of people who aren’t car enthusiasts: in some way, he considers them like people. In addition to Nivalle she mentions Harry Benson, Vivian Maier, Don McCullin, as well as artists like Jack Vettriano and Alvaro Castagnet, the film director Wes Anderson, for their unique way of seeing the light and colours, and how they build their scenes. I’m curious to know what advice she would give to young photographers trying to find their way in the world – because enjoying the fame that Amy does also means being imitated: many times I have seen poor copies of her shots. She offers a lesson she learned from Nivalle: if you copy other people, you will always be one step behind. You have to find your own style. So, there’s no problem taking inspiration from others, but you have to select the right subjects, understand which lenses are right for the best shot, choose the right light, and of course, the best way to edit the shots. Every work has to have the photographer's trademark: that’s the only way to avoid being one of the many. Any art form can be of help: films, music videos, dancers, artists generally, they are all precious sources of inspiration. And talking of work, what are her tools of the trade? Amy never goes anywhere without her two Nikons: a Z9 on her right shoulder and a D6 on her left, with a 35mm f/1.4 lens on one and an 85mm f/1.4 on the other. Recently, she has fallen in love with the Z 50mm f/1.2, that she always takes with her and uses when the situation allows. My chat with Amy Shore has come to an end, but there’s one last thing I want to say to our readers. If you are at a motor event, and you see a girl with a big, genuine smile and round Harry Potter-style glasses taking photos with her beloved Nikons, do me a favour. Don't ask what the hell a woman is doing among all those cars, because in all probability she has a lot to teach you, thanks to her unique way of looking at life as it passes us by and of turning it into pictures. Some people are born for a very specific job. This is one of them. This is the story of Amy the photographer. -- Francesca Rabitti has been looking for stories to read and write since her childhood and today they are still a really important part of her life and work. She writes short stories and some of them have been awarded at International Literary Awards. She's a National Geographic Italia contributor, too: she likes travelling and translating into words her emotions and anecdotes people from all around the world confess to her. That’s what she does for Speedholics: sharing the passion of people, that goes beyond everything and lasts forever.

A car says a lot about its era, and the German photographer Jens Ochlich knows this very well. Armed with his camera, he hunts out American "golden oldies” along the US West Coast: the result is highly poetic images that breach the boundaries of time Words by Francesca Rabitti Photography by Jens Ochlich (IG: @jens_ochlich) Whenever I look at one of Jens’ photos, I expect to see film stars turning up out of the blue - and chatting to him I found out that this was exactly the reaction he was aiming for. The photo comes to life, the frame pans slightly out and we get a glimpse of the director and the actors getting ready to make an entrance: every shot hides a different screenplay, leading spectators to wonder what will happen next. Will it be a love story, or a thriller? Class of 1970, born in West Germany, Jens Ochlich moved to California around twenty years ago. He confessed that he works alone, with no assistant, and spends a lot of time sitting and waiting for the right moment to take a photo. To my great surprise, I discover that his photos are almost always the result of sitting patiently, because nothing is constructed: there is no set, as many might imagine when looking at the moments he is able to capture. Like many Europeans, he is fascinated by the potential of the American landscape, particularly those desert towns that so easily blend into the surrounding wilderness, and the sunlight, which gives the shots their unique shade and texture. All in all, for him California is a continuously evolving natural backdrop that allows him to explore the America that made him dream when he saw in on TV as a child. Looking at his works, I ask him how he gives his photos that vintage aura typical not only of the 1970s but also the ‘50s and ‘60s. He tells me that he uses what for him is a winning combination: a digital camera with vintage lenses dating back to those times. The effect is surprisingly cinematographic and ‘retro’. Jens has always been fascinated with mid-20th century design and architecture, because for him they are a perfect example of freedom, just as all the cars from that era are the expression of post-war optimism: indeed, any car will tell us a lot about the period it was built in. When hunting for that perfect photo, Palm Springs is his ideal destination, as it is able to blend cars - especially muscle cars, another of Jens’ passions - and period landscapes in a single photo. His website is called Autobahn66, and he explains that the nickname comes from the song of the same name by the British band Primal Scream, and is the perfect match of his German origins and the US Route 66. Today Autobahn66 has become his trade mark, even though he uses his real name more and more often in order to avoid any confusion. How did Jens Ochlich become a photographer? By studying 1950s architecture photography books, on Julius Shulman, Stephen Shore, Joel Meyerowitz, Ernst Haas, Saul Leiter and Slim Aarons; or the films that went on to become classics, like Vertigo and Double Indemnity. A passion for nice photos is not enough, you have to study, research constantly, in order to improve and develop your own unmistakeable style. I admit that I use Instagram a lot, for me it’s a never-ending gold mine, and it's the place I run to when I’m looking for photographers who have something really interesting to tell me for Speedholics. And so I had to ask Jens what he thinks about this social network, which in some ways is so controversial. He confesses that for him it is a showcase where he can come into contact with potential customers interested in his style, and thanks to Instagram he has been commissioned several works by European interior design companies. Lately however, he has noted a bit of a crisis, especially since the advent of TikTok, and I have to agree with him, even though deep down I hope that it will never lose the charm it is still known for and which offers inspiration for specialists and non-specialists alike. But what does Jens photograph when he’s not waiting for cars? The world when night falls, and this has led to another project he would like to get back to working on soon, “California nocturnal”, or “Shopping carts”, devoted to abandoned shopping trolleys. He is also fond of nature generally, with close-ups of plants and flowers, although in recent years a certain laziness has led him to pay less attention here. I am surprised to discover that he’s not a professional photographer, but it’s as if he was, if we think how much time he devotes the photography every day: it’s really true that if you love something you will always find time to devote to it. This is the story of a guy who dreamt - and conquered - California. So sit back as the lights dim, the chatter suddenly stops and in the background we can only hear the sound of popcorn being munched. The film you are about to watch is … you choose. I have decided: a turquoise house at no. 612, a few palm trees swaying in the wind in the background, and a white and red Beetle in the foreground. It must be warm, I can tell by the sky and the light, but I will only know when I see how the protagonists are dressed. Nobody knows where this story will lead me, but as any journey teaches us, we just have to set off and let ourselves be guided. What about you, have you chosen your story? -- Francesca Rabitti has been looking for stories to read and write since her childhood and today they are still a really important part of her life and work. She writes short stories and some of them have been awarded at International Literary Awards. She's a National Geographic Italia and National Geographic Traveler contributor, too: she likes travelling and translating into words her emotions and anecdotes people from all around the world confess to her. That’s what she does for Speedholics: sharing the passion of people, that goes beyond everything and lasts forever.

