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Today, establishing how many Alfettas were made is a hard task, but we can reasonably state that five original cars got as far as us. Among these, one in particular stands out, kept at the MAUTO - Museo dell'Automobile of Turin. Still with the signs of battle of yesteryear, this car is the one that spent most time on the racing tracks. SpeedHolics “met” the car to tell its story and remember the extraordinary adventures of what was to become the “Biscione’s” first Formula 1 car. Photography by Paolo Carlini (IG: @paolo.carlini.photographer) Archive courtesy of Sanesi Family, Alfa Blue Team, Fabio Morlacchi Archives Enzo Ferrari could be described as nothing more than the inspiration behind the project for the “little GP car”, and as stated in the specialised press, seeing what was done at Maserati it would have needed a 4- or 6- cylinder engine. At Alfa Romeo, the suggestion for the new racing car was taken on board, but was based on a more sophisticated straight 8-cylinder solution for the engine and the whole layout of the car was defined, refined yet orthodox compared to what had been designed and built in the racing sector up until that time by Vittorio Jano at Portello, managed by Ferrari. A new design race began straight afterwards with the design by the Spanish engineer Wifredo Ricart at Al, more advanced yet perhaps too pointlessly complex. So, its inspiration and paternity are sure, as is the project management. The names, in order, are: Enzo Ferrari, Gioachino Colombo, the Portello engineer, and Alfa Romeo. Ferrari only played a small part, the physical place where the design was developed and the construction of the first units began. As in all complete car designs, whether for mass production or racing, the various mechanical parts were developed by a team of engineers and draughtsmen, who worked on the instructions of the designer and the manufacturer. The main data for the arrangement required by Portello were taken to Modena by the engineer Gioachino Colombo in early May 1937. Exactly one month later, Colombo and the engineer Angelo Nasi completed the design of the engine and the chassis. On 1 January 1938, the first engine began to be assembled and Colombo returned to Milan on 17 June. On 1 January 1938 the new racing department was opened in Portello, called Alfa Corse, physically located in the new sheds on the corner of Via Traiano and Viale Renato Serra. The construction of the new department began in autumn 1937. The masonry works were completed between December 1937 and January 1938. The building and shed next to Via Traiano were finished between April and May. So, when Colombo was sent to Modena, it had already been planned for all the material to return to Milan shortly afterwards. The 1924 G.P. car Tipo P2 won its first race, and in 1925 the first ever Grand Prix Championships. Tipo B, better known as the P3, also won its first race. The 158 carried on this tradition, also winning its first race, the Coppa Ciano in Livorno on 7 August 1938, with Emilio Villoresi 1st and Clemente Biondetti 2nd. In late 1939, the Spanish engineer Wifredo Pelago Ricart, who joined Alfa as an industrial engine consultant in September 1936, became technical director and was also in charge of the racing sector. In 1939 he designed a new car, which was intended to replace the 158. This was the Tipo 512, which rode the waves of success of the large and winning Auto Unions, with central-rear engine. The flat 12 engine, with 1500 cm3 displacement, was positioned just behind the driver. The 512 was tested from the summer of 1940 until 1942, but the testers were not happy with the driver's seat being so far forward. These included Consalvo Sanesi: sitting practically between the front wheels, the driver couldn’t immediately feel the significant oversteer caused by the rear axle slippage, and before he realised the car would be almost sideways. During the conflict, the sportscar material that would be interesting after the war was sent to Milan to save it from any foreseeable enemy bombings. The material included nine of the twelve 158s produced, following the destruction of one during the tests with Marinoni in June 1940 and two which were destroyed in 1939, during practice drives by Emilio Villoresi and Giordano Aldrighetti, who like Marinoni both lost their lives following the accidents. Along with the two 512s complete with all the mechanics, plus the engines and spare parts, they were taken firstly to the Mechanics Hall at the Milan Exhibition Centre, and then hidden in the pits at the Monza race track. Subsequently, almost all the material was bricked up into a large room, with just an inspection door, at the ex-Gavazzi textiles mill in Melzo, 15 kilometres to the east of Milan, where part of the decentralised production of crankshafts was located. As an elderly Alfa employee, in charge of overseeing the decentralisation of the racing material, told me years later, only the two almost complete 512s plus several spare 158 engines were taken provisionally to a farmhouse in the Abbiate area owned by the family of the driver Achille Castoldi, and were then transferred to an unlikely textiles factory in the centre of Abbiategrasso, around 18 kilometres to the south-west of Milan. According to Giuseppe Busso and what we find in the surviving documents, the two 512s were later transferred near Orta, where the engineers and a complete aviation department were located in a factory in Armeno, in the province of Novara. Particularly the bombings of October 1944 destroyed much of the Alfa departments, and only the delocalisation of the engineering staff and the material, along with the strong will of the workers, allowed the works to resume at the end of the war. Racing activities resumed timidly in 1946, when the 158s were dusted off and returned to Milan. Unaware of the 512's driving issues, the specialised press began to wonder which car Alfa Romeo would have continued to race with: the 158 or the 512? The 158, designed in the summer of 1937 and born in the spring of the following year, behaved well and had significant potential for development. Furthermore, all the cars, plus the spare engines, had been saved from destruction during the war. Gioachino Colombo, born in Legnano, joined Alfa Romeo on 7 January 1924 as a draughtsman, and went on to manage the design department. He left Alfa for the first time on 31 August 1947, to join Ferrari. He returned to Alfa on 1 February 1951, to the annoyance of Orazio Satta’s engineering team, as Director of the Car Design Department and Vice-Director of the Alfa Corse Design Team. He finally left Alfa on 31 August 1952. Colombo worked only on the first developments of the 158 in 1946 and partly in 1947. So, from the autumn of 1947 to early 1951, the 158 was developed by Orazio Satta and Giuseppe Busso’s team, assisted by engineer Gian Paolo Garcea and other Alfa technicians with aeronautical training. Today it is not easy to establish precisely how many 158s and 159s were produced. We have to base our estimates on the bills of materials delocalised during the war, the few data on the materials lists in the Alfa Museum in the 1960s, and the data provided in the meticulous race reports drafted between 1946 and 1951. It is reasonable to suppose that, between late 1937 and 1938 a first batch of four tipo 158s were built, three of which, as we have seen, were destroyed during practice session accidents between 1939 and 1940. Of these, one 158 survives in the Alfa Romeo Museum in Arese, with chassis number 158.005. The next batch of eight cars was produced between 1939 and 1940, with a different numbering, from 158.107 to 158.114. Then things began to get complicated, as in the winter of 1950-1951, several 158s were updated to 159s, reinforcing the chassis and increasing the fuel tank capacity in order to adopt more powerful, guzzling engines. In these cases, the chassis number had the prefix 159. During 1951, on the other hand, four new tipo 159s were built, with further changes to the chassis compared to the tipo 158 developed into the 159, with a De Dion rear axle. In the Alfa Romeo documents these were known as both “Fianchi Larghi” (“large hips”), and tipo 160, with the bodywork probably built by Zagato. Therefore, in the 1951 Championships there were a few 159s, which were in fact the developed 158s, still with the old rear pendulum axle and the 159 with the De Dion. The two 159s in the Museum in Arese, the 159.111 and the 159.112, are two ex-158 updated to 159s, presumably the 158.111 and 158.112, fitted with De Dion axles during the winter of 1951-52, so after the end of the 1951 Championships, just before the Alfa meeting of 15 February 1952, when the decision was taken to not race in the 1952 Championship or any others in future. On the other hand, the demonstration chassis at Arese, with no bodywork, was rebuilt with various parts found in stock with rather improbable numbering. Of the five 158-159s remaining today, excluding the chassis complete with mechanics, the most frequently raced was the 159.109, today on display in the MAUTO - Museo dell'Automobile of Turin. Following the recent renovation of the museum, the car was placed in the room where the racing cars are on show, following years of exposure to direct sunlight. The current setting is very attractive, hiding the many “wrinkles” that our Alfetta would in fact be very proud to show off. She has been in Turin for a long time, even she can’t remember for how long. But if you know how to listen to her, she has a lot to say. She remembers the practice sessions for the Grand Prix in Tripoli in 1940. .109 - “It was May, I still had my original engine, I was used as a reserve car for tests and practice runs. Nino Farina pushed the engine, a 225 HP with single-stage compressor, to 7500 rpm! I had Pirelli tyres with smooth tread, I used Ricinavio airplane engine oil, from the plane engines produced at Portello, where I was born. Farina beat one of my sisters!” Then came the war, and Italy joined less than a month after the race. A couple of races in 1946, and a few more in 1947. .109 - “I can’t remember, they were hectic times! They took us back to Milan, and after servicing it was test after test. I remember those on the runway at Malpensa military airport, with those huge uneven concrete slabs that ate up all our tyres! The Monza track was still unusable, occupied by allied military vehicles for sale and with the asphalt ruined by the air raids. Coquettishly, the Alfetta .109 continues her story... .109 - “I remember well the 1947 Milan Grand Prix, definitely! If I remember correctly, it was 7 September. Even though during the practice session just before the race I was driven by Count Trossi (Carlo Felice), I was intended for Sanesi (Consalvo), with race number 24. The others and I reached the starting line in Piazza Arduino from Portello in Via Traiano, driven by an Alfa test driver. No more than 500 metres. We really were racing just outside the front door! On the starting line, Consalvo and I had my sister .111 to our left, with Count Trossi. Next to her, in the front row, was the Ambrosiana Maserati 4 CLT driven by Gigi Villoresi. I was quite worried about this Maserati. We had 275 HP 158/46B engines with dual-stage compressor, but she must have had at least 300 HP! Four cylinders rather than our 8, but with 4 valves per cylinder! At one point I saw Count Trossi put his pipe in his pocket and put his gloves on. Here we go! But Castagneto still didn’t start the race, it was minutes and minutes of anxiety... Sorry, am I going on too much? No? Just as well! Finally we were told to switch the engines on. Consalvo turned the switch on my dashboard. I got a bit of a shock, what you humans would call adrenaline! The electric starter turned my engine, then I thought about the rest The chequered flag was lowered... The Maserati burned rubber as it set off, followed by my sister .111. Consalvo didn't hit the floor, I could feel the accelerator still had something to give! The Maserati with Villoresi was in front, followed by the .111 with Count Trossi, then us (the .109 with Sanesi) and the .110 with Achille Varzi, which set off behind us. In a flash we reached the slight left-hand