Search Results

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

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

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

With Audi dominating endurance races, diesel has earned the respect of motorsport only in recent times. But there is a story that dates back to before the Second World War, when a group of designers managed to show the world that diesel engines could do much more than merely power tractors… Drawings courtesy of Massimo Grandi On 27 February 1892, Rudolf Diesel obtained the German patent no. 67207 for his engine: “Neue rationelle Wärmekraftmaschine“, the “diesel” engine. The idea was to increase the efficiency of steam engines and the first petrol engines which needed only the high temperature generated by the air compressed in the combustion chamber to ignite the fuel, thus eliminating the ignition device used in internal combustion engines. This new engine offered many advantages in terms of performance, especially its weight, but unfortunately initially it could only be used in fixed installations. And indeed we had to wait until 1903 to see the first applications of the diesel engine in the nautical field, and in 1912 for its first application on a train in Germany. After the Great War, the use of diesel engines spread quickly among heavy-duty vehicles, trucks and agricultural machinery. The first flight of a plane with a diesel engine took place in Michigan in 1928, the Stinson SM-1DX with a Packard Aero diesel engine. In the second half of the 1920s, diesel engines for cars began to be considered for production in Germany and in France, as this offered both lower consumption and the production of diesel required fewer refining processes than petrol. Finally, in February 1936 at the Berlin Motor Show, Mercedes presented the first mass-produced car with a diesel engine, the 260 D. Again in 1936, in October, at the Paris Motor Show another German company, Hanomag, presented its diesel car, the Tipo Rekord D 19. Hanomag was founded in Hanover, Germany, in 1835. The company was specialised in steam engines, but soon moved on to trains, rolling stock and agricultural equipment. In 1925, Hanomag ventured into the car market with a small utility car that was officially called the 2/10 CV, but was better known as the "Kommissbrot". Built mostly from plywood covered in fake leather to waterproof it, it was powered by a single-cylinder 500 cc engine mounted at the rear, and the Kommissbrot was one of the typical cyclecars of the time. However, it became highly popular, selling almost 16,000 cars. The success of the Kommissbrot led Hanomag to expand into the mass-production of cars. In 1928, they introduced a more conventional car, the 3/16 CV. This was replaced in 1931 by a new, small car called 1.1 Litre. However, it was the introduction in 1934 of the 1.5 litre Hanomag Rekord that led the company to success in the German car market. The Hanomag Rekord was the company’s first mid-range model, introduced as the 6/32 PS in the autumn of 1933 and taking the name Rekord in February 1934. As early as 1928, Hanomag had begun works and studies to develop a diesel engine. Initially, the engine was designed for tractors and agricultural machinery, because the then “defects” of the diesel engine, high noise levels and strong vibrations, limited its use to vehicles that didn’t have to ensure comfort for the driver. In 1936, however, the designers succeeded in creating a compact 1600 cc four-cylinder unit, suitable for installation on a road car. The engine was shown to the public at the Berlin Motor Show in 1936, but where, as mentioned, Mercedes presented a finished diesel car, the 260 D. In fact, even when the complete car was launched in October of the same year, in Paris, the Hanomag Rekord D 19 A Diesel was not in direct competition with the Mercedes 260 D, which was in a different segment, in the mid-car range and so with a lower and more accessible price for the