Considered the inventor of the “Quadrifoglio”, the cloverleaf, the Aversa-born driver’s competitive career with Alfa Romeo was short but very eventful. The 1923 season was particularly visible for him, but his career and life ended dramatically in Monza on 8 September of the same year. One century on, SpeedHolics tells of his adventures, thanks also to a precious testimonial offered by his grandson Giorgio. Photos by Giorgio Sivocci, Fabio Morlacchi and Alfa Blue Team Archives 15 April 1923, Cerda, a town in the Sicilian hinterland east of Palermo, the starting and finishing line of the “Piccolo Circuito delle Madonie”, the Targa Florio circuit in Sicily. The stands set up in the village of the Sicilian Automobile Club were extended, with a new floor for the press, some covered stands and spaces for a selected audience that wanted or was able to be isolated from the others. The sports reporters were connected directly to the timekeepers’ cabin, a laboratory was available to the photographers wanting to develop their negatives, with the possibility to send packs of photos to their newspapers from the in-house post office. It was the best technology had to offer at the time. The route was tough, the mountain roads were not tarmacked and were only partially tarred. The race ran anti-clockwise: Cerda, Catavulturo, Polizzi, Collesano, Campofelice and back to Cerda. A total of 432 kilometres, divided into four 108-km stages. Two-seater cars could enter the race, and in addition to the driver they had to have a mechanic on board, and the weight of the crew must be at least 120 kg. The cars were divided into six categories based on engine size: the first up to 1100 cc, the second from 1101 to 1500 cc, the third from 1501 to 2000 cc, the fourth from 2001 to 3000 cc, the fifth from 3001 to 4500 cc, the sixth from 4501 and above. The start was at 7 in the morning, starting from the lowest category. The morning of 15 April was cool, after a bout of heavy rain that stopped the dust from being kicked up by the wheels, but there was a strong risk of nasty puddles. This is why some competitors decided to mount temporary front mudguards, perhaps only on the driver's side, but which also hid the main wheel from sight when steering. All that was exactly a century ago... Alfa Romeo races with a team of five RLSSs prepared specifically for the race. The drivers were Giuseppe Campari, chief tester and driver, Antonio Ascari, driver and Alfa Romeo dealer for Milan and part of Lombardy, Ugo Sivocci and Count Giulio Masetti, all official team drivers along with Enzo Ferrari, racing as a private driver, despite being a regular presence at Portello. Both Masetti and Ferrari were racing with their own RLSS TFs. All the RLs had a 3-litre engine, apart from Sivocci and Ferrari, which had the cylinder capacity increased from 76 to 78 mm, despite the 110 mm stroke, which took the engine capacity to just under 3.2 litres and the power output from 88 hp at 3600 rpm to 95 hp at 3800 rpm. Campari raced with RL no. 8 and a new lucky symbol, a green cloverleaf on a white round background, located on the sides of the radiator casing, Ascari had RL no. 10 with the green cloverleaf on a white triangle in the same position as Campari, Masetti had the same symbols as Campari on car no. 11 but placed behind the engine compartment. None of the three had front mud guards, and they all raced in the 4thcategory. Sivocci raced with RL no. 13, a 3.2 litre model in the 5th category, with the lucky cloverleaf symbol on a square background rotated 45°, placed on the sides of the radiator casing, and mounted two front mudguards. Ferrari raced with its own 3.2 litre RL, race no. 14, but without the cloverleaf. So, 100 years of the “cloverleaf”. It seems that the idea of using the cloverleaf as a lucky symbol came from Ugo Sivocci, racing in the 1923 Targa Florio in RL no. 13, demonstrating that, at least apparently, he believed in some form of superstitious symbolism. A few months later, number 17 was no longer to bring him luck. The differences between the white background and the positioning should have been a choice to ensure the immediate recognition of the Milan cars in the race, all the same, without having to remember the race number and the correspondence with the driver. Despite the constant rain before the start, huge crowds formed at the interesting points or those most easily reachable along the route, also taken there by special trains or boats. Targa Florio began in 1906, an internationally renowned competition despite the fact that it was held in the distant and far from easy-to-reach Sicily. The newspapers spoke of a strange character in the area, who stated that each of the 19 competitors were more than able to win the race, thus excluding only the non-starters. At 7 in the morning, luckily the sun was shining. The starter was the Prince of Petrulla. The cars were lined up waiting for the start. The first competitor didn’t turn up, so the first to start was no. 2 in the Bugatti, followed by the other competitors in the lower categories. Finally, it was the turn of the RLs. Campari set off with the mechanic Fugazza, then Alfieri Maserati in the Diatto 20S with the mechanic Parenti, Ascari with Sozzi in the RLSS, Masetti with Marinoni in another RLSS, then another competitor. In the fifth category, Sivocci started with the mechanic Guatta, then Ferrari and Ramponi in the other 3.2 litre RLSS, Gastone Brilli Peri with Lumini in the Steyr and other competitors. In total, there were 17 competitors in the race out of the 19 registered. Bodendik started in Chenard & Walcker number 12, and immediately after the RLSS number 13 with Sivocci was pushed onto the starting line. A few last words with the mechanic Guatta, sitting on his left. It is worth remembering that in Italy, until the introduction of the highway code, which was amended in 1927, cars drove on the left-hand side, so the driving seat was usually on the right. The mechanics inserted the electric starter in the crank hole, slotted into the engine shaft. A signal, Sivocci delayed the ignition start, turned the Bosch contact switch on the round panel to the right of the steering wheel. The starter triggered the engine, which immediately came to life. Advance in the normal position, engine at 1500 rpm, another couple of minutes until they set off. And they're off, the dry multi-disc clutch engages sharply, 2500, 3000, 4000 rpm, quick double de-clutching, and here you are in second gear. And, please, don't forget the gearbox is unsynchronised. The RL engine coped well with a moderate overspeed thanks to its strength, and the helicoidal springs on the valve control rods help the rapid closure. The first check is at the hill, 2 kilometres after the starting line, where the Steyrs are 12” ahead of the Alfas, the second check is at Catalvuturo, the 32nd kilometre. Brilli Peri passed with 30', Campari and Maserati with 21'. Brilli Peri had to stop immediately. On the first lap, Hermann Rutzler went wild in the Steyr ahead of the crowd, 1.45'19”, followed by Campari, Maserati, Sivocci at 1.48'35”. Sivocci, a man of few words, had a precise driving style, respectful of the mechanics, not particularly spectacular, cold and always correct, yet extremely efficient. It always seemed like he was out for a quiet drive, yet almost having fun on the inside. He didn’t stop to refuel, while Ascari, who drove angrily, moved into eighth position. Ferrari was sixth after the first lap, but just after passing the line he went off the road and had to retire. On the