bend leading into Ciale Scarampo, second gear as we braked, then first gear for the right-hand 90° bend leading into Via Colleoni, the accelerator flat out and rapid gear changes, then back on the brakes as we hit the large roundabout at Piazza Damiano Chiesa on the wrong side of the road, passing in front of the Alfa Romeo Branch on the corner of Via Emanuele Filiberto. A left turn into Viale Alcuino and back again towards the Trade Fair wall, a left bend and along the Monza stands, set up right there outside. The Vigorelli racing track ran along the left, then quite a wide right-hand bend into Viale Boezio, full acceleration with progressive gear changes and passing in front of the Palazzetto dello Sport in Piazza 6 Febbraio, where the Motor Show was held before the war. An energic brake, dropping down into first gear, a 90° right-hand bend and flat out on the accelerator along the straight in front of the Trade Fair entrance in Piazza Giulio Cesare, along Via Senofonte and Via Spinola, another quick brake, back down into first gear, another right-hand bend and into the final straight. As we passed in front of the Palazzetto dello Sport on the straight we had the .111 (Trossi) in front, which overtook Gigi Villoresi’s Maserati quite easily. The Maserati’s exhaust was in front of my nose. Was the engine already popping? Behind me was Raimond Sommer’s Maserati, then the .110 with Varzi... From the pits, which in my day were called “stalls”, they were signalling the 5th lap of the planned 100. By this time, the Maserati and Gigi were just a few metres ahead. The engine wasn’t the problem of the 4-cylinders, it was always ahead of the braking. The Maserati’s problem was the brakes! Consalvo, shall we take over while braking? Even Varzi had reached and overtaken Gigi Villoresi. Now there were Alfettas in the first three places. I was between Trossi and Varzi, behind was Berto Ascari’s Maserati, also racing just a few hundred yards from its home. Consalvo knew that he couldn’t insist, and then Varzi in the .110 was always Varzi, it was hard to stand up to the guy from Galliate driving one of my sisters. And then, the company orders must never be questioned! At Alfa Corse, before the race, the chairman of Alfa Romeo, Pasquale Gallo, talking to the drivers, gave clear orders, in his calm and courteous manner with a vague Naples accent, with Guidotti (Giovanni Battista), the company director, on his right listening and approving with nods of the head, hands on hips and shirt sleeves rolled up. On the eleventh lap, we had Varzi’s .110 right up to the exhaust. Turning into Viale Berengario, Consalvo changed into second gear, a few engine revs first, 7,200 rather than 7,400, not many people noticed. Varzi and the .110 came out from behind us and overtook. Count Trossi with the .111 had crossed the finishing line a few seconds earlier, then Varzi and Ascari’s Maserati. Berto insisted hard, for 14 laps he swapped third place with me and Consalvo. In front, Varzi and Trossi with my sisters continued to overtake each other, they were pushing hard, the fight was between two Piemontesi and two Milanesi! We could see them duelling in the distance. It seemed like they were enjoying it! From a few metres distance they looked at each other, sometimes side by side, the Alfettas were having fun! The drivers weren’t smiling, their serious faces hidden by glasses, but they were laughing inside, I knew them all too well! In the end, the two champions ahead overtook each other 16 times! Ascari’s Maserati however had some problems. Parts of the bodywork tended to come off, the tank leaked and the 4-cylinder engine coughed sometimes, forcing them to stop in the pits frequently. And so we reached the finishing line, Trossi’s .111, Varzi’s .110, me and Sanesi, and Gaboardi’s .119! Nobody noticed, but we four Alfettas were very happy! A victory parade, here, just a stone’s throw from home! Fantastic! What a race! Thanks Consalvo, sometimes I can feel you near in this dark room in the museum in Turin, I like it. Really. They told me that the Alfa race report referred to a “boring race due to the clear superiority of our cars”... noblesse! .109 – At the Berne Grand Prix on 4 July 1948 we raced with death in our engines. During the first practice sessions on 1 July, Achille Varzi took one of my sisters off the road, I can't remember which one. I won the race, driven by Count Trossi, behind me was one of my sisters with Jean Pierre Wimille, a Maserati and Sanesi with another of my sisters. The official Alfa Corse report explains the dynamics of the accident: “The accident, which occurred immediately after the Eicholz descent, was not due to sudden technical problems, Sanesi having previously completed three laps of the circuit, but to the unlucky track conditions. After the rain, and due to the rain itself (which was particularly heavy at that moment) the driver did not have a perfect view of the road (sic). After the driver lost control, the car crossed a stretch of the track and the rear collided with the side embankment. Straightening up suddenly, the car ran up the opposite back and rolled over, landing straight back in a normal position on the track; it is thought that Varzi received the mortal blow to the head as the car overturned on the bank.” The Alfetta was the .114, which was later repaired. Reims 18 July: the .109 was driven by Sanesi, race number 28, and came second behind the sister driven by Wimille, having overtaken Alberto Ascari’s Alfetta on the last straight and winning by just a few metres. The Italian Grand Prix, Turin, the Valentino circuit, 5 September, the .109 was driven by Sanesi, but who withdrew from the race on the 51st of the race’s 75 laps. Wimille’s Alfetta come first. Monza Grand Prix, 17 September, four Alfettas in the first 4 places, Wimille, the .109 with Trossi, then Sanesi and Taruffi. .109 – May I? I have a couple of interesting stories to tell: in the race we drink between 60 and 100 litres every 100 kilometres. And I mean fuel, not simple petrol! Listen to what we had to digest! Methyl alcohol 94°-98°, 83.5%, acetone 6%, petroleum ether 30°-60°, 7.5%, castor oil 1.5%. To avoid corroding the compressors, this mixture had around 1.5% of a special, top-secret ingredient, discovered by chance during repeated tests. Today I can tell you, but at the time the name was shrouded in secrecy. What was it? Well, Portello tap water, from the Milan mains water supply... Up until that year (1948) we used Ricinavio, an oil made with castor oil, the same used for our radial aviation engine brothers manufactured at Portello. Then, they used Castrol R, and after also Shell Super Heavy. Modern mineral stuff, and at last less dirt and incrustations formed in the engine. A bit like when you have bronchitis and tons of catarrh, just to make it clear. 13 May 1950, European Grand Prix at Silverstone, UK, the .109, with race number 3, was driven by the not-so-young Luigi Fagioli, one of the famous “3 Fs” with Farina and Fangio. It came second, behind Farina’s .110, ahead of the .114 driven by Reg Parnell, who ran over a poor hare, damaging the front of the 158. .109 – Do you want to know what was written in the race report? “A race governed brilliantly by our drivers, and won with ease due to the inferiority of the competing cars”... In Monaco a few days later, on 21 May, the Silverstone cars, including the .109, were used as reserve cars for the practice, the engines still efficient. French Grand Prix, Reims, 2 July. The .109 was used as a reserve car. Grand Prix des Nations, Geneva, the .109, race number 2, was driven by Fangio, who led her to victory, followed by the .114 with De Graffenried and the .112 with Taruffi. Alfa Romeo and Ferrari were the main rivals in the race, according to the specialised press, and all the others had to put up with following at a distance. Fangio and the .109 had an impeccable race, in terms of speed and regularity. .109 – Thank you, dear. The 158s needed refuelling, the Ferraris didn't. However, Alberto Ascari’s Ferrari was forced to withdraw, and Gigi Villoresi had an accident with the other Ferrari. International Daily Express Trophy, Silverstone, 26 August. The .109 was driven by Fangio, race number 2, and came in second place behind her sister .111 with Farina. The next year, 1951, the 158s received their new numbering, with the prefix 159 for the chassis and engines. The chassis were similar to those used the previous year, still with a “Porsche” type rear pendulum axle but with even more aggressive engines, delivering 385 to 403 HP at 8100-8900 rpm depending on the gear ratio, with the possibility to reach 9200 rpm. Not bad for long racing engines designed 14 years earlier! The side fuel tanks were larger, the back widened to fit a larger tank there too. Trophy Race, 5 May 1951, the .109 was driven by Felice Bonetto, race number 3. A race with 2 heats and a final, which however was stopped at the 6th out of 35 laps due to heavy rain and hail. The .109 was tenth at the early stop, while Sanesi’s Alfetta stopped when the electrical system went up the creek due to the downpour. Berne Grand Prix, 25 May, the De Dion rear axle was used in the practice sessions for the first time, the .117 had the De Dion rear axle but still with the 158 small tail. The .117 was also in the race, with Sanesi at the wheel, and came in fourth place. First and third place, other Alfettas with the rear pendulum axle, second place a Ferrari 4500 aspirated engine. Belgian Grand Prix in Spa, 17 June, the .109 was driven by Sanesi, race number 6, again with the 158 small tail and small tanks, which it still has today. In 5th place, it was forced to withdraw from the race. UK Grand Prix in Silverstone, 17 July, the .109 was driven by Felice Bonetto, race number 4, and came in fourth. The .115 with Fangio, again with the pendulum axle, came in second, the .116 with Sanesi in 6th place, the .117, the only one with the De Dion axle, driven by Farina came in eighth. .109 – It was my last race. After that they retired me. The German Grand Prix at the Nürburgring on 29 July saw the participation of four Alfettas, three with the De Dion axle, two of which with “wide hips”. From then onwards, the last races of the season were run by “pure” 159s, with a widened, reinforced chassis, De Dion axle, large tanks. So the 159 “wide hips”, or also the tipo 160. .109 - I raced for 12 years, less two years testing at the start of the war and three years resting during the delocalisation and 1949, when we didn’t race. If I’m correct, I’m not very good at maths, I spent 6, SIX, years racing! My sisters and I always won a whole load of races! And the first two World F1 Championships! But here in the museum, I’ve heard people stand in front of me and say that our adversaries were not up to our level! I felt like running them over! We had plenty of worthy adversaries! One driver who I remember in particular behind my wheel? Well, I’ll give you a name: Juan Manuel Fangio. Is that enough? OK, he pushed us to the limit, but never went beyond that, with his cool calm that reassured us. But sorry, my favourite was Consalvo Sanesi. He was always very respectful of us and the orders from above, but he was very fast. Nino Farina pulled us about a bit, as did poor old Achille Varzi. Count Carlo Felice Trossi was respectful, but he pushed down hard, and so did the Frenchman Jean Pierre Wimille. They retired me in late 1951, then brought me here to Turin. In fact, I was actually tired of racing. Come and visit me here in the museum, I enjoy it. Stop by my side, ask me questions, if you know how to listen, I’ll be pleased to answer you... Goodbye everyone, see you soon... P.S.: I went to MAUTO in Turin a few years ago, with Mr Stefano Agazzi from Alfa Romeo Automobilismo Storico. Welcomed in the semi-dark room where the racing cars are on display, we asked the 159.109 if she felt homesick. She told us, yes, she got a bit melancholy every now and again, but luckily she could talk to the Alfa C.52 Disco Volante 3000: “...can you see her, down there!” And in the dark, we thought we saw a slight flash of headlights. -- Thanks to MAUTO – Museo dell'Automobile of Turin, for having made available to SpeedHolics the Alfetta "159.109" kept in its prestigious collection.