general public. But on the market things didn't go as planned, the diesel version was hard to sell, and of the 19,000 Hanomag Rekords sold only 1,097 were powered by a diesel engine, and so wishing to promote and advertise the efficiency of its diesel engine, the Hanomag management decided to look to the sportscar world, aiming to conquer the speed record in the under two litres diesel car category. And thus came the Hanomag-Diesel-Stromlinien-Sportwagen, obtained by coupling a standard Hanomag Diesel Rekord chassis with a 1900 cc D engine. The standard D engine was designed to save fuel, not for high performance. In fact, the difficulties in adapting the technology of the first fuel injectors to achieve more power was seen as one of the weak points of the diesel engine. In any case, the team of engineers were able to develop the engine, giving it a bit more punch, but with its 40 HP it could certainly not be described as a high-performance engine, so to compensate the lack of power Hanomag worked on the weight and the aerodynamics, adopting aluminium bodywork with a tubular over-chassis. To produce and assemble the body, Hanomag turned to Wendler in Reutlingen, while for the aerodynamic design they hired Lazar Schargorodsky, and especially the man who we can consider as one of the fathers of, if not the absolute father of, the scientific application of the principles of the principles of aerodynamics to cars: the Austrian aeronautic engineer of Hungarian origins, Paul Jaray. As explained, the Sportwagen was based on the chassis and mechanics of the Rekord D19. An over-chassis in aluminium pipes was then welded to the chassis to support the body. The car designed by Jaray faithfully reproduces the diagrams in his patent which, as we know, was substantially based on the principle of a car consisting of two volumes: one bodywork base with different shapes, but with a constant winged profile, on which a second, drop-shaped volume rested. But Jaray didn’t only patent a car shape, but even a kind of handbook of aerodynamic shapes divided into longitudinal, transversal, front, rear and plan sections that could be cross-referenced and recomposed while always assuring excellent aerodynamic functions. Our Hanomag, for example, corresponds exactly to the combination QA-AA-og-511 of the patent. This same combination had been applied by Paul Jaray in a previous project: the 1923 Ley Stromlinien-Wagen. 15 years had passed between the two models, yet little had changed and Jaray remained true to his language. Here it is not a matter of style codes, but rather the continuity of the application of those shapes and those solid geometries that he felt were more aerodynamically efficient, with no concessions to appearance. However, as I wrote in previous articles, the absolute search for aerodynamic efficiency can add a personal touch of consistent beauty to these special cars, giving them an undoubted charm that still remains today, almost a century later. In any case, whatever the appearance, the aerodynamic efficiency of the Hanomag Stromlinien was demonstrated by its performance. Despite its small engine, from 8 to 9 February 1939, on a brand-new stretch of the motorway near Dessau, the Hanomag D19 Rekordwagen Diesel driven by Karl Haeberle, a Hanomag engineer, broke a total of four records: the flying 5 km at an average speed of 155.954 km/h, the flying Mile at an average speed of 155.450 km/h, and the kilometre and mile from a standing start with respective averages of 86.87 km/h and 94.481 km/h. Despite this success, the Hanomag D19 Rekordwagen Diesel fell quickly into oblivion and was later destroyed when the Hanomag facilities in Hanover were bombed, but the Rekordwagen had done what its manufacturers set out to do: to demonstrate to the world that diesel engines were able to do much more than simply power tractors, and that Hanomag was on the front line in diesel engine design. -- 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).