second lap, Ascari put his foot down and caught up with Rutzler, who had to retire on the next lap after a stone punched a hole in the engine casing. Sivocci was first on the third lap, with a time of 5.29'48”, followed by Ferdinando Minoia and Ascari with 5.30'35”. Ascari went into first place in the fourth lap, and from the stands you could see the dusty red RLSS approaching in the distance, on its way to win the race. Suddenly, Ascari slowed down and stopped, and the engine died. The crowd in the stands saw the driver and his mechanic get out of the Alfa, open the semi bonnet and fiddle with the engine. Only later they would find out that there had been problems with the magnet. Other mechanics ran from the Alfa Romeo bays, but the RLSS engine fired up again and, without the bonnet, with four people hanging on the car, all in all a very tragicomic scene. But that wasn’t allowed, the cars could only have two people on board! Ascari decided to return to the point where he had stopped, and not finding his mechanic nearby he took a spectator by the arm, threw him into the left-hand seat and set off in reverse to return towards the finishing line. But in the meantime, Sivocci had passed him and won. Ascari had lost around 10 minutes, coming in second, with Minoia in third place. The Steyr mechanics were spread out along the last kilometre to cheer on their driver, who managed to overtake Masetti in his RLSS. Three Alfa Romeos and four Italian drivers in the top places. Ascari drove impetuously and really fast, but luck turned its back on him. Just before the completing the first lap, a rear tyre exploded on a tight bend, although he managed to hold the road, change the tyre quickly and get back on the track. Then, just a few metres from the finishing line, the magnet, then the risk of being disqualified... for having too many passengers on board. Sivocci won in 7 hours and 18 minutes, while it took Ascari only 2' and 52” more, despite all his troubles. More than seven hours of bends, practically one after the other, climbs and descents with few straight or flat stretches, in cars with rigid axles and leaf-spring suspensions, equipped only with rear brakes, driven constantly with controlled skids on earth and mud. Definitely heroic times. This was the first appearance of the lucky cloverleaf, which since then has become a kind of trade mark for the racing Alfa Romeos. Alfa Romeo and its drivers took part in several races in 1923, ahead of the Italian Grand Prix and the European Grand Prix, held in September in the new Monza circuit, the “motodromo” as it was called at the time. Saturday 8 September, during an extra test drive, at 10 in the morning Sivocci and the mechanic Guatta were driving the new Gran Premio Alfa Romeo P1. After several laps, they reached the underpass at the elevated curve following the Serraglio curve, followed by a short straight and the broad Vialone curve to the left leading into the long east straight. The P1 skidded, went off the track and ended up with the left side against a tree, standing just a few metres from the tarmac. The driver and his mechanic were thrown out of the passenger compartment. Enzo Ferrari was in the pits along the parallel straight, and ran over to where his friend Sivocci had crashed. Guatta was injured but alive, but nothing more could be done for Ugo Sivocci. Ferrari lovingly placed his lifeless body in an ambulance and he was taken away. Alfa Romeo retired from the race as a sign of mourning, but evil tongues whispered that perhaps the choice was also made because of the mediocre performance and poor road holding of the GPR P1. Shortly afterwards, work began on Vittorio Jano's completely new GP car, the P2 (but that’s another story...). The accident occurred in the same spot on the track where, 32 years later, in 1955, Antonio Ascari’s son Alberto died, on the same day his father died in Monthlery. Ugo Sivocci had just turned 38, he was born in Aversa, in the province of Caserta, on 29 August 1885. His father Giuseppe, a piano teacher and conductor often travelled for work, with his wife Maria Clerice. He began his test-driving career in 1906 in the Turin-Sestriere race in an O.T.A.V., a Milan-based car and bicycle manufacturer. In 1911 he was hired by De Vecchi in Milan, where he met Antonio Ascari. He took part in the 1913 and 1914 Targa Florios in De Vecchi cars. After WWI De Vecchi was taken over by C.M.N. in Milan, and Sivocci continued to race for them. Right after the war he met Enzo Ferrari, who had come to Milan from Turin looking for a chance to advance his still-precarious career as a racing driver. They were hard times, but the friendship and support of Ugo and his family, who lived in Milan in Piazzale Rottole, today Piazza Durante, helped him through it. They would meet in a bar in the centre, the Vittorio Emanuele in Via Orefici, not far from Piazza Duomo and the place where the A.L.F.A. deed of incorporation had been signed a few years earlier in 1910. Ugo helped Enzo join C.M.N., racing the Parma-Poggio di Berceto for them in 1919. The two drivers took part together in the next 10th Targa Florio, driving the racing C.M.N. they were to use in the competition from Milan to Sicily. They took turns at the wheel, often not stopping even at night, and in Abruzzo they were even attacked by a pack of wolves, chased off by Ferrari’s pistol. When they reached Sicily, the episode told by reporters became a legend. In 1920 they were with Alfa Romeo, Sivocci after Ferrari due to a major death in the family. At Portello they made up the first team of Alfa Romeo drivers, Antonio Ascari, Giuseppe Campari, Enzo Ferrari and Ugo Sivocci. The 4 Musketeers, as named by the great journalist, photographer and writer Orio Vergani. Three years of racing, then the 1923 Targa Florio... -- RICCARDO SIVOCCI - Riccardo was 13 years old when his father Ugo died, and he had just lost his younger brother, who died in 1920 aged 8. After his studies he was taken on in the Racing Department at Alfa Romeo. He became a mechanic for some great drivers, including Nino Farina, he was at the 1938 Le Mans supporting Raymond Sommer and Clemente Biondetti’s 8C 2900 B Touring. He took part in the first sporting expeditions in South America, where he met Fangio, who would remain his friend even after the end of their sporting careers. He met Tazio Nuvolari, Nello Pagani, Prince Bira, John Behera, Carlo Pintacuda, Jean Pierre Wimille, Onofre Marimon and others. In the Formula Junior, he worked for Lorenzo Bandini and Geki Russo. And, as we heard when talking about Consalvo Sanesi, he also worked with the famous driver and tester from Milan. Having his own Alfa Romeo tuned by Sivocci, in Sanesi's workshop... Riccardo Sivocci’s son Giorgio told me that as a child, returning home to the flat above the workshop, he met Sanesi who, setting off to test a Duetto, asked him if he wanted to take a ride. Giorgio still remembers that experience very well... -- ALFA ROMEO RL - The RL represents both the high point and the swan song of Giuseppe Merosi at Portello, the first Alfa Romeo designer who worked there from 1910 to 1925. Within the production cars, the RL came after the 1910 24 HP and its evolution, the 20-30 ES, the smaller 1911 12 HPs with the evolutions 15 HP and 15-20 HP, the large 1913 40-60 HP and the 1919 G1. The RL is considered Merosi’s masterpiece, it was presented in October 1921 in the company’s executive offices in Via Paleocapa in Milan, a stone's throw from the west corner of Sforzesco Castle, where the Strada del Portello headed