With single-seaters, the style of the car is designed entirely to suit its function. So can we talk of design for Formula 1 cars? Paolo Martin remembers when, during his time at the Centro Stile Pininfarina, he worked on the study of a car – still considered today a superlative example – that was designed not so much for its beauty but for driving safety on the track Photos and Drawings courtesy of Paolo Martin Archive According to Stephen Bayley, The Aesthete of Octane magazine, a car design expert and founding director of the Design Museum in London, “Artistically speaking, a F1 car is poor stuff. The cars are not even distinguished by ugliness; they simply lack that impossible-to-define element – an unstable mixture of surprise, desire, delight and memory that makes something beautiful. When technology alone dominates any product, there is small room for art”. This is the fault of the regulations which, today, in contrast to those in force in the 1960s, leave small room for the imagination. At that time, in fact, Bayley states, the less-strict regulations allowed beautiful single-seaters, such as the 1961 Ferrari 156 “Squalo” and the 1964 Lotus 33 to come to light. These cars however were born beautiful, without any contribution from stylists or designers whose creativity added a touch of imagination and diversity to an object that, ultimately, only had to be fast. And the 1969 Sigma Grand Prix was perhaps the only exception. In my day, the need for beauty in a single-seater came second. Its primary function was not to please but to go fast, faster than the others. Single-seaters were built by putting them together one piece at a time. And then, beauty is a subjective concept that depends on the culture of people and peoples, their history and traditions, how they have lived and live certain historical moments. Indeed, for me there is no such thing as beauty. Something is beautiful when it is well-proportioned; proportions alone dictate the style of an object, in any field: if something is in proportion then it is beautiful, because its lines do not disturb. As for the Sigma Grand Prix, the main aim was to develop a research prototype in order to offer new concepts of active and passive safety for single-seaters, as towards the late 1960s these cars were often involved in dramatic accidents. Fires were one of the most frequent causes of death (first and foremost that of Lorenzo Bandini in the Montecarlo GP in 1967), but their overall fragility was behind many sporting tragedies. The Swiss magazine Automobile Revue raised the issue, pushing the engineering world to look for a solution. Pininfarina accepted this challenge when the load-bearing structure of a Ferrari 312 F1 was brought in: a dismantled tubular chassis, a pedal box, four wheels, a 60° V12 2,990cc engine (with 400 HP at 9,200 rpm) and the RM 5-speed gearbox. “Try to invent something that won’t hurt people during the race” were the instructions I received from Franco Martinengo, then head of the Pininfarina Style Centre, when he tasked me with the job. I don’t think that one person has ever had to tackle an issue not intended for the public but for a specialised, technical sector like the Formula 1 world. Astonished, initially I treated the instruction as a joke, but then I threw myself head-first into the project. I thought and thought again and, among my youthful fancies, I who had never seen an F1 close up, the idea grew and grew to build a deformable sub-chassis with a rigid cell fitted on the top. But I soon realised that it would be too complicated to make, because of the related weight problems. And so I built a mock-up chassis in polystyrene, just to see what impression it gave. I had four 10 cm wooden shims placed under the engine and under the pedal box and empirically decided on the length of the wheelbase. I sat down in the centre on a wooden block, with the steering wheel in my hand, and began to dream of being on the track, even making engine noises (you might laugh, but that’s exactly what I did). And as I did this, some workers pushed the engine against my back. When it felt right, I said: “stop there”. And that’s how I set the wheelbase of 2,400 mm! Slowly but surely, with tons of sketches, discussions and doubts shared with the workshop manager Morra, I personally created a very no-frills and quite pitiful chassis in polystyrene. But the funny thing was, when I asked the various managers how the job was going, I realised that everyone knew even less than I did. I received some “valid” help from Martinengo, the director, who in Piedmont dialect, said: “caro Martin cà fasa l'on c'à vol!” – "do what you like - in any case nobody understands a thing”. A few words, but it was better than nothing. And so came the Sigma Grand Prix: it was 4,200 mm long; 1.940 mm wide; 930 mm high, with front and rear axle track measuring 1,550/1,580 mm; the 2,400 mm wheelbase and 590 kg weight were decided after some obscure safety studies and guesswork. I must say that, still today, I, and later Mr. Theo Page, specialist in details and transparency, are the only ones who knew how this car is assembled internally. Everything is sealed with rivets, and the assumptions triggered afterwards are merely the fruit of imagination. In the pictures accompanying this article, one shows what lies underneath, but I drew it myself from memory. To know how it is made inside, you would have to unrivet the whole thing. My Sigma is also the fruit of pure imagination, because basically I am a creative guy who acts on a problem trying to solve it. The Sigma was pure imagination, but its concept was revolutionary, as it was the first car built in aluminium alloy, applying an aeronautical criterion, and no longer using a tubular chassis. On top of this, other solutions were adopted as recommendations for construction. In fact, the Sigma is built entirely in Avional, with all the sections riveted, while the single-seaters of the time were made with welded 15 mm pipes, which were awful in safety terms. And then, as far as the style is concerned, I don’t know what to say: I had never seen a Formula 1 close up, and I invented everything. The line was functional to safety, so that the front parts could be repaired easily, making it safe in the rain, also using rubber, and inventing the hook to block the helmet. But how much this imagination was really functional at speed I never had a change to find out: the car never actually ran; it was purely for theoretical purposes. I agree that it was different, but I never thought about beauty when I was designing it. When I work, I toss ideas around, make a sketch, and if I believe in it then I continue. I never do two versions. Sometimes I don't even make a sketch. I built the Sigma in two months, thinking only about its functions, so the deformation, how the spars were positioned, the external tanks and so on, and more than anything it all seemed logic to me. Like the four 50 litre tanks made by Pirelli in open-cell foam rubber, or the fire-fighting system, the four-point belts, the deformable dashboard that would open on impact and various purely instinctive solutions deriving from creativity and the desire to succeed. The front is “full width”, with the front wheels partially faired, a solution that was used the following year by Tecno in the Formula 2 and in 1971 by Tyrrell-Ford. The sides are very wide, so that they cannot catch on other cars, and the tanks separated in the sides, protected from each other by a buffer zone. The rear spoiler was placed forward and anchored directly to the chassis to prevent it from coming away, while the pilot’s helmet was fixed to the roll-bar with a belt. And this is how the Sigma was born, spur-of-the-moment. The car was put on display at the Geneva Motor Show on Thursday 13 March 1969. Unpainted at the time, it was only painted white afterwards.

Everyone knows: the cars in Sant’Agata Bolognese would never have been born without the now-famous dispute between Ferruccio Lamborghini and Enzo Ferrari. And history reminds us that, from that day onwards, the pair never spoke to each other again. Luigi Marmiroli has tried to imagine a new meeting, at dinner: a exhilarating and at times emotional story, where rivalry is toned down and the humanity of these two legendary manufacturers comes to the fore. Pictures courtesy of Luigi Marmiroli Archive I can immediately see that the cover story is false. And yet, I have personally known and admired both Enzo Ferrari and Ferruccio Lamborghini, so I can assure my readers that, in this “virtual” meeting, both express their true personality and talk about facts that really occurred. The professional lives of Enzo Ferrari (1898-1988) and Ferruccio Lamborghini (1916-1993) overlapped for a period of around fifty years. However, despite working close to each other (Maranello is around twenty miles from Sant’Agata Bolognese), apparently - though we cannot say for sure - they only met once. First of all, please forgive my short digression into local history. For some time in Italy, both small towns and cities would compete with neighbouring municipalities, and the rivalry was fierce. Those with the highest towers, the largest cathedrals, the relics of the most important saints, the greatest artists, as well as the most interesting culinary traditions, stood out from the crowd. And while this all contributed to the creation of an infinite number of artistic and cultural works across the “Bel Paese”, it also certainly fuelled feuds and juxtapositions that still exist today, at least in part. Ferrari, the son of a steelworker, was born in Modena; Ferruccio, the son of a farmer, in the province of Bologna. It is worth mentioning that, in the Middle Ages, a battle between Modena and Bologna caused over a thousand deaths. This innate competition between Ferrari and Lamborghini, already based on these historical facts, was to grow further, due to the fact that they both built similar products. A competition that, starting from its founders, would soon spread to the workers, designers, suppliers and clients of these two distinctive brands. When out on test drives, the testers of the two companies deliberately sought out impromptu races on the local roads. This rivalry between the two companies had - and I think still has today - positive effects. I experienced this first-hand: when designing Lamborghinis, our (not entirely concealed) aim was to compete with the style, technology and general performance of the other international car makers, but with a very specific focus on Ferrari. I imagined a meeting over dinner, on one of the typical damp, foggy days the area is renowned for, towards the late 1970s when Ferruccio Lamborghini had already sold his company and was about to retire to an estate on the banks of Lake Trasimeno to grow grapes. Ferrari, in turn, had sold the industrial part to Fiat Auto, keeping the Racing Department for himself. The restaurant, lying half way between the two companies, is famous for its owner’s strange behaviour, and for being frequented by supercar enthusiasts and personalities from all over the world. To avoid indiscreet eyes and ears, they met there on the day the restaurant was normally closed. Ferrari arrived in his classic 400 GT/4 2+2 driven by his loyal driver Dino. Lamborghini drove up in his own white Countach. Both cars were hidden in an inner courtyard. Lamborghini: Good evening Commendatore, or would you prefer Ingegnere? Ferrari: Good evening to you, Cavaliere. My staff call me "Grande Capo", the press Commendatore, Ingegnere, Drake… Let’s leave the titles to one side, and simply be Ferrari and Lamborghini. L: I agree. Fifteen years have passed since our last and only meeting. I must admit I was surprised to receive the invitation; I seem to remember we didn’t leave on the best of terms before. F: Of course, you came to talk to me about one of my cars that you had bought that had irreparable problems with the clutch… L: Your spare parts didn’t do the job. F: You told me you had solved the problem using a clutch from one of your tractors. And, I remember well, I told you that you weren’t able to drive my powerful cars, and invited you to go back to driving tractors. L: That’s right, in fact I remember your arrogance perfectly well, and that I promised that I would make cars better than yours. Things were heating up, but luckily the owner came over to take the orders. Ferrari, as any good Modenese, usually dined at the Cavallino (a famous restaurant opposite the entrance to his company) and didn’t stray too far from his traditional cuisine. Lamborghini, who on the other hand always had lunch with his staff in an old restaurant in Cento, obviously preferred Bolognese cooking. Ferrari ordered the "tortellini" with cream, rather than the classic version in capon broth, mixed boiled meats and "zuppa inglese" (ndr. an Italian-style trifle). Lamborghini ordered "tagliatelle alla bolognese", "cotoletta" and classic "torta di riso". Once again the local rivalry came to the fore. They agreed only on the Parmigiano Reggiano and a bottle of good Lambrusco. And then they got back to the discussion: F: I advised you to stay with your tractors, indeed I have to say that in less than ten years you abandoned the car business. L: It’s true that for financial reasons I had to retire to a farm, but I have showed the world how capable I am of building exceptional cars. I promoted my brand, with the unmistakeable style and technology of my cars: today the "Toro Furioso" is worth no less than the "Cavallino Rampante". I am sure that my competition caused you suffering. You are surely aware that our respective testers have often raced on the roads, with my Miura frequently beating your Daytona. Some of your staff told me something you said, Ferrari: ”It’s lucky that the Miura is built by Lamborghini, otherwise it would be trouble for us”. I know that, for you, saying this was an appreciation of the style and mechanics of the Miura, but at the same time you were highly critical of my industrial skills. F: And yet, to design your cars you took on many engineers who had left Ferrari: Giotto Bizzarrini for the engine, Giampaolo Dallara for the chassis and even Giancarlo Guerra for the bodywork. L: Of course, I admit this, but you too, seeing the success of our Urraco, commissioned your Dino 308 GT/4 from our historical stylist, Marcello Gandini. F: That was not my choice, but came from the industrial side, and in any case the Dino 308 was never very successful. The style of all my cars, thanks to Pininfarina, on the other hand, has become a classic benchmark all over the world, and popular with famous people, even kings and queens. L: This is why I do not consider myself a competitor: my clients are far less noble, but younger, rich and proud to drive aggressive cars that get them noticed. As the stomachs gradually filled, the rivalry stepped aside and they began to talk about their children: Ferrari about Dino, who died young, and Lamborghini about Tonino, who was studying at university. Leaving them to their conversation, I thought that there has always been a certain rivalry among their clients too, like that between the fans of two football teams. I can confirm this with a photo taken many years ago of a beautiful red Countach at the Festival of Speed in Goodwood, England. On one side, the owner had ironically marked a black cross over all the Ferrari badges he said that he had out-classed on the English roads. An endearing way of comparing himself to the Red Baron, the First World War ace pilot, who when returning from the dogfights would mark crosses on the fuselage to show how many planes he had shot down.