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

In the year in which the Bull blew out its first sixty candles, the engineer Marmiroli remembers the genesis and “behind the scenes” of the car that was born to celebrate its thirty years: a brutal, uncompromising car that hides a detail that warms even the hardest hearts. Pictures courtesy of Luigi Marmiroli Archive In 1963, Ferruccio Lamborghini set up the company that still bears his name today, and soon after presented its first creation: the 365 GTV. In 2023, celebrating the 60th anniversary of the founding of Automobili Lamborghini, under the aegis of the Audi Group, it has unveiled the brand-new Revuelto. Well, in 1993 - exactly in the middle of these two dates - with the then-owners of the US Chrysler, we presented the Diablo SE30 Special Edition to celebrate the 30thanniversary of the foundation of Automobili Lamborghini, as the official poster shows. Only 150 SEs, derived from the Diablo, were built, and were numbered with a silver plate affixed beneath the left-hand side window. Instantly christened a car that was even more of a “Diablo” than the original Diablo, it became the competition version even though it was type-approved for road use. Once again with the style input of Marcello Gandini, the aerodynamics of the base car were significantly improved. What changed the appearance was an original front bumper, a winged profile bonnet, the rear spoiler with an adjustable flap. The innovative and unusual interiors, the same for all 150 cars, came in an egregious purple colour. The specially designed paint varied the colour shade depending on the point of observation, as shown in the pictures here. The doors were made from lightweight plastic and had a small wind-up window like the closed competition cars. We deliberately removed the ashtray, the cigar lighter, the hi-fi and aircon systems: in our opinion, true drivers of a brutal car like the Diablo SE30 had to sacrifice comfort for performance. On the other hand, we added three major components that were typical of competition cars, including four-point seat belts that held both driver and passenger in rigid seats, making them feel at one with the car. In the event of an emergency, a protected button activated an extinguisher system, like the ones in Formula1 cars. A roll-over bar, required by competition regulations, and an electronic inertial system that cut off the petrol circuit in the event of a collision, made the car even safer. The test driver Valentino Balboni, alongside an engineer who was recording the data, found himself involuntarily having to check (and luckily pass) the safety test. On a country road, as ever pushing the car to the limit, he ran off the road and hit a full row of pear trees. Under the disbelieving eyes of the farmer, both men got out of the car unharmed. The over 525 HP available were hard to manage, and for this reason we adopted a brand-new TCS (Traction Control System) derived from the Formula1, which made the car stable even with sudden variations in the road hold. At a maximum speed of over 330 km/h and a 0 to 100 km/h acceleration under 4 seconds, the performance was very impressive. The S.E. significantly increased the technological contents, but I explicitly wanted to add an old, poor and non-technological component, positioned emphatically right in front of the driver. In the centre of the brand-new, ergonomic steering wheel, I had a horn button, bearing the Bull, fitted, the same one used on the first Automobili Lamborghini car, the 1963 350 GTV. The button was recovered from a dusty old warehouse… The intention was to remind the lucky Diablo S.E. owner that there was a continuity with the past that had to be maintained over time, the same mission that Automobili Lamborgini has always had: to thrill its customers.