towards Gallarate. It was designed with a 3-litre engine, with an international sporting future in mind, meeting to new formula specifications with a class up to 3 litres. The straight-6 engine had a cast iron cylinder block with a removable cast iron head, the first engine built by Alfa with these characteristics. A separate aluminium crankcase, four main bearings, overhead valves aligned with the piston, valvetrain with camshaft in the crankcase, pushrods and rocker arms. The internal bore and stroke of the piston was 75 x 110 mm, ensuring the original engine capacity of 2,916 cc. With the 1925 6a series, the bore was increased definitively to 76 mm, again with a 110 mm stroke, and an engine capacity of 2,994 cc. The suspensions had rigid axles and semi-elliptical leaf springs, with drum brakes only on the rear wheels, later also on the front wheels, from autumn 1923. The RL came in three versions: Normale, RLS (Sport) and RLSS (Super Sport), with power output from 56 to 83 HP. Production ran from 1921 to 1927, then ending the so-called “Jano Era”, exactly when the production of the more modern, lighter and easy-to-handle 6C 1500 began. The RL was also used as the basis for the cheaper 4-cylinder RM, with a modern concept of modularity, using many parts from the larger 6-cylinder RL, in order to exploit the machine tools used to produce the mechanical parts to the full. Production began for the sports versions RLS and RLSS respectively at the start and end of 1922, with a wheelbase shortened from 3.44 to 3.14 metres, a larger engine with due vertical monobloc carburettors instead of one. The RLS made its racing début at the 1922 Targa Florio, driven by Augusto Tarabusi. The RLS and RLSS prototypes were also tested and raced by Ugo Sivocci. With a view to taking part in the 1923 Targa Florio, the RLSS was fine-tuned and improved even more, the wheelbase reduced again to 2.88 metres to improve its handling and further reduce its weight. The bodywork was significantly lightened and made more aerodynamic, with a radiator casing and quite prominent tapering when seen from above. 5 cars were built, called the RLSS TF (Targa Florio), 3 with 3-litre engines and 2 with 3.2-litre engines, the latter for racing in the 3001 to 4500 cc class. For the 1924 Targa Florio, the model was changed again, the bodywork given a more solid but lower appearance with the classic sharp-edged radiator, already seen on the Steyrs and Mercedes of the time. The engine crankcase had seven main bearings, drastically improving the balance of the cranks in the crankshaft. Again with two engine capacities, the usual 3 litres and a new 3.6-litre version, obtained by increasing the bore to 80 mm and the stroke to 120 mm. This advanced engine had already been installed from the summer of 1923 on the RLSS TFs racing after the Targa Florio. Anyone who has heard its engine revving will confirm that the RLSS had a low, full and slightly rough and thrilling sound, with the typical firing sequence of straight-6 engines. It sang as it approached overspeed seemingly effortlessly, giving the impression that the engine can up the revs infinitely, a characteristic sensation caused by almost all Alfa engines. The two models in the Alfa Museum in Arese are reconstructions built in the mid-60s directly at Portello, starting from modified normal chassis, recovered engines and rebuilt bodywork, using some workers who built them in the 1920s and original drawings found in the archives. -- ALFA ROMEO G.P.R. (P1) - The first car designed specifically for Grand Prix racing, after the short-lived 1914 Grand Prix with just one prototype, the G.P.R., acronym of Gran Premio Romeo, was built at the express will of the engineer Nicola Romeo. With the arrival of Jano’s next GP car in 1924, the P2, the G.P.R. was renamed the P1. A new 2-litre engine capacity category was introduced at the European GP in Monza in September 1923. Merosi got to work, and in just a few months the new racing car was born. Three were built. Straight-6 engine, two overhead camshafts, two valves per cylinder, dual ignition, seven main bearings. Steel twin block covered in metal sheet with integral head, naturally aspirated with two vertical monobloc carburettors. Suspensions with rigid axles and semi-elliptical leaf springs, drum brakes on the four wheels. Bore x stroke 65 x 100 mm, not particularly exciting for a GP car, 95 HP at 5000 rpm. After Ugo Sivocci’s death during the European G.P. test runs in Monza, the 2 remaining G.P.R.s were withdrawn. In early 1924, the engine of one of the two cars was fitted with a Roots-type supercharger built by Alfa Romeo. One of the technical drawings of this modification is dated 29 December 1923 and shows the compressor placed at the front of the engine block. This is one of the first designs by Vittorio Jano, who joined Alfa in the autumn, as Merosi had no experience of superchargers, while Jano, coming from the excellent FIAT racing department, did. The engine had a single aspirated carburettor mounted on the compressor body, and produced 115 HP at 5000 rpm. Tested briefly, the supercharged G.P.R. was not deemed satisfactory, with poor power output and, perhaps, rumour had it, also for the aspirated version in which Sivocci died, a rather perilous and unstable road performance. -- FOUR- AND THREE-LEAF CLOVERS - On a famous website focusing on the Targa Florio, you will find some rather poor-quality photos, probably taken from magazines of the period, with captions that describe how they portray Tarabusi’s RLS no. 28 during the 1922 Targa, with a cloverleaf on a white triangle clearly seen on the front sides near the bonnet, which allows us the imagine that the symbol was already in use in 1922. However, the car in the photos seems too low and streamlined to be one of the first RLSs, and is in fact probably a 1924 RLSS TF. In the 1922 Targa Florio, Augusto Tarabusi raced with the mechanic Guatta in the RLS and did have race no. 28. But from the official photo, of excellent quality, it is clear that this is a different car, and does not have the cloverleaf symbol. It is the racing début of the RL Sport. Tarabusi was stopped by a stone he hit coming out of a curve that bent the front axle. For the record, the RLSS TF no. 28 in the photos appearing on the website is in fact Amedeo Sillitti’s car, which competed in the 1926 Targa. The error is made worse by Giulio Schmidt who, in his book “The Roaring Races: The True Story of Enzo Ferrari Race Car Driver”, places the cloverleaf on car no. 35, driven by Ascari in the 1922 Targa Florio. On that occasion, Ascari raced in a 20-30 ES Sport, and as we can clearly see in several photographs, the cloverleaf does not appear on the car. A cloverleaf on a white triangle can be seen on the bonnet of the 20-30 ES Sport driven by Count Franco Caiselli from Udine, with the mechanic Attilio Marinoni. There are two photos of the car, one in a static pose and the other while racing, indicated in the captions as during the 1921 Targa, but there is no record of the car or the driver entering the competition. We can see what seems to be race no. 10 or 18, but unfortunately not clearly because of the reflections off the mirror-polished bonnet. There are no mudguards mounted, and this is a two-seater baquet with external exhaust pipe on the side which, along with the electric headlights would rather indicate that it is the Sport version of the 20-30 ES. Count Franco Caiselli raced privately in a standard 20-30 ES in 1921 and '22, and always appears in the following races without