Gandini and Lamborghini are two inseparable entities, and together they have developed authentic style legends, including the Miura, the Countach and the Diablo, but there have been some hiccups along the way. Luigi Marmiroli pays homage to the extraordinary Turin-based designer Pictures courtesy of Luigi Marmiroli Archive When I met Marcello for the first time, the name Gandini “still” rhymed with Lamborghini. Marcello Gandini, the historical father of the Lamborghini style, began working with the manufacturer from Sant’Agata Bolognese a few years after it was founded by Ferruccio. He joined the staff at Carrozzeria Bertone in Turin as a young man, and designed their first flagship car: the Miura. Then, after moving on to the legendary Countach, he reached the Diablo and some of its many versions. Then - and here we take a leap to our times - for the celebration of the 50th anniversary of the Countach, Automobili Lamborghini launched the new Countach LPI - 800 - 4 on the market. To many, the car seemed more the result of a commercial operation than a celebration car. And the main critic was Marcello Gandini himself, the father of the original model. As explained by the managers of Lamborghini, not only he was not involved in the project, but he was also rather disappointed with the result. As the media told, Gandini stated that “his” Lamborghinis were based on different concepts, and for him this new Countach was the denial of the founding principles of his DNA as a designer. I have no idea how the disagreement ended, but I think that from that day on, after exactly 50 years of cooperation, Gandini no longer rhymes with Lamborghini… In the past, there had already been an episode of misunderstanding that I can tell you, because I saw it with my own eyes. When I was appointed to design the Diablo and the time came to choose the style, I was firmly convinced that the final choice would have been made by the historical designer Marcello Gandini, considering his brilliant past with Lamborghini. But I was told that he had already been contacted and had refused the job. Apparently, before commissioning a new car from Gandini, the person who contacted him, who probably was not very familiar with his history, asked him to demonstrate his skills, showing him some sketches of supercars. It seems that Gandini wasn’t too happy about this, and sent him off with a flea in his ear saying that his sketches were already on the market: Miura, Countach, Urraco, Espada… Despite this misguided attempt, it wasn’t too hard to bring Gandini back to design the new Lamborghini, that which was to become the Diablo. The Diablo which - as already mentioned in another article - was the only Lamborghini to bear his name on the bodywork. On the cover, I wanted to show off the “Trilogy” of Lamborghini flagship cars, also because it seems that the media often neglects the Diablo, preferring its predecessors the Miura and the Countach. Beneath the bodywork, all three cars have equally thrilling mechanics, and for this reason, I think it’s only right to underline the style of the three different engineers who were their main designers: Giampaolo Dallara, Paolo Stanzani and myself. I must acknowledge that Gandini always facilitated the work of the mechanical designers, as his creativity was based on his significant engineering culture. This meant that whenever he became aware of the inevitable problems found during the prototype tests that could affect the style, he always came up with some very clever aesthetic solutions. This is why I believe that we owe the philosophy of the Lamborghini style to him, that love at first sight on seeing the car, the celebration of the mechanics and the direct communication of power and speed, even when the car is parked. Furthermore, the low, streamlined body, the strong, pure lines and the aversion to parts added merely for aesthetic purposes, such as chrome-plating, two colours, mouldings, etc., highlight the aggressiveness, exclusivity and that fantastic difference compared to the cars of the competition. The only thing I still have to investigate, and I promise to do it next time, is that peculiar and distinctive shape of the rear wheel arches, which he repeated on many of his designs.

Considered the most revered test driver in the history of Alfa Romeo, he was an accomplished racing driver in both the F1 and the Mille Miglia. Photos by Sanesi Family, Alfa Blue Team, Fabio Morlacchi Archives On the banks of the Arno River in Arezzo, Tuscany’s easternmost province, rests the sleepy comune of Terranuova Bracciolini — 35 kilometers from Florence, population 12,000. A decent spot for a quiet, uneventful weekend getaway — quaint, beautiful in parts, unassuming. All things told, Terranuova Bracciolini isn’t the kind of place you’d think of when pondering the origin stories of a cult racing hero. But it was here that on March 28th, 1911, Consalvo Sanesi was born. He was raised on Via Concini, a narrow back street off the main road. A characterless, low-key part of town. But Terranuova Bracciolini, for all its understatedness, makes a pretty fitting birthplace for Sanesi. Though he remains the most revered test driver in the history of Casa del Portello (The first Alfa Romeo factory), as well as an accomplished racing driver in both the F1 and the Mille Miglia, Sanesi himself was unassuming and short on public words. Thus, little is actually known about Sanesi the man and his life away from the track, despite his famous name. During my research at the Alfa Romeo Documentation Center I found only a handful of dry documents bearing mention of him. But I’m lucky to be on speaking terms with his daughter Edda, who could provide a better insight into her father’s character. By her account, Consalvo was shy and reserved, deeply attached to Alfa Romeo and grateful for them having taken him in. It’s as though he felt he owed them more than they owed him, even for all his contributions to their greatness. Directly across the Arno River from Terranuova Bracciolini is the town of Montevarchi. Just like it’s neighbour, Montevarchi is not the kind of town you’d associate with breakneck speed, but it too harbours a racing legacy that ties into the origin story of Consalvo Sanesi. Count Gastrone Enrico Brilli Peri was born into a noble Florence family in1893. After serving as a motorcyclist during the Great War he brought his talents to the race track after. Six years later, Count Gastrone would be crowned the Italian Grand Prix champion while racing an Alfa Romeo P2. With his winnings, and no doubt a fair helping of the family fortune, he bought himself a country home in Montevarchi. Thus, the story of the Brili Peri family and Consalvo Sanesi intertwine. No one knows how the young Sanesi came to find his way into the Brili Peri home garage. But it’s safe to assume that the presence of a nobleman, his part-time home and his collection of race cars wouldn't stay secret for very long in these parts. Speculation aside, the teenage Sanesi gradually became an ever present in the corner of the car workshop, making himself useful where he could, watching, learning and letting his passion for roaring engines grow. The boy’s fervour wasn’t lost on Count Brilli Peri either, who would later help him find work in an auto-repair shop on the busy Via Porpora in Milan, just a click away from Central Station. That was in 1928. The following year Sanesi received word that Alfa Romeo was on the lookout for mechanics in their racing department, and once again using his connections to the Count, he secured an interview with Technical Director Vittorio Jano. In a reluctant, sparsely-worded and unpublished 1960 memoir dictated to his secretary, Sanesi recounts this period of his life, “I joined the Alfa Romeo racing department as a mechanic, working on cars driven by the likes of Nuvolari, Campari, Varzi, Borzacchini and Zender (sic).” But as Sanesi’s life in motor racing was beginning to gather steam, another was about to grind to a halt. Count Gastone Brilli Peri lost control of his Talbot 1500 and flew off the road in Libya in 1930, during his test laps for the Tripoli Grand Prix. “He had already done seven or eight laps when the wind picked up and blew sand from the nearby dunes onto the track. Having felt the track out and not knowing what there was now to know, he arrived at the corner too fast and went off the track…” explained Sanesi simply in an interview. No fancy turns of phrase or rhetoric. When asked to speak of others though, Sanesi seemed more willing to open up a little. On Giuseppe Campari, the first ALFA test driver and later Alfa Romeo race driver, Sanesi said, “ Campari… was a great materialone (an Italian term for someone simple, pragmatic but often heavy-handed or inelegant). As he was in person he was in the car - good but rudimentary. I’d go with him in the car often… he’d grind the gearbox unlike the more deft drivers. But he was a daredevil on the street and on the track, and we clocked up some great times.” Sanesi would sit in the car with Campari as they tested its limits, tightening the steering wheel and making running adjustments as Campari indelicately stamped on the pedals and paid little heed to the needs of the engine. Campari was a big and burly man, and Sanesi was often forced to wrap one arm around his shoulder and hold on to the car's outer bodywork with the other as he sat in the mechanic’s seat, set back slightly from the driver’s in the narrow cockpit. From here he’d cling on for dear life and keep half an eye on the revs, tapping Campari’s shoulder to alert him to regular over-revs. But if that was a chastening experience, sharing a car with Borzacchini was downright traumatic. So much so that the mechanic who had to go out on the track with him was jeered by his colleagues. “We considered Borzacchini an unsafe driver, even dangerous... He used to make great lurching movements with the steering when cornering, he “rowed” as we say... He also had a habit of screaming when he entered a curve, and this didn't give you an impression of security when you were sitting next to him…” Sanesi worked in the racing department until 1933, when management passed to Scuderia Ferrari. Vittorio Jano, head of the project office, transferred Sanesi to the race car testing team, directly under the stewardship of Attilio Marinoni. But it didn’t last, as Marinoni and his operation were transferred to Modena. Jano wanted to keep Sanesi in Milan, so he gave him a new position testing series cars under the direction of Gianbattista Guidotti. In 1938, racing management returned under the direct direction of Alfa, and Sanesi returned to dealing with racing cars. The first tests of the new GP car, the 158 Alfetta, were carried out by Sanesi, with a view to him participating in the