Directly from the memories of Paolo Martin, the story of two Bugattis that never saw the light. SpeedHolics readers can judge the quality of the Turin-based designer’s design in relation to the EB110 we all know and love Photos and Drawings courtesy of Paolo Martin Archive A premise: today, the EB110 is one of the most sought-after models by collectors, selling at figures that have practically doubled in a couple of years. Yet its gestation, and its short life, were not so simple. In-house rivalry, disputes between partners, second thoughts on the design and economic problems affected its development right from the outset. Especially as concerns the bodywork lines and design: in fact, before tasking the architect Benedini (a former designer at the Bugatti factory in Campogalliano, Modena) with the revision of Marcello Gandini’s unsatisfactory design, in 1989 the initial partners (the engineer Paolo Stanzani and the industrialist Romano Artioli) had called in three other stylists in addition to Gandini: Paolo Martin, Giorgetto Giugiaro and Nuccio Bertone. In the end, Gandini’s model was chosen, he had already designed the Lamborghini Miura and Countach with Stanzani. Bertone pulled out of the competition early, while Giugiaro’s proposal was deemed unsuitable. On the other hand, Artioli liked Paolo Martin’s model very much, but for time reasons (Gandini’s model was in a more advanced design phase and the production times were tight) it couldn’t be taken into due consideration. This story is therefore the story of a design that could have led to a different Bugatti EB110 to the one that was built, certainly more innovative and highly original in style terms, but which remained in the book of dreams. Afterwards, Paolo Martin was also asked to design a small sports Bugatti with a 1300 cc central rear engine, but the events that led to the bankruptcy of Bugatti prevented it from being made. So here is the story, the behind-the-scenes and the technical and style solutions, told by Paolo Martin himself. PM1 If I remember well, I was asked to work on the study and production of a 1:4 scale model of a Bugatti super sports car in late March 1989. That was when I received a visit from Romano Artioli, accompanied by Paolo Stanzani and Dario Trucco who had been put in charge of the bodywork development. They wanted to know how I planned to interpret the theme of a car with advanced characteristics, with a view to potential production. The chassis was the one on which the EB110 was then made. This project had been commissioned also to Giorgetto Giugiaro and Marcello Gandini, who had already developed their scale 1:1 proposal. And so I interpreted the decision to contact me as the result of Artioli and Stanzani not being fully satisfied of the work done by our two famous colleagues. I threw myself into it, and in May that year (two months after the initial request) I submitted a 1:4 scale model made entirely by me on the basis of the Bugatti EB 110 technical drawings I had received at the end of March. I should say that my final design was not an exercise in style but rather a proposal suited to the taste of the time, a project that considered all the ergonomic demands, the regulations in force in the various countries, the realistic feasibility and the construction economy: so a project ready for production. In fact, I remember that when Artioli saw the model he was enthusiastic, but said he was sorry that he couldn’t take it into consideration as the development programmes of the Bugatti revival were too tight to allow second thoughts. It was a shame, because I had also designed the internal set-up, with lots of original ideas. The design philosophy was basically that of creating two separate sections between the traction area and the passenger compartment, which had a light shape ideally detached from the body. As with my other works, this design wasn’t inspired by anything. Initially it was a two-seater coupé, then transformed into a single-seater when, after Bugatti’s refusal, a small Japanese manufacturer asked me to adapt the design to their needs (they wanted to repropose the Cobra brand). But as often happens, this idea also came to nothing. The passenger compartment consisted of a tetragonal capsule, in which the steering wheel, with no steering column, was replaced by two synchronous flywheels located on the arm rests, offering a more ergonomic drive. The driver entered the car by sliding back part of the roof and lifting the windscreen. In addition, the car was transformed into a ‘barchetta’ by removing the mobile part. As regards the safety belt, the driver had a four-point seat belt incorporating an abdominal airbag which expanded outwards and one in the front seat cushion to reduce the impact of the chest on the knees. It was a simple and ergonomic design to produce. Today the style may seem a little dated, with certain aerodynamic appendages that would no longer be fashionable, but we have to remember that it is a design from 34 years ago. After the disappointments, I began to develop the idea independently, using extremely simple resources (wood, resins, plenty of elbow grease and self-confidence) and completed the job, making a real 1:1 scale model of my idea, which I called the PM1. A project that complied with the dimensions and sizes of the EB110 that many will have seen at the Turin Motor Show in 2005, or at the Essen Motor Show in 2017 or at the Turin Car Museum in 2020. BUGATTI 1300 Some time after the decision not to produce my idea of the EB110, in 1990, Artioli asked me to design a small sports coupé. Bugatti wanted to make the model on a chassis and with a 1300 cc Suzuki engine, located in the rear central part, like the Lancia Beta Montecarlo. We worked on the designs and the 1:4 scale model, which was also tested in the wind tunnel with good results. At that time, small sports coupés were all the rage, and many manufacturers saw potential future developments in this segment. Unfortunately, this project also remained only an idea, as in the meantime Bugatti had gone bust. In this case I must say I didn’t express myself to my full potential. Nothing special came out of it in style terms, other than one more car. I wasn’t enthusiastic about the project right from the start. When you start off with ideas that are not focused, things don’t come out well. You start to have constraints, you start to think, everyone chips in with their ideas. I did it, but wasn’t entirely convinced. I had realised that it was an attempt with no concrete potential for production, and so I didn’t make much effort. In my idea, there was some very minor formal research, and some rather fashionable appendices. The interesting thing was the solution for the tilt-up door, which allowed you to get out of the passenger compartment despite the little side space, as the doors of the coupé are conventionally longer.