the cloverleaf symbol: 1921 Italian GP, Montichiari circuit. The flying kilometre race was held on 9 September, he won in the production car category with the 20-30 ES no. 4, with an average speed of 135.849 km/h. In the next GP Gentlemen on 11 September, he ended up off the road on the Ghedi curve and retired with a damaged front axle and bent front left-hand wheel; on 11-21 August 1922, 2nd Cup of the Alps, in the 20-30 ES no. 25 he came first in the under 4500 cc category and seventh overall. The car had mudguards and carbide headlights, and therefore seems to be a standard 20-30 ES. The photo thus appears to show the 20-30 ES Sport with the cloverleaf in late 1922 or 1923, even though it is unlikely that the cloverleaf made an appearance prior to the 1923 Targa Florio. On the other hand, a green three-leaf clover, rather than a four-leaf clover, can be seen on a white background on several occasions, on the bonnet of the winning P2s, during the GP seasons in 1924 and 1925, bringing good luck to a car that was in any case almost unbeatable. Winning its début race in 1924 with Antonio Ascari and the cloverleaf on the bonnet, the P2 won the first GP World Championship in 1925 with Count Gastone Brilli Peri. The three-leaf clover painted on the bonnet was however not lucky for Ascari in Monthlery, during the 1925 French GP, where due to causes that are still not clear today he ran off the road on the 22nd lap and died. Not always, but the cloverleaf was used throughout the 1920s on racing cars and at least once definitely during the Mille Miglia race on a private 6C 1500 S Zagato in 1930. From 1932 to 1937, when the Alfa Romeo racing department was managed by Ferrari, it was not used officially, and neither from 1938 to 1940 by Alfa Corse. It can be seen again after WWII on 158 and 159 racing cars, the famous “Alfette” that won the first two F1 World Championships, and is still used today. From the 1980s it was also used in green or gold, to identify sports or luxury versions of Alfa Romeo production cars. -- Fabio Morlacchi was born in Milan in 1960, and studied architecture and advertising graphics. In 1983, he started working for an advertising agency, on the launch of the Alfa 33. A car fanatic from a young age, Alfa Romeo was a passion at home too, as both his parents worked there: his father was a designer and his mother worked in Sales. His love of planes came from his paternal grandfather, who was a bomber pilot and officer of the Regia Aeronautica (Italian Royal Air Force) from 1918 to 1943. He is a member of the Alfa Blue Team, historian, speaker and writer on car history, particularly that of Alfa Romeo, as well as the history of Italian aviation.

She was called the “Tipo B”, but Tazio Nuvolari's extraordinary win at her Monza début in 1932 immediately set things straight: from now on, she was the car to beat. And that’s how, following the successes of the previous P2, for everyone she became the “P3”. The German company CMC reproduced a 1:18 scale model, which is a masterpiece Photos by SpeedHolics Fans may have an authentic feeling of reverence towards certain types of car. Today’s museum pieces that conceal authentic heroic deeds behind the patina of time. There is no other way to define the feats of those drivers, designers and engineers behind the most pioneering period of auto racing and motorsports. And it is not by chance that the first drivers were known as the “Knights of Risk”. A similar kind of feeling can also be aroused when looking at a model car. It doesn't matter if it’s eighteen times smaller than the real one, or if its wheels have never touched the ground at a real circuit. Even a reproduction can thrill. And this is what happened for us with the 1/18 scale model of the Alfa Romeo P3 that the German company CMC recently added to its catalogue. An item with all the consistency needed to deserve the attention of the most discerning collector. Shaping it are 1805 individual pieces which, following an unprecedented design and production, even for a company of the calibre of CMC, are almost all made from high-quality metal. No one can deny that this reproduction can be defined as complete, 360 degrees: above and below, inside and out, even where it is hard for the eye to reach, the quality of the details remains perfect from every point of view. The same can be said for all the parts that are unveiled as you lift the bonnets and remove the bodywork panels, obviously starting from the supercharged straight-8 engine divided into two blocks. The bonnet itself is a miniature engineering masterpiece, with stainless steel hinges and hooks that reproduce the same movement and the same locking system as the actual car. As usual, to make things easier, CMC has included a pair of tweezers with curved tips in the package. In turn, the engine block is held together with 85 microscopic steel screws. And of course, all assembled by hand, as the original car was. Designed by Vittorio Jano, the Alfa Romeo P3 made its début on 5 June 1932 at the 10th Italian Grand Prix in Monza, with two cars driven by Tazio Nuvolari and Giuseppe Campari. Nuvolari won by one lap and two-and-a-half minutes ahead of the second place; Campari finished in fourth place. The name of the car was actually “Tipo B” but right from the start it was clear that the new car would have replicated the successes of the previous P2, and this is why it was nicknamed the P3. This brought it luck: the P3 immediately made her name as the car to beat, and remained that way for all her competitive life. In 1932, Tazio Nuvolari won the European Grand Prix series, Alfa Romeo the Manufacturer's title and, in 1933, the P3 won six of the eleven races fought. Jano introduced many innovations on this car, and the CMC engineers found themselves having to “re-design” these in scale. First of all, the transmission: the rear wheels are driven by two separate diagonal shafts. This solution allowed the driver’s seat to be positioned lower, thus lowering the centre of gravity of the whole car. The scale reconstruction of the elliptical leaf spring suspensions and the friction dampers is another minor work of art. Even the four drum brakes, clearly visible through the wire wheels (the front ones steering) are faithfully reproduced. The attention to detail continues in the front of the model, with the steel brake linkages: the functioning mechanism can be fully appreciated by removing the lower panels (you will also find a screwdriver to remove the tiny screws in the package). The model shown in this article (ref. M-219) reproduces car number 8, driven by Tazio Nuvolari on her début, when she won the Monza race in 1932. The engine corresponds to the first configuration, the version with 2654 cm3 and 215 HP. For the record, during her career the P3’s engine capacity was increased to 3822 cm3 and the power to 265 HP. The CMC catalogue includes around a dozen different versions linked to drivers of the calibre of Rudolf Caracciola, Luigi Fagioli and Luis Chiron, as well as a limited set of 300 pieces devoted to Tazio Nuvolari, consisting of a small figure and the three cars in which he won the French GP, the Coppa Ciano and the Coppa Acerbo in 1932. There is also a “cut-off” version which allows us to admire all the genius and finesse of both Vittorio Jano’s work and that of the CMC designers. Yet more proof of the value of a model car that pays uncompromising homage to a car considered to be one of the best pre-war competition cars, and for this reason a monument to the history of international auto racing.