races with Enrico Nardi, who helped with the fine-tuning. The little single-seater was built to race in the small car category (up to 1500cc), and it vastly improved the fortunes of Alfa Romeo, whose reputation had been tarnished by poor performances in the wake of the fantastic Alfa P3. Vittorio Jano was forced to leave Casa del Portello after years of designing production cars, Grand Prix cars, industrial vehicles and aviation engines. His replacement was the Spaniard Wifredo Ricart, who with the help of Jano’s old team including Sanesi and Gioachino Colombo, designed and developed the Alfa Romeo 158. The 158 proved a hit, with its 195hp engine capable of reaching 230 km/ h at 195 hp and 7,200 rpm. Its run lasted thirteen years, by which time its capabilities had been surpassed by engines that could reach 390 km/h at 9,300 rpm. Still, a great run while it lasted. On its debut in 1938, at the Coppa Ciano in Livorno, Emilio Villoresi was chosen to drive the 158. His selection made a great narrative as his older brother Gigi was also racing that day (in a Maserati). Emilio overtook his brother who retired in lap 13, and roared home to victory on its first appearance — Just like its predecessors the P2 (1924) and the Tipo B P3 (1932). Emilio Villoresi’s life came to an end in June of the following year though, in yet another stark reminder that, in those days especially, great speed came with even greater risk. Enzo Ferrari would claim that he’d taken ill while throttling the car too enthusiastically after a hearty lunch, but Consalvo Sanesi had another explanation. When Sanesi met Gigi Villoresi later, he told him how his brother Emilio was really killed: “S'è rott el sterz (the steering broke)”. I digress... back to Sanesi. He made his official race debut a few months prior to Villoresi’s death, in a sprint Tobruk-Tripoli as the second driver of one Ercole Boratto, the personal driver of Benito Mussolini. The pair took home gold in the Alfa Romeo 6C 2500SS "Thick Wing”, hurtling along Via Balbia, the scenic Libyan coastal road built by infamous transatlantic pilot and air marshal Italo Balbo, who’d been appointed Governor General of Libya in 1933. In May 1940, Sanesi was second driver to Carlo Maria Pintacuda, in a 6C 2500 SS Spider Touring car in a rather odd edition of the Mille Miglia, which was to be completed over 9 laps of a 165km road circuit. The pair finished a modest 7th place, behind the likes of Bartolomeo “Meo” Costantini and Nello Ugolini. And then came the war. June 10, 1940 was the day that Italy entered the fray. Racing on hold, Alfa Romeo pivoted into aircraft engine development. They built in-line cylinder engines at their new plant in Pomigliano D'Arco, and radial engines at Casa del Portello. Thus continued Alfa Romeo’s race, now in the skies, powering the Regia Aeronautica (Italian Royal Air Force). The Macchi C.202, and the fearsome three-engine bomber Savoia Marchetti S.79 both came in part from Alfa Romeo. Though testing continued for a little while on Richart’s new creation, the type 512 racing car, the plans were soon shelved as the country plunged further into the darkness of conflict. So it was that aviation became a part of Consalvo Sanesi’s life. In 1938 he’d married Vittoria Salandini, an employee at EIAR (Italian Radio Auditions Authority) and the widow of an aviator who’d disappeared in the skies of Cairo en route to Eritrean minister Luigi Razza. They two met when she was studying for her driving license (he was her instructor). In return, she’d helped him study for a diploma to become a technical designer. In 1939, the aforementioned daughter Edda was born. But it was after the end of World War II that Sanesi became, in a way, the essence of Casa del Portello. The company went from strength to strength, led by a team of fantastic test drivers, engineers and racing drivers. The Alfetta 158 of the late 30s was quickly surpassed by superior versions of cars such as the 1900, the Giulia, the Giulietta, the 2600, and various upgrades of the Alfetta. Sanesi’s racing career would continue until 1964. He was 53 years of age when he entered what would be his final race. At the 12 hours of Sebring, his Alfa Romeo Giulia TZ crashed and burst into flames. Racing driver Jocko Maggiacomo was spectating nearby, and rushed to drag the imperiled Sanesi from the flames. Though his racing career ended that day, Sanesi’s life rolled on. Not the type to go out in a dramatic blaze of glory like some of his less fortunate, though more bombastic colleagues, Sanesi lived until the ripe old age of 87, passing away in July 1998—Never saying too much, never making too big a deal of things. A very Sanesian way of doing things. (To be continued...)

"One wonders that if people like Frank had not been around in the early days, whether Formula One would have survived today.” So go the words of Bernie Ecclestone to PA News Agency in memory of Sir Frank Williams, the motorsports icon who passed away on Sunday, November 28 this year. Photos Alamy Stock Photo “He was one of the people that built Formula One,” continues Ecclestone. “It’s the end of an era.” Since his passing, the tributes to the Williams Racing Formula 1 team founder have been flowing in. Lewis Hamilton wrote not just of his racing prestige, but of his humanity. “Sir Frank Williams was one of the kindest people I had the pleasure of meeting in this sport. What he achieved is something truly special. Until his last days I know he remained a racer and a fighter at heart. His legacy will live on forever.” Considering the fact that Williams suffered an injury that left him paralyzed all the way back in 1986, it’s no overstatement for Hamilton to call him a fighter. Just imagine the strength of spirit required from Williams to keep on pushing through physical challenges to build not just one of the world’s best known racing teams, but to help shape Formula One into the cultural behemoth it is today. Before even considering his achievements in the racing world, to simply live until the age of 79 as a tetraplegic beggars belief. A fighter. It’s almost poetic that Williams would sustain his injuries behind the wheel of a car. While rushing to make the airport in time for a flight out of Marseilles, France, Williams crashed his rented Ford Sierra into a wall. Though his passenger Peter Windsor came away unhurt, Williams was trapped – the time spent under the crushed car exterior almost killing him. He spent six weeks on life support, during which the medics attending to him implored his wife Virginia, often known as “Ginny” to give in, to allow the machines to be switched off, but she refused. Just six weeks later, the “fighter at heart” was given a raucous ovation when he showed up for the British Grand Prix in his wheelchair. Williams appeared completely undeterred in his work despite his physical ailments – in fact his resolve was only steeled by the incident in ‘86. He wasn’t long returning to work, keen to innovate and commit to glory. The Williams team went on to claim more victories than it ever had from ‘86 through the 90s. Behind the wheel of his cars, names like Nelson Piquet, Nigel Mansell, Damon Hill, Alain Prost and Jacque Villeneuve were inscribed in the history books. Frank Williams was born to an RAF pilot and a teacher in South Shields in 1942, though his parents break-up led to him being raised by his grandparents. At boarding school in Dumfries in Scotland, it became apparent that young Frank was more enamoured with cars than textbooks – the lust for speed rammed home when he drove in a Jaguar XK150 as a teenager. When he left school, he took up a sales job for the Campbell’s Soup Company, and wouldn’t you know, his company car didn’t last too long. Williams’ daring seemed better suited to the race track, and so he climbed into an Austin 40, stepped on the gas on track day, and quickly climbed the ranks to Formula Three. Crash after crash came, until he was eventually convinced to step up into management. Always determined to succeed no matter the job description, he founded Frank Williams Racing in 1967, and entered Formula One just three years later – with little but an old Brabham and some Cosworth engines. Piers Courage was the driver in those days, a close friend of Williams’, who was courageous by name and nature alike. Tragically, Courage died in the Dutch Grand Prix in 1970. Success came slowly for Williams – no head starts ever given or earned. Even when help seemed to appear, he always went his own way. Call it stubbornness, or call it vision. His team had been sold to the Canadian oil baron Walter Wolf in 1976, and Williams took his leave – no outside interference welcome. He founded Williams Grand Prix Engineering and began from scratch with the help of revered designer Patrick Head. The two innovated and worked for marginal gains everywhere, and once Saudi Airlines agreed to sponsor the team, they were ready to thrive. The Argentine Grand Prix was their first foray, in 1978, and a first win came soon after at Silverstone with the now legendary Clay Regazzoni behind the wheel. Intermittent success followed through the 1980s, with constructors' championships as well as Alan Jones’ drivers’ title in 1980. Then came Keke Rosberg in ‘82, and another constructor’s championship in ‘86. 1986, you’ll remember, was the same year William’s life would change irrevocably, one day in Marseilles. Those post-crash years of Mansell, Prost, Hill et al came thick and fast. The success was heady. But they weren’t without their heartbreaks. In 1994, one year after Prost’s world title and two before that of Hill, the San Marino Grand Prix was the scene of one of racing's greatest tragedies – the death of Ayrton Senna. He was a three time world champion, and the ace in the William’s pack. On lap seven, he hit a wall at a fatal 265 km/h. He didn’t stand a chance. One of the world’s best loved racers was gone, and the blame was placed by a local prosecutor squarely at the feet of Williams, Head and designer Adrian Newey. It would take three years for each to be acquitted of any crime. Throughout this time, the Williams team continued to honour their leading driver – with every Williams race car displaying a Senna logo from 1995 until 2012. After coming through the trials and tribulations of the Senna Trial, after battling his paralysis for over a decade, after elevating the sport at one of its lowest ebbs, and after forging one of the world’s most successful Grand Prix teams at a time when Ferrari and McLaren were also on top of the world, Frank Williams became Sir Frank Williams in 1999. His legacy had been written. In 2012, Sir Frank Williams finally stepped away from his role on the board of the Williams Racing Team, and was duly replaced by his daughter Claire. The name will live on. Always.