As the Italian Air Force celebrates its hundredth anniversary, we would like to tell you about the time Gilles Villeneuve, Nelson Piquet, Bruno Giacomelli and Riccardo Patrese challenged the F-104 Starfighter fighter planes to race against their Formula 1 single seaters: it was 1981, and it was one of the most famous challenges between the knights of the air and the knights of risk Photos courtesy of Aeronautica Militare Archive When you put yourself to the test, when you approach the limits of human skill and you feel it’s still not enough. That’s when it happens: something is triggered in the mind and in the heart, a sensation of healthy and uncontrollable omnipotence of the individual, which feels like a mission on behalf of all of humanity. Going beyond is that one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind, sharing the thrill and the words of the US astronaut Neil Armstrong when he left the first human footprint on the surface of the moon. All in all, challenges are the driver of mankind. Without them, there would be no discovery, no evolution. This is why man has always been bewitched, charmed and indeed obsessed by two - both abstract yet concrete - emotions that have always fuelled our dreams: flight and speed. And while it is true that flight and speed go hand in hand in the aeronautic world, it is equally true that speed has always been identified with cars. And this is why, in the week in which the Aeronautica Militare - the Italian Air Force - celebrates its first century of history (it was founded on 28 March 1923), I have been thinking about some epic challenges between planes and cars. Authentic duels of their time, when a knight of risk, in his car, battled against a knight of the air, at the controls of his flying machine. The first in Italy to throw down the gauntlet to the sky was none other than Tazio Nuvolari: in 1931, his Alfa Romeo 8C 2300 "Monza" raced against a biplane, Vittorio Suster’s Caproni CA 100, on the Caracalla circuit. Five laps, the car on the ground and the plane in the air: the plane won. But the duel that has remained dearest to enthusiasts took place fifty years later, on 21 November 1981. The idea came from Marcello Sabbatini, chief editor of the Italian weekly motorsport magazine Rombo: the racing challenge was between the Formula 1 single-seaters of the time (Bruno Giacomelli’s Alfa Romeo, Nelson Piquet and Riccardo Patrese’s Brabhams, Gilles Villeneuve’s Ferrari) against the F-104 Starfighter fighter planes, born to intercept other planes in the sky and capable of flying at over twice the speed of sound. The race was held this time on the track at Istrana military airport (Treviso), home to the 51st Wing of the Italian Air Force. To relive the thrill of this story, I chose to use the words and memories of a man who played a key role in that day, recovering a long interview from a few years ago with the then-Major - now General - Leandro De Vincenti: not only the Starfighter’s pilot but also the man in charge of coordinating the event. “With the involvement of the Alfa Romeo engineer Carlo Chiti, we immediately assessed the performance of the Formula 1 cars: it was clear that over a short distance the cars would win, but a longer distance would have benefited the planes. And so we established that one thousand metres would be the right distance, and the duel would take place with the wheels on the ground: an acceleration contest, divided into six races". Six F-104s were in the race, with the following configurations: two in their ‘heavy-duty’ set-up, with tanks on the wing ends and two beneath the wings, which was certainly a disadvantage; two ‘clean’ planes with no external tanks, which certainly had an advantage; and two ‘intermediates’ with tanks on the end of the wings, which were more up to the challenge. Fuel allowance on board: 7000 pounds for the heavier planes, around half for the two lighter ones.” “The weather forecast for 21 November was quite good, but when we woke up there was thick fog and visibility was less than 1500 metres. Aviano, our alternative airport, where the planes would have headed for in the event of an emergency after take-off, was also covered in fog. So this wasn’t feasible either, and this is why we chose Grosseto, but which was much further away. This meant adding an extra reserve of 3000 pounds of fuel to the two ‘clean’ Starfighters". "And so I proposed a little trick to my colleagues to make a play for it in any case. The afterburner on the 104 guaranteed 60% extra thrust, but with the normal take-off up to five seconds were lost before reaching full power. Too long! But with a little play on the throttle, we could anticipate the afterburner cut-in to practically as soon as the brakes were released.” The best fighter plane performance was obtained by De Vincenti, obviously in the ‘light’ set-up (18”05). The fastest of the Formula 1 cars was Gilles Villeneuve’s Ferrari 126 CK (16”55), which had the spoilers removed to reduce the aerodynamic drag. Nelson Piquet, just crowned world champion, obtained a time of 17”45 with his Brabham BT 49C. Bruno Giacomelli’s Alfa Romeo 179C came in at 17”75, and Patrese at 19”98. “Seen from the cockpit of our fighter plan, the Formula 1s seemed like mosquitoes with the speed of a bullet: over the first 2-300 metres, they were unbeatable, no question. But then the afterburner cut in and the situation was upturned; in the end, the Formula 1s won five out of the six trials". It was a unique experience for everyone, including the audience: someone estimated that there were around 100,000 people watching. I can remember seeing people everywhere, and when Villeneuve started spinning in his Ferrari, he was literally swamped by the fans. I also remember that Gilles was the most interested in our planes, you could tell he was an enthusiast.” The challenge was launched again in 2003, in Grosseto, at the base of the 4th Wing of the Italian Air Force. This time the duel was between Michael Schumacher, who had just won his sixth world title, at the wheel of his Formula 1 Ferrari, and Maurizio Cheli, astronaut and test pilot, at the controls of his Eurofighter fighter plane. But that’s another story, which we will tell you another time. -- Alessandro Barteletti is a photographer and journalist. Through his photos, he has been revealing the reality behind news stories, as well as social and sports events, for almost 20 years. Being keen on anything that can be driven fast, on the roads or flying in the sky, he has specialized in the auto, aviation and space industries. Among his clients: National Geographic, Dallara and Italian Air Force. Alessandro currently lives between Rome - where he was born - and Modena, the heart of Motor Valley; he is the editor-in-chief of SpeedHolics Magazine.

Based on the Topolino, the early work of the great Tuscan designer anticipated many of the cornerstones of his vision, starting from the concept that a car must be designed to serve aerodynamics, and not vice versa Drawings courtesy of Massimo Grandi The little car – AKA the “Macchinetta”, as it was called – came about as a study/prototype, and is still the only