The result of an intimate and personal research, Giorgetto Giugiaro created an unconventional design that defied the rules of the time. And in fact, when it was unveiled at the Geneva Motor Show in 2002, the result was breath-taking. Twenty years on, SpeedHolics tells the story through an exclusive interview with its creator. Still Life Photography by Paolo Carlini (IG: @paolo.carlini.photographer) Black & White Photography by Alessandro Barteletti (IG: @alessandrobarteletti) Video by Andrea Ruggeri (IG: @andrearuggeri.it) With the collaboration of GFG Style, Italdesign, 939Privilege.club Giorgetto Giugiaro’s hand caresses the side, lightly touching the lines and following the shapes, moving confidently around the form of one of the most extraordinary automotive sculptures made in modern times. He suggests a very precise perspective, around three quarters along the back left-hand side. “Come here. Can you see that? It’s the only line that starts at the front and finishes at the back. It turns here and fades out in the centre of the rear window.” Then, looking at the front bumper: “This edge should have been sharper. It doesn’t stand out much like this.” And then at the front: “There’s no cut here, otherwise we would have had to put a joint there, and another one there…”. Giugiaro's thoughts and words travel at the speed of light as he gives me a tour of the Alfa Romeo Brera Concept: pure sculpture, and exactly twenty years after it was presented at the Geneva Motor Show in March 2002, we are standing in front of the only one ever built. We are in Moncalieri, just outside Turin, at the GFG Style, the company founded in 2015 with his son Fabrizio. This is the home to some of the cars designed in over sixty years in the business: scale models, mass produced cars and prototypes tell of the story and genius of this man, class of 1938, who boasts seven honorary degrees, five Compasso d’Oro prizes - the one in 2004 thanks to the Brera - and is universally recognised as Car Designer of the Century. click to watch the video Every contour of the Concept shows how, in the early 2000s, Giugiaro performed a small but great miracle. He ignored all the sterile rules of marketing, went beyond the laws of the market and withdrew into an intimate, personal research. And in that place of the soul, he found the inspiration to shape the silhouette of a work that is as contemporary as it is classic, and this is why I prepare for the interview, not a discussion of technical and style solutions but a chance to listen to his way of feeling and seeing things. “I would call the Brera Concept the result of a purely egoistic process, because at the ripe old age of sixty-four, I wanted to create something personal, something that would please myself. And what came out was a declaration of love for the brand I owe everything to: Alfa Romeo.” The Brera lines are original, seen for the first time, but somehow when you look at them you know that you are certainly looking at an authentic Alfa Romeo. “These is no specific formula, some things are like you, they come from your past and your experience. In these cases, inspiration is a kind of magic, being able to propose the simple lines that mark the physiognomy of a brand in a new way.” And as we know, Giugiaro is the designer who more than anyone personally contributed to defining the style and stylistic features of the Alfa Romeo in modern times. He didn't have to study the past to interpret the future, because that past was a part of him, he was its author and creator. Mentioning this to him triggers a chain reaction of anecdotes that take his mind back to the late Fifties. The start of his career. “I was just a kid, twenty years old, I worked for Fiat but I had attended an illustration course and that was where I wanted to go. One day, at the Turin Motor Show, a friend introduced me to Bertone, who, finding out what I did, told me to take him some of my works. So I went, and he gave me the drawing of the Alfa Romeo 2600 chassis and asked me to study something around it. I did a few sketches and he took a week to assess them. I was nervous, because I wanted to buy a new pair of skis and I hoped that the drawings could earn me some cash. In fact, he contacted me just three or four days later: ‘The drawings are fine, Alfa Romeo will make this car,' he told me”. The young Giorgetto hadn’t realised that Bertone would really have taken them into consideration, even showing them in Milan. “I was in seventh heaven, but at the same time I didn’t know what to do about my job at Fiat. Bertone asked me how much I earned, and I told him that my salary was 80,000 Lire a month. He offered me 120,000. I handed in my notice on the spot and Bertone hired me even though I had to leave shortly for military service. And that’s how the Alfa Romeo 2600 Sprint and my story with Alfa Romeo began.” Following on from this came the Giulia Sprint GT, prototypes like the Canguro and - with Italdesign - the Iguana and the Caimano, production cars including the Alfasud, Alfetta GT and Alfasud Sprint, up to the restyling of the 156, the Brera and the 159. “The advantage of an Alfa is that its badge is both particular and identifying: that’s all it takes to recognise one instantly. Yet at the same time it is traditionally a sporting vehicle with top-notch mechanics, and so designing its outer shell is always a huge responsibility. The far-from-easy mission is to be able to transfer all the interior substance to the exterior. The bodywork has to describe what is under the bonnet.” And this is why Giugiaro chose such top pedigree mechanics for his Brera. “I wanted it to be a step above what had been seen until that time, so I worked on a platform that could mount a longitudinally positioned V8 engine.” Lifting the bonnet in carbon fibre, the material used for the rest of the car too, we discover a four-litre Maserati engine capable of providing maximum 400 horsepower. The red intake manifold and the sophisticated design of the engine compartment make the eight-cylinder engine look like a beating heart, nestling among what seems to be a constellation of precious stones. In fact, these are refined milled aluminium caps through which the fluids are topped up. The front-centre position of the engine, further back and positioned inside the axle, gave the designer full freedom in the design and proportions of the front, which for the first time - and perhaps involuntarily - showed that family feeling of the mass-produced Alfa Romeos from 2005 onwards. “Talking about the front headlights, I decided to include the three lights in what seems a slit in the bodywork. My aim was that, moving around to the side, the headlights disappeared from view and the slits seemed like air intakes. Yet another way of highlighting that sporty aggressive feeling the car has to give.” And then the doors, with their monumental dimensions, that open upwards: a solution as spectacular as it is practical. “Imagine having to open them in the traditional manner, in a tight parking space it would be impossible to get out of the car.” Contrary to what many might think, Giugiaro’s approach to a new project is always very pragmatic. “Above all today, young people start from a sketch, but how can you design a car like that? You have to start from reality, this is why I never get carried away by my visions, I prefer to define all the limits set by the project first: I have never wanted to mislead my clients with something that is unachievable. For me, you start with the maths. I’m talking overall