At the end of his career at Lamborghini, Luigi Marmiroli was invited to take part in a supercar project being launched in Japan. It could have been a unique opportunity for the Sant’Agata-based manufacturer, if the project hadn’t been blocked mid-way, ending up – as the engineer tells us – in the bottom drawer of broken dreams. Photos courtesy of Luigi Marmiroli Archive Towards the end of 1996, and at the end of my fantastic experience as Technical Director at Automobili Lamborghini, I was invited by the then-CEO to a meeting for the presentation of a unique supercar project: the ‘Aerosa’ by Japanese designer Nobuo Nakamura, president of Gigliato Japan. In addition to the project, those Italian-sounding names tickled my curiosity: Gigliato and Aerosa. I must say that a few years early in Lamborghini we had been enthusiastically working to try and design a car, which unfortunately did not come to fruition, to replace the Diablo, so that this would not be the only Lamborghini on the market: the P140, which I will describe to Speedholics readers in another article soon. Styled by Gandini, it could have been worthy of the line-up of the Urraco, the Jalpa and the Silhouette. Unfortunately, the project was sacrificed during the transfer of ownership from the US Chrysler to the Indonesian Megathec. After my job at Lamborghini, and returning full-time to my Fly-Studio in Modena - where I sought to maintain that raging bull imprinting - I thought that a partnership between Lamborghini and Gigliato could have been a solution to the problem of the Diablo as a single product. I set off for Japan, enjoying an unforgettable “full immersion” in the ancient Japanese culture as well as their modern industrial and technological world. In this respect, I must admit that I quickly learned to perform the “ceremony” of exchanging business cards... I must say that, thanks to my experience and background in Lamborghini, and Ferrari before that, all the doors opened for me, including those in the largest companies. And so, when I finally met Nobuo Nakamura, I realised how much talent he had expressed in the Aerosa and, beneath that typical Japanese veil of impassiveness there was that passion for supercars shared by Latin peoples. When I returned to Italy, also with the agreement of Lamborghini, I threw myself into a preliminary technical and financial analysis of the Aerosa with a view to a joint venture between Italy and Japan. The result was an incredible international partnership that was both challenging and fascinating. I had an underlying philosophy in mind: heading towards the end of the century, the world was becoming increasingly global, and this led me to think that supercars and racing cars were the ideal means for peoples of different nations and different cultures to share the same passion. This is why Gigliato Germany was set up in Dusseldorf, to oversee the economic management of the project, and an agreement was signed with the UK’s Lotus to supply their new-born TYPE 918 Twin Turbo engine. At the same time, agreements were signed with the Japanese giant Kobelco for the supply of extruded aluminium parts for the chassis, with the Italian company Tir for the body panels, and a Memorandum of Understanding was signed between Lamborghini Automobili and Gigliato. However, what I was most interested in was the creation of Gigliato Italy in Modena; for me it was a great honour to be appointed as the design, prototyping industrialisation manager for the whole project. We set up a workshop in the abandoned site where Lamborghini had produced its Formula 1 engines. I brought five Japanese engineers, CAD experts, to Modena and they worked at the design workstations along with some skilled local craftsmen with golden hands and brains who had already been involved in the local supercar world. Needless to say, the greatest difficulties lay in the communication between them. The Japanese spoke an incomprehensible English, while the Modena guys preferred to express themselves not even in Italian but in local dialect. Some rather embarrassing situations occurred in this Tower of Babel, but the enthusiasm of working on a new project, supported by a few glasses of Lambrusco, helped them to overcome all misunderstandings. But while I was looking forward to seeing the new Aerosa on the assembly line, alongside the Diablo, Lamborghini changed hands again and the project was ditched, and I had to file it in my drawer of broken dreams. A drawer that, alas, is already stuffed with many other wonderful unfulfilled dreams (and we will talk of these in the coming articles…), first and foremost that of the P140. An interesting fact: when the Aerosa was presented to the press in Tokyo (with the agreement of Umberto Agnelli, then Ambassador for cultural and commercial relations between Italy and Japan), above our heads there were three flags: the Japanese, the Italian and the German, reminding of the countries involved in the project. During my speech, it came naturally to me to refer to and distance myself from the infamous “Rome-Berlin-Tokyo Axis” signed during the Second World War. It is well known that this alliance led to huge disasters and infinite losses across the world and above all in Japan. Ironically, I assured the journalists present that, in contrast to the previous one, this new agreement would have led to a peaceful, common passion for supercars. But I got the impression that the historical reference didn’t go down well… I consoled myself with the thought that the audience, mostly young, must have deliberately cancelled that ugly page of history from their minds.

Talking about the industrial situation after the Second World War, Prof. Grandi investigates the small workshops which, starting from mass-produced cars, brought to life extraordinary examples of craftsmanship in design and aerodynamic experimentation. Among all these, worthy of note was the coachbuilder Meteor, from Varese, which, as its very name involuntarily foresaw, crossed Italian car history as quickly as a meteorite, leaving absolutely impressive creations in its wake. Drawings courtesy of Massimo Grandi When we are charmed by a vintage car, we often forget to consider the context in which it was created. We may place it in a given season of history, but we rarely consider the social conditions, professional qualities and trades which, at certain times in history, led to the special and unrepeatable development of art, technique and manufacturing skill. So, in Italy in the period between the two world wars, and thereafter from the second half of the 1940s, above all in Turin, Lombardy and Emilia, the professional talents in the world of both two and four wheels had spread and consolidated, in the field of both engineering and bodywork. This widespread savoir-faire developed around the large factories in Turin and Milan, but not only. Around the big names like Fiat, Alfa Romeo, Lancia, Maserati and the newborn Ferrari, as well as the big coachbuilders like Touring Superleggera, Farina, Pininfarina, Bertone, Vignale and Ghia – to name but a few – an authentic constellation of secondary activities had formed, true industrial and craft-level spin-offs. Spin-offs, as well as a fabric of small businesses, in the vast majority of cases linked to the competition car world, which after the Second World War developed rapidly and gained more and more popularity. But while the period after the war was difficult for the large companies that had suffered severe damage during the war, for the small manufacturers it was even tougher. For most small businesses, building a complete car, as Ferrari succeeded in doing with its sci-fi 12-cylinder engine, was an impossible feat. The only possibility was to develop cars starting from what the industry made available, using both the engine and often also the chassis. A few companies had started to build engine components, cylinder blocks and heads, as in the case of Stanguellini, or actual engines in the case of Ermini from Florence. We should recall that in the second half of the 1940s, depending on what was available on the market, the most common and interesting models for the small manufacturers and coachbuilders to develop were based on the Fiat 508, 1100 and 500 and the Lancia Aprilia. In this brightly-coloured constellation of engineering and bodywork enthusiasts, hundreds of cars were built, almost always single pieces, and always linked to the competitive sports world. Often it was the drivers or the ‘gentlemen drivers’ who asked for racing cars to be built, and the same car always ended up destroyed or reconverted. This meant that many of the creative cars built by these small workshops didn’t survive until today, and so we can only enjoy them through old archives and photographs. And this is why here I would like for a moment to leave the world of the big cars, those renowned and well-studied models, seeking to discover some cars known only by a very few enthusiasts with in-depth knowledge of the car culture. I would like to do this because, in design terms, these cars are often real gems, and this is why they deserve attention and appreciation. I will start this overview with a very special car, made by a small coachbuilder in the mid-40s: the Fiat 1100 Coupé Meteor. Meteor was founded in 1945 in Varese, in Via Bellavista 4, by Vittorio Bosdati, but was immediately taken over by the driver Dario Dal Monte Casoni. Dal Monte Casoni aimed to make one-off cars, intended especially for racing. Locally there was plenty of skilled labour, particularly panel beaters. But the company lasted only a few years, closing in early 1949, and focused in particular on special cars based on Fiat 500, Fiat 1100 and Lancia Aprilia engineering. The interesting aspect of this production lies mainly in the bodywork design. Dal Monte Casoni constantly strived for maximum aerodynamic efficiency, based intuitively on its basic principles, starting from the theoretical shape of the so-called “elongated drop”. On paper, the “elongated drop” is the shape of a solid suspended in a fluid with a Cx of zero. The practical problem is that the ratio between width and length of this particular shape makes it impossible to be faithfully applied to a car, which would end up being overly long. But based on this arrangement, Del Monte Casoni achieved some truly extreme solutions, without much attention to the distribution of volumes or interior comfort. His Fiat 1100 Coupé is an emblematic example of this. Its drop shape in fact has a very long tail, which could appear extremely unbalanced compared to the overall volume. The passenger compartment is reduced to a minimum, almost as if it was a record-breaking aerodynamic single-seater. If we compare the shape and size with that of the basic 1100 sedan, of which it kept the 2420 mm wheelbase, we can immediately understand the formal revolution. The driver and passenger sit in an extremely small, sacrificed space, practically on the chassis of the car which is extremely low, only slightly above the bonnet. As we said, an extreme solution, with apparently unbalanced proportions. I say apparently, because in my modest opinion, this car, considering that it was built essentially for competition purposes (Dal Monte Casoni raced this car at the Campo dei Fiori in Varese, for example), has its very own formal beauty. The clean, elongated lines, drawn over a longitudinal “thick wing” section, the small roof with a pronounced V-shaped windscreen, the very long tapered tail that ends in the wheel casing, give it is very own elegant line. The very modern front is reduced to the minimum, with a large, trapezoidal radiator air intake that is simply “cut in” with no frame, made of a metallic mesh accompanied by two square headlights, also cut into the bodywork without any decoration. One interesting feature of the aesthetics is the wide dihedral angle running centrally and longitudinally along the whole car, which was normally used by the panel beater to check the symmetries of the body. The end result is positive and highly expressive. On the other hand, if we look at the geometries of the front and rear main lines, we can see that even in the empirical creation of the design, some of the criteria used for the composition are far from random. With this coupé, which I would prefer to call a “Racing Berlinetta”, I think we are looking at a small design masterpiece. In addition to the considerations of its appearance, we must also recognise its efficient aerodynamic performance, as, without any changes to the engineering, the car could reach speeds of 145 km/h compared to the 110 of the original car. The convertible versions, again made on the Fiat 1100 and Lancia Aprilia base, as we can see in the bottom drawing of the Fiat version, repropose exactly the same volumes yet, beyond the competition dimension, are less able to cope with the clear imbalance. Even the front appears more dated and conventional for its time. In any event, the convertibles also express their own personality, but without reaching the height of our berlinetta. In its very short life, in addition to these two cars Meteor also made some pure sports cars, also using the chassis of the Fiat 1100, Fiat 500 or 750, developed by engineers of the calibre of Nando Tajana. There is also an interesting model based on the Lancia Aprilia, a notchback racing berlinetta, the appearance of which I have tried to recreate here, based on old archive photos of the body during the construction works. Also in this case, we can see a rather long tail which, like the previous convertible, is perhaps rather out of proportion in its overall shape, dictated solely by an attempt to assure aerodynamic function. To end, in addition to these sports creations, in 1949 Meteor also worked on a road car, a convertible made on a Fiat 1100 base. A demi ponton design which, in my opinion, is not particularly interesting, but in any case I felt was worth mentioning to offer an overall picture of the production of this coachbuilder. A story which, as its name seems unintentionally to recall, passed like a meteorite through Italian car history, leaving us however with a tiny gem like the Fiat 1100 coupé, bearing witness to a passion, an art and a skill that remind us of this extraordinary season in a distant past. -- 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). Sources: F. Maurizi: Archivio vetture sport A. Sannia: Enciclopedia dei carrozzieri italiani

Emilia Romagna is an ancient land of motors. Engineer Luigi Marmiroli traces back the historical and cultural reasons underlying the tradition and passion that has made this Northern Italian region unique for over a century. Pictures courtesy of Luigi Marmiroli Archive “Speed” was born in Emilia Romagna. Renowned worldwide as the Motor Valley, it lies on the Po River Plain in Northern Italy. Modena, AKA the Land of Motors, is its moral capital: here in late May every year, the Motor Valley Fest is held. The whole area is bursting with a huge passion for car and motorbike racing, for supercars and high-performing engines. No other region in the world has such a large number of top-range car manufacturers, international racing circuits, famous museums and private collections, as well as research centres, universities and schools that focus on this topic. On top of this, especially in the recent past, the motoring culture has really spread everywhere. In small towns and villages, rudimentary testing workshops were set up without any particular engineering knowledge. Here, people worked on engines of all kinds, their sole objective being to increase vehicle performance, within or without the limits of the law. In this respect, I have come up with my own personal theory to explain how this area is so filled with mechanical and motoring culture. The first reason: as said, Emilia Romagna is a very flat region, and rich in rivers it was ideal for the development of a flourishing farming community over the centuries. Consequently, it was bound to become a land of conquest. In 600 B.C. it was invaded by the Etruscans from the south-east; thereafter came the Celts and Gauls from Northern Europe. Then the Roman Empire took over, in turn conquered in 450 A.D. by the Huns, nomadic warriors from Northern Siberia. Then, two hundred years later came the Longobards from Northern Germany. This melting pot left the local people with a DNA that combines the creativity and passion typical of southern peoples with the rationality and determination of the peoples from the north. And the Emilian supercars are the happy marriage of these characteristics. The second reason: this flat, fertile land was ideal for the transition from ox- and horse-towed agricultural equipment to mechanical traction and the first rudimentary steam-powered tractors. And in this “primordial soup”, two enlightened visionaries came up with some fast sports and racing cars. In 1914, Alfieri Maserati founded “Società Anonima Officine Maserati” in Bologna, later moving to Modena. In 1929, Enzo Ferrari founded Scuderia Ferrari, with the initials “S.F.” in the symbol. The company became S.E.F.A.C, and this year is celebrating its 75th anniversary. In 1963, Lamborghini shifted its production straight from tractors to supercars. This vintage postcard rather naively illustrates the bond between the world of sports and racing cars and the city of Modena. Alongside the city’s Cathedral and Ghirlandina Tower are its typical food products, zampone and Lambrusco, and of course car racing competitions. In the Cathedral, a UNESCO world heritage site and an authentic age-old gallery of “marble images”, we can admire panels portraying the wheat harvest, grape pressing and even a mechanical workshop. As Enzo Ferrari liked to say, “You can’t describe emotion, you can only live it”. In Emilia Romagna, the 7 top-class car and motorbike manufacturers, the 5 international race tracks, 12 major museums and over 20 private collections open to the public tickle that thrilling desire for speed that only “speedholics” understand. And, after all these motoring experiences, I don’t think there’s anything better than sitting down to enjoy the over 40 typical PDO food and wine specialities that underline this region’s second nickname: Food Valley. To close, a photo of me, taken during an annual Motorvalley Fest: some car bodies, shaped by hand by the skilled local craftsmen, are on display in an ancient church. We could almost say that in this region, speed and supercars are a real … religion!

The history of Intermeccanica is that of the last five years of Scaglione’s work. Professor Grandi takes a look back over the events and the models he worked on, and the unlucky adventure with Frank Reisner that would lead him sadly to withdraw prematurely from the car design scene. Drawings courtesy of Massimo Grandi Frank Reisner was a Canadian citizen of Hungarian origins, a chemical engineer, but a car fanatic and above all a skilled business and public relations expert. In 1959 he came to Italy, and opened a company in Turin, Intermeccanica, a branch of the Canadian NEEC (North East Engineering Company) which also belonged to Reisner. In 1960, at the Grand Prix in Monaco, Reisner met a Californian engineer who had designed a “European style” GT with a Buick 3500 cc engine. Reisner began to produce the bodywork at Intermeccanica in Turin. It was 1962, and the car was the Apollo GT. But the car, designed by Ron Plescia, wasn’t particularly attractive, it appeared rather unbalanced, and a bit rough-and-ready because it had no back window. And so, Reisner got in touch with the firm Scaglione in Turin, to have them review the Apollo and make it more attractive. Scaglione accepted the appointment, and with a few but intelligent touches created a fast-back coupé with typically European, indeed Italian, lines, given the similarity with the Ferrari Gran Turismo of the time: the car was later manufactured by Motor Cars of Oakland in California, in 3500 GT and 5000 GT versions, with a 4-speed manual or 3-speed automatic gearbox. The car soon became all the rage, and was very popular among the Hollywood stars. Between 1961 and 1965 a total of 88 were built: 76 coupés, 11 convertibles and the 2+2 prototype. The start of the relationship between Scaglione and Reisner was therefore quite simple: a restyling job, but which was further developed and consolidated with the Griffith story. Here too, it was a case of a wealthy American who wanted to produce his own special car. His name was Jack Griffith, a Ford dealer and importer of British cars to the USA. He convinced the UK TVR to mount a US engine, the Ford 289, on their Grantura. And so the Grantura-Griffith came about, sold in the States with the name Griffith 200. After that came the Griffith 400, after which the contract with TVR fell apart, but Griffith wanted to continue to produce a Griffith 600, with a Ford engine, designed by Robert Cumberford, and Reisner was contracted to build the bodies at Intermeccanica. Once again, Reisner called in Scaglione to review the style, but especially to work on the construction design of the Griffith 600. So at this point, Scaglione was called in not only to offer his stylistic contribution but was also in charge of the construction design of a product. Here, we should underline that Scaglione was never directly involved with Intermeccanica, he was always an outsider, but their work together was certainly consolidated when , in 1966, Griffith went bankrupt and Intermeccanica was left with 100 unused bodies, and Reisner managed to get engines from Ford and gearboxes from Mustang, and set up the company “Intermeccanica di F. Reisner”, marketing what was to all extents an Italian car, the Torino, later renamed Intermeccanica Italia. Intermeccanica Italia coupé (1968) The Intermeccanica Italia, originally born with the name Intermeccanica Torino, which was later changed as the name Torino had already been deposited by Ford, substantially kept the features of Robert “Bob” Cumberford’s Griffith 600. Scaglione redesigned the front of the Italia, eliminating the long front bumpers and replacing them with two elegant bumpers, framing an oval air duct bearing the Intermeccanica Raging Bull logo in the centre, which bend round and continue along the sides. Along the sides, right after the front wheel arches, are two rectangular air ducts. The end result of this restyling was an elegant car, highly reminiscent of the Italian gran turismo models like those of Ferrari, with dynamic and aggressive lines, and in fact in both the berlinetta and convertible versions, despite the limited mechanical qualities compared to those of the GT from Maranello, were quite a commercial success, with around 500 sold. Again in 1968, a convertible version was launched. This version requires no additional comments, as from the beltline downwards, the car was identical to the coupé, but in any case it is worth describing. The design of the soft-top version was particularly upgraded; in other words, it gave its best and indeed in aesthetic terms, if not in terms of performance, it would not have lost face compared to the 1966 Ferrari 365 California cabriolet Pininfarina. But what was most important was that at last Intermeccanica had its own model for mass production, and even if only technically speaking, Scaglione was a part of this process. And so by 1968 Scaglione worked full time for Intermeccanica, giving an identity to the “Italia”, designing the “Murena” and the “Italia IMX”, a development on the basic competition model. Intermeccanica Italia IMX - Berlinetta competition prototype (1969) The Italia IMX was a development on the basic competition model. In this case, the design was all the work of Scaglione, and in fact once again we can see the clearly aerodynamic applications that were typical of his designs. The car was designed and built for racing, but was also based on the Italian gran turismo style of its peers Ferrari 275 GTB and Maserati Mistral, for example. This is the case of the carefully designed, luxury leather-lined interiors. The outer lines are the strictly sporting lines of a coupé, but it would be more correct to define it a two-volume fastback as the angle between the rear window and the roof is much less than 30°, so aggressive and dynamic. The side and upper profiles have rounded, fluid main lines, however characterised by numerous aerodynamic slots, including the NACA ducts on the bonnet and the openings on the side immediately before the front door frame, to vent the engine compartment. Other aerodynamic extras include the two front anti-lift spoilers and two small stabilizer fins at the top of the rear mudguards. All this along with a K-tail modelled at the top into a kind of fin to create greater pressure on the rear axle at high speed. The front is low, with no bumpers and a large, wide upturned trapeze-shaped air duct opening between the two inset headlights with no glass cover, set into the mudguards, each with a pair of lights both set into a shaped panel. Completing the front are the triangular spoilers. The roof is low and relatively flat, extending practically to the tail, including the rear window which, opening compass-style also acts as a rear door. The Italia IMX is therefore not only a beautiful example of an Italian gran turismo, but also bears witness to Scaglione’s design evolution in the early 1970s, which went on to become representative of his design for the Indra. With its clever aerodynamics and powerful engine - a V-shaped 8-cylinder cm³ (Ford), with 310 HP - reached 100 km/h in 6 seconds and 240 km/hour top speed. Intermeccanica Indra cabriolet and coupé (1970) Between the late 1960s and early 1970s, there was an authentic formal car design revolution on the international scene. From sinuous, rounded shapes, car design shifted suddenly to lean, square shapes at all levels and in all segments of car production. At the 1972 Paris motor show, Ferrari presented the Pininfarina 365 GT4 2+2, with its very square shape, which, in the Bertone Dino 308 GT4, presented in Paris in 1973, was developed and enhanced further. But we could also mention the 1970 De Tomaso Pantera, the Fiat 130 and X1/9, the Lamborghini Urraco, the concept Lancia Stratos HF Zero and the Gandini Lancia Stratos, to name but a few. This new language spread from compact to gran turismo cars, rooting itself radically in the culture and taste of Italy and beyond in the 1970s. As Scaglione was never really a “stylist”, he never paid attention to passing trends but rather the theoretical and experimental evolution of aerodynamics, but the weight and anchoring of these new styles also played out well in his hands. So, in this context, Scaglione too sought to experiment in his own way, exploring the new language based on the use of straight prisms, wedges and sharp angles. The result of the lexical hybriding can clearly be seen in his Indra convertible project. Even in the side view of this car we can see this new design imprint. Simply observe how the front and rear lines of the mudguards are modelled, with extremely tense lines and sharp corners, the straight beltline between the base of the windscreen and the tail, the tail itself cut into a prism shape at the top, the front with the narrow front, like the section of a bullet. Then, if we look at it the front three-quarters, this language is even clearer, with a flat, wide bonnet and two front retracting headlights, the front cut straight and enriched with two thin, straight bumpers. Then the complex volume is interesting as it meets the central fairing, a longitudinal curved wedge, along with the volume of the mudguard and the side of the car. Of course, looking closely, the Scaglione’s hand and personality emerge distinctively in this new language. The aerodynamic research, seeking the fluid shape that guides and accompanies the air flows creating as little turbulence as possible, led Scaglione to introduce and maintain a model that was also based on widely radiating main lines. This is all clear when we look at the front of the car: simply see the curve starting from the edge of the front end which then develops in a parabola to design the lower profile of the front leading edge. Scaglione’s skilled hand makes opposing geometries agree, with a unique balance and harmonious synthesis. As regards the coupé, in fact to be able to be mass produced, this is based completely on the same car body as the convertible, simply adding a fixed, rigid roof in place of the canvas one. If anything, we should say that the perfectly prismatic design of the roof perhaps accentuates the squarer image of the car compared to the spider. Intermeccanica Indra - Coupé fastback 2+2 (1972) The Intermeccanica Indra Coupé fastback 2+2 was presented at the 1972 Geneva Motor Show, and despite the unquestionable stylistic qualities of its design, only a few cars were made because Opel never gave the support that was hoped, nor that of its European sales network. The Indra coupé fastback is a further development of the Indra coupé. This time, the roof is no longer simply rigid but is an integral part of the car design. To create a little more space inside with two (small) rear seats, the rood is extended, ending virtually on the dihedral rear coupling. The three volumes of the Indra Coupé here become a fluid and perfectly balanced two-volume, maintaining the car body of the previous coupé and spider beneath the beltline. From a three-quarters view, it reminds us of another 1971 coupé fast back 2+2, the Ferrari 365 GTC/4, even though in purely stylistic terms, Scaglione's design is more balanced and harmonious than Pininfarina’s creation which, for the record, nicknamed the “Gobbone”, didn’t have such great commercial success, with just 508 models produced. The main lines we see in a side view are substantially those of the spider, but here they integrate perfectly with those of the rood, in this nervous weave of straight and curved lines, rotation solids and straight prisms. The ratio between the two volumes that create the whole car body is perfectly balanced. The image is one of a powerful, aggressive and yet elegant and substantially restrained car. The front is very beautiful, and absolutely new to Scaglione’s formal language, while maintaining the typical elements of his design, such as the very low front, the lack of mudguards, the “clean”, profiled front coupling Even the headlights retract into the body, as seen in other previous models: the Fiat-Abarth coupé 215 A and 216 B, the Lamborghini 350 GTV or the Titania Veltro. But all these typical elements are interpreted here in an absolutely new expressive manner. The whole front is projected forwards and curved downwards, but transversely, the fairing and bonnet, almost as if marking a counterpoint, have a slightly curved profile, marked almost imperceptibly by a central ribbing, which then runs upwards to softly meet the supper corners of the mudguards: an authentic symphony of curves. (FIG 13) Finally, it is extremely interesting to observed the complex plastic modelling. Simply observe the mudguard profile and the overlapping vanishing points generated by their solids. Perhaps the weakest part of this car, in my opinion, is the rear. Compared to the rich and complex modelling of the sides and front, it appears substantially “poor”. Consisting of a rear window and the baggage compartment, designed on a single plane which then folds, like the previous models, into a dihedral shaped corner of the rear coupling. In this case, probably, the need to maintain the whole car body identical beneath the beltline and maximise the internal space, forced the designer, having to model a single rear volume within set limits, to make this inevitable simplification. In any event, apart from this partial shortcoming in the rear, the Indra 2+2, along with the two other versions, remains a beautiful Italian gran turismo, marking the development of Scaglione’s design heading into the 1970s. This was the last of Franco Scaglione’s creations, and nothing more came after this. The professional career of this major designer ended suddenly and dramatically. In 1972 Scaglione was only 56, and his flair and undisputed skill could have brought us many other designs. His huge contribution to the birth, development and international success of Italian design would undoubtedly have been even greater than what he left us in any case. All in all, his particular, complex and intriguing approach to design, his inimitable creative synthesis, in other words his paradigm, remain in car history as a fundamental testimonial to Italian genius and excellence. -- 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). The drawings and part of the text were taken from “Il paradigma Scaglione” by M. Grandi, Libreria ASI, Turin 2016.