dimensions, driveability, how far the engine protrudes, how the wheels jolt. First of all, I fix these points, and only once I have joined all the dots creativity comes into play.” Giugiaro has often defined himself a connoisseur of detail and balances, and the Brera certainly didn't betray this vocation. “This is an exercise that starts way back. Like an athlete training every day, the designer repeats an idea, a concept, an intuition, and improves its performance every time. This is how you achieve the sensitivity to the equilibrium of shape and the proportion of volumes. The Brera was born at a time when things had to be simple, because cars are like certain songs: when they’re too complicated, you just can't get into them. Other simpler songs hit you the first time you hear them.” And that is precisely what the Concept did: acclaimed by the critics and press alike at the 2002 Geneva Motor Show, its presence made it an instant classic. And indeed, shortly afterwards, Alfa Romeo found itself having to translate it into a production car, and in 2005 the Brera was on the manufacturer's price list. A long and tough road, which in the Biscione tradition has one precedent: the Montreal, presented as a prototype at the 1967 Expo in Canada, was so applauded that it became a production car just three years - and many compromises - later. Giugiaro recalls: “You could immediately see how the public and the experts didn’t want my work to end there, they wanted to see it develop. I was really pleased about that, but I had never thought of it as a production car. I hadn’t worried about the type-approval, the costs or the production and moulding criteria. For instance, the shape of the glass I had designed didn't allow the window to slide down into the door. Or the front, made in a single piece: if you make a prototype that’s fine, but if you have to mass produce the car it has to be split into several pieces. These are all adaptations which can be done without upturning the essence of the design. When I saw the end result, however, the story of the human face came to mind. We all have eyes, eyebrows, a nose, a mouth: they have been shaped like that for thousands of years, slightly different from one person to another, and that’s what makes us unique in a billion different combinations. But when certain proportions appear, we become beautiful, attractive, as if by magic. It’s the same with a car: it takes just a few minor differences to create, or upset, a perfect balance. And in my opinion this is what happened when the parameters and measurements of the prototype were changed to mass produce the Brera.” In Alfa Romeo and Giugiaro’s past, there are cars with the most improbable names. Female names, names inspired by the animal kingdom, or those that taken straight from the design number. But Brera has nothing to do with all this. “Brera is an area in Milan, so it pays homage to Alfa Romeo, which was born there, but it is particularly a district that, in the collective imagination, brings to mind a concept of art, sophistication and culture. I think that overall a car is something extremely fascinating: it’s a joy to see its mechanics, or what sheet metal solutions were adopted, as if it was a sculpture.” Giugiaro pauses for a moment, and looks towards the room where all his cars are kept. “I must admit: I like to think that a car, the result of human creativity and talent, can be considered a work of art.”

Racing driver, test driver and actor to boot: all the lives of the man who, despite being courted by Enzo Ferrari, remained true to Alfa Romeo right to the end. Photos by Sanesi Family, Alfa Blue Team, Fabio Morlacchi Archives There were a number of significant episodes in Sanesi’s life, including the terrible accident during the 1948 Mille Miglia. He was racing with his trusted mechanic Augusto Zanardi in the experimental 6C 2500 Competizione. But let’s see what Consalvo had to say: “We set off smoothly from Brescia, without any hassle for at least the first 500 kilometres. I got the engine speed up to 5,500 rpm, but Zanardi kicked me and forced me to take my foot off the accelerator. We were chatting and joking quite peacefully, and when we got to the first refuelling point in Rimini, they told us we were a close second, behind Nuvolari. We hit the road again, our enthusiasm high, just a few seconds behind Nuvolari. Unluckily his car (Ferrari 166, ed.) was having some trouble with the suspensions, and that slowed him down a bit. Setting off again, Zanardi kicked me again, at 4,800 rpm this time. I obeyed, laughing at his jokes; it was a real pleasure racing in his company. But the good mood didn’t last much longer, as there was a pitfall ahead of us. As we approached Santa Marinella (a seaside resort in Civitavecchia, near Rome, ed.) I could feel that the steering response was a bit slow, and to keep up the good mood Zanardi, sensing some problems, joked 'te dormet' (“you’re sleeping”, in Milanese dialect, ed.). Unfortunately, I was perfectly aware there was a steering problem, and I stopped laughing and began to worry. I slowed down at a level crossing, which led into a short straight with a right-hand bend at the end, at 120 km/h; the car pulled firmly to the left, I shifted to the right but there was no response. Zanardi shouted something I didn’t catch, but I quickly replied: 'Hold on tight, the steering’s gone!' In less than a second, the car had run off the road, flown over a ditch protected on one side by a wall and, rolling over several times, stopped upside down a few inches from the sea. By that time, I was unconscious; with the tank almost full, petrol was pouring out and was suffocating me; Zanardi shouted for help, but nobody moved, afraid that it would explode. Zanardi was a strong man, he ripped off the car door and climbed out of the car, then ran round to my side to help me, but he couldn't get me out because my foot was stuck between the brake pedal and the clutch. Finally, with a huge effort, he managed to press the clutch pedal and free me”. Sanesi and Zanardi were taken to the hospital in Civitavecchia by one of the other racers. Sanesi had a suspected fracture of the skull, though after a month of convalescence, he was back at work. When he returned, the Alfa Romeo engineer Gianpaolo Garcea explained that the central support of the steering linkage had broken, making it impossible to steer the vehicle. (An interesting fact: after this episode, Sanesi and his wife called their second daughter Marinella...). In 1951, Sanesi was set a test of fate during some trial sessions with the Alfetta 159 in Monza. Consalvo stopped in the pits for refuelling, when a jet of fuel hit the exhaust pipes and set fire, burning along the side of the main rear tank, behind the driver’s seat. Sanesi tried to jump out of the cockpit, but tripped on the bare drive shaft and fell, hitting his head. They dragged him out with his suit already in flames. He spent three months recovering in hospital. Before this accident, Sanesi even tried his hand at big-screen acting. He played himself in the film “Last Meeting”, with Alida Valli, Amedeo Nazzari, Juan Manuel Fangio, Nino Farina, Felice Bonetto, Hans Von Stuck, Luigi Fagioli and Giovanni Battista Guidotti. The film was distributed in Italy, France and West Germany. The scenes filmed in Monza and in the Alfa Romeo racing department were very interesting. Meanwhile, as chief test driver of the “Esperienze” department, he devoted his time to testing and tuning a number of Alfa Romeo cars, and often had a chance to race in them. These