“You can’t make a racehorse out of a pig. But if you work hard enough at it you can make a mighty fast pig” Bob Akin Find this car listed on the brand new SpeedHolics Marketplace, featuring a curated selection of sales, auctions and restorations of the world’s rarest, most sought-after vehicles. Link to the Markeplace Along the eastern shore of the Hudson River, less than fifty kilometers from New York City lie the historic villages of Tarrytown and Sleepy Hollow, originally a Dutch settlement. You may well have heard of the area before – it was made famous by Washington Irving’s gothic short story, published in 1820, and even more so by Tim Burton’s 1999 movie starring Johnny Depp. Fiction aside, Sleepy Hollow has had its fair share of real life famous residents. Names like Carnegie, Chrysler, and Rockfeller have called this place home. So too did the powerful Akin family, a lesser known but equally fascinating lot. Though their story originates and blossoms through the industrial sector, one of its number made his name behind the wheel of racing cars. The Akin Family, The Hudson Wire Company & An Introduction To Racing Bob Akin was born in 1936 and raised right here in Sleepy Hollow. At the turn of the 20th century, Bob’s grandfather Robert had co-founded the Hudson Wire Company, which over the next century would grow to dominate the global aircraft and aerospace wiring market. Simply put, young Bob didn’t have to worry much about money. By no means was he spoiled though. He joined the family company after his studies, and served as President from 1974 until 1995. But like many people who are raised in comfort, Bob sought discomfort, risk, and thrill in other pursuits. He found his own particular adrenaline fix through speed. Initially, he developed a penchant for powerboats and dragsters, then pivoted to road racing by the end of the 50s. In those few short years however, Akin made quite the impression. He got his SCCA national racing license in 1959 and, aided by family money, hired the legendary racer John Fitch as his coach. He learned fast under Fitch’s tutelage, and in his third ever race at Bridgehampton, he drove an Alfa Veloce Spyder to victory. It was a short-lived love affair at first thought. By 1961, an ambition to grow the Hudson Wire Company took over, and racing was put on the shelf. Akin’s Return To The Track: Sebring, Le Mans & The Porsche 935 By the early 1970s, The Hudson Wire Company, now led by Bob Akin, was generating enormous amounts of wealth. For all his success in industry however, there was a dormant thirst for adrenaline within him. In 1973, a racing driver Sam Posey, a personal friend of Bob’s, invited him to drive his Mercedes-Benz 300SL at the annual Vintage Sports Car Club of America event at Lime Rock. Akin’s love for the track was reignited there and then, the very next month racing at classic car events in a Lotus 11, then a Cooper Monaco. Vintage races wouldn’t prove to be quite enough for Bob however. Photo: Bob Akin Photo: Hal Crocker Looking to step up his level of competition, Akin bought a Porsche RSR in 1978, taking to the track in the 12 Hours of Sebring, with a test run at Daytona for good measure beforehand. Now hooked on racing completely, Akin grew more and more hungry to improve. In his view however, the standard Porsche just didn’t quite fit the bill. Step forward, the 1982 Porsche 935 L1. Porsche was no longer building the 935 nor customizing them for racing, so Akin recruited his own team to take his 935 to the next level. From Canepa.com “Bob Akin knew if he wanted to win, he would have to come up with something totally radical for the 1982 season. Akin commissioned Chuck Gaa of Gaaco to design and build a "Super GTP 935". To improve aerodynamics and increase the straight-line speed of the new car a Lola T600 GTP nose was used. A new purpose built monocoque bonded aluminum chassis was constructed combining the best of the new GTP technology with the proven power and reliability of the Porsche 935 mechanicals. According to the rules, the windshield and roof section of a standard Porsche 930 still had to be used. To improve airflow even further the entire roof structure was tilted to put the windshield at a better angle. Due to its complexity and unique design, the car was delivered late after the season had already begun. It made its first appearance at Lime Rock in May, which served as a test for Le Mans. At the 24 Hours of Le Mans in June the car’s design came into its own and showed tremendous straight-line speed down the famous Mulsanne Straight. Unfortunately Akin and co-drivers David Cowart and Kemper Miller only lasted two hours before a malfunction with the reserve gas tank sidelined the car. While misfortune was experienced on the track, the unique 935 L1 at least gave the racing world a glimpse of its immense capabilities. Over the course of the next year, the team continued developing the car, returning to the US for the IMSA campaign. Akin and co-driver Hurley Haywards took fourth place at Mid-Ohio, then seventh at Road Atlanta, this time with Akin and Derek Bell, before seeing out its racing days at the Pocono 500 in late 1982. While Akin continued to race, to a fair degree of success, his one-of-a-kind 935 was retired. It took pride of place in Akin’s workshop and barely moved until 1999 – 27 years later. It was bought by French-Canadian restorer Jacques Rivard, of Rivard Compétition fame. Rivard fully restored the vehicle, with its engine and transmission rebuilt by G&S Autworks. According to Canepa, it’s known today as one of the greatest 935 vintage racers in the world – competing in the Rolex Monterey Motorsports Reunion. Bob Akin: A Glowing Career And A Bitter End How we wish we could say that Akin saw out his later years in peace and good health. But it’s the things we love the most that can truly damage us. The motor racing world knows this as well, if not better, than any else. Though Akin retired the 935, he was still hungry for honors at Le Mans and Sebring. Joining Burn Motorsport in 1984, he finished fourth at Le Mans in a Warsteiner Porsche 956B, then drove to victory at Sebring in 1986 in a Porsche 962, overcoming multiple wheel losses during the race. So the story goes, teammate Jo Gartner crossed the finish line on three wheels. Seven years later, in 2002, Akin met his end after a racetrack crash in a 1988 Nissan GTP ZX-Turbo, which he was test driving ahead of the Walter Mitty Challenge for historic cars at Road Atlanta. The ZX-Turbo took out a barrier and crashed into the trees beyond, bursting into flame after impact. Photo: Phil Stott Motorsport Akin was rescued from the wreckage and rushed to a nearby hospital by helicopter with a broken neck, leg, shoulder, and arm, as well as severe burns. He passed away just a few days later. The Akin Legacy Fortunately, Bob Akin’s memory is kept alive to this very day by the Bob Akin Memorial Sports Award which was established by the Road Racing Drivers Club (RRDC) in 2003. The award is exclusively reserved for drivers, both amateur and professional, who can couple “speed with style”, just as Akin did so well. Its recipients include Sam Posey and John Fitch, as well as Rob Dyson. As well as the Memorial Sports Award in his name, the racing world can take some comfort from the fact that his unique Porsche lives on, and is as good as new. Actually, it’s better than that. About The 1982 Porsche 935 Bon Akin L1 Specifications from Canepa.com: STOCK NUMBER: 2796 VIN: 935-L1 ENGINE: FLAT 6 TURBO TRANSMISSION: 4 SPEED MANUAL DRIVETRAIN: RWD MILEAGE: N/A EXTERIOR COLOR: RED INTERIOR COLOR: BLACK INTERIOR SURFACE: CLOTH ENGINE SIZE: 3.2 liter POWER RATING: 800+ horsepower BODY MATERIAL: Bonded Aluminum Monocoque with Fiberglass Body WEIGHT: 2324 lbs (1054,149 Kg) SUSPENSION: Coil-over MacPherson strut - front, coil-over trailing arm - rear TIRES: 23.5 x 10.5 - 16 front, 27 x 14 - 16 rear DIMENSIONS: 78" wide, 190.5" long Race History: 5/31/82 Coca-Cola 400 Lime Rock 23rd Bob Akin #5 6/20/82 24 Hours of Le Mans DNF Akin, Cowart, Miller #76 8/22/82 Road America 500 miles 33rd Akin, Bell #5 9/5/82 Mid-Ohio 6 Hours 4th Akin, Haywood #5 9/12/82 Road Atlanta 500 km 7th Akin, Bell #5 9/26/82 Pocono 500 miles 39th Akin, Bell #5 Photo courtesy of Canepa SpeedHolics has not been paid to write about this product or brand, nor will we profit from any purchases you may make through the links in this article. 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This 1955 Porsche 550 Spyder, is one of just 90 factory-built 550 Spyders ever made. Now for sale by A&S. Photo and video courtesy of Auxietre & Schmidt Photo by Stephan Bauer Photography SpeedHolics has not been paid to write about this product or brand, nor will we profit from any purchases you may make through the links in this article. We’re a fully independent website. We simply choose to write about products and brands that appeal to our passions, and hopefully to yours too.