included the 1950 1900 sedan, the Sprint version, the military off-road vehicle AR 51 “Matta” (Reconnaissance Vehicle of 1951), tested very strictly with his friend Guido Moroni, the 1952 Disco Volante and the 1953-4 2000 Sportiva. He then went on to test various versions of the Giulietta, produced in the Sprint version from 1954 and, from 1955, in the sedan and Spider versions. In June 1955, Enzo Ferrari wrote to Sanesi asking him to race for him in the Formula 1, and perhaps also go to work at Maranello. Consalvo’s extreme honesty and decency, along with his gratitude towards Alfa Romeo, led him to talk over the matter with Alfa’s General Director, Francesco Quaroni, seeking his approval for racing for Ferrari, even though he had already decided to stay on at Portello (his wife had told him fair and square that if he went to Modena, he would be going alone!). Here is an excerpt from one of the letters Ferrari sent to Sanesi: “...well, if you freely decide to come and race for us, where you will be assured plenty of competitive action, so please remember this opportunity I am willing to offer you. Of course, my proposal is not the result of any dubious ideas, it is based solely on my desire to see Italian cars driven by Italian racers, every Sunday and in the most important international races.” Sanesi remained friends with Ferrari. Their relationship dated back to the 1930s when Alfa Romeo racing cars were managed by Ferrari, and their cordial relations continued on the race track after the war. The tests continued. First the 6-cylinder 2600, then the Giulietta SZ and the sports versions of the Giulia, the TZ and the GTA. And in the Giulia TZ, Sanesi was to use his penultimate life. But let’s go in order. For work, he would drive around 200 kilometres every day, six days a week and often on Sundays too, taking his family with him, as his daughter Edda told me. He would take a board with him in the car, to note his impressions and suggestions for the mechanics. In 1961, Sanesi won the race against the ETR 300 “Settebello” fast train from Milan to Rome. The three “Settebello” trains built by Breda in the 1950s had an electric locomotive that reached a top speed of 160 km/h. The Giulietta Spider, driven by Sanesi, did better than the train, even counting the start from Milan’s Central Station, and reaching Termini Station in the centre of Rome, and bearing in mind that the ‘Autostrada del Sole’ motorway hadn’t got as far as the Italian capital at that time. Sebring, Florida, and the 1964 “12 Hours” race. It was March 21st, and the race had two drivers for each car. Sant Ambroeus signed up four Giulia TZs for the race, two with American crews and two Italian. One was driven by Theodoli with Sanesi, the other by Bussinello with Bulgari. Curiously, the race director was Elio Zagato, who took over from Giampiero Biscaldi who was ill. The TZ driven by Theodoli was overtaken, quite badly, by a Ford Cobra coupé in the tough, early stages of the race, and to avoid knocking it the Italian driver went off the road, damaging the front of the TZ. Repaired but not perfect, the TZ had to abandon the race about half way through. Of the TZs driven by the American crews, the Dietrich-Wuestoff car was doing well, but a gearbox seal broke causing a lubricant leak, and was forced to retire. And the TZ driven by Bussinello and Bulgari was equally unlucky. After a brilliance race, during which, like David against Goliath, they overtook even 2000cc cars, even a Ferrari GTO and a Ford Cobra (I would like to think they were having trouble, or were driven badly...), a piece of metal on the track cut one of the rear brake pipes. Bulgari was forced to drive with sheer acrobatic skill to keep up a decent pace, but had to stop for repairs, and lost a lot of time. On the eleventh hour of the race, transmission troubles forced him to slow down and the Giulia TZ stopped in the pits. But Sanesi, now on foot, refused to give up. He got into the red TZ, and without forcing it he drove to the finishing line. But again, bad luck was around the corner. It was already dark, and Sanesi was driving close to the edge of the track. Driving in front of the Ferrari pit, he kept close to the wall. Gurney and Johnson’s Cobra came up behind him at full speed. Johnson, trying to read the instructions from the pit, only saw the TZ at the last minute. Trying to steer, the front right-hand side of the Cobra slammed into the tail of the Alfa Romeo on the left side. The TZ spun into the wall by the Alpine Renault pits. The collision ripped the TZ tank apart, and the car set on fire. Sanesi was thrown against the back window, his helmet knocking out the plexiglass. Still conscious, he tried to get out, but the left door was stuck and the right door against the wall. A few years later, Consalvo said that, imprisoned in the vehicle amidst the flames, he thought to himself: “this time I’m going to die...”. The spectators were terrified by the high tongues of fire, made even worse by the dark night. The race officials couldn’t put out the flames, the fire-fighting teams were on their way but they would get there too late. The Alpine Renault driver Jocko Maggiacomo saw the scene from the pits. Without thinking twice, he jumped over the wall, ran to the back of the TZ, stuck his arms into the opening in the back window and hauled Consalvo out of the flaming cockpit. Sanesi had his 7th life left, or perhaps another number, who knows how many he had. His daughter Edda, who flew to Florida to look after her father in the hospital, told that she found him in an aseptic room with his face swollen and blackened. Consalvo was 53, and after a year spent between clinics and operating theatres, decided that the time had come to stop racing. Precisely in 1964, Alfa Romeo signed a contract with NSU to design and develop the Wankel engine, which meant more test drives for Sanesi and his team. In the early 1960s, Consalvo became friends with Enrico Mattei, the Chairman of ENI (Ente Nazionale Idrocarburi) and AGIP. Mattei was well introduced to the Alfa Romeo management, and this helped Sanesi to take over a large AGIP fuel station in the north of Milan, with a workshop, where he hired a mechanic: none other than Riccardo Sivocci, son of Ugo Sivocci, the official Alfa Romeo driver and test driver in Monza in 1923. Riccardo worked at Alfa, he was Fangio’s personal mechanic, after Lorenzo Bandini’s début. The fuel station was managed by his Sanesi’s wife Vittoria, and later also by his daughter Edda. The workshop was a huge success: not only they were good at their job, but who wouldn’t want their Alfa Romeo to be serviced by Sivocci, in Sanesi’s workshop? Consalvo retired in 1976, devoting his time to another passion of his, racing bikes, and to his beloved Alfas of the past in the company Museum, which had just moved to a new building in Arese, where it still is today. One anecdote that Edda told me helps us to understand Sanesi’s honesty and professionalism even more. Before putting the 1972 Alfetta into production, as often happened, Consalvo was asked to test the new and sophisticated sedan, with its very advanced suspensions, the gearbox mounted in a block with the differential at the rear, in the middle of the De Dion tube. As all Alfa fans know, the gearbox on this albeit superb sedan made it difficult to manoeuvre, as the linkage was very long and not finely tuned. Consalvo refused to approve the car. An Alfa Romeo can't have a gearbox that engages slowly and often noisily. For Sanesi, Alfas had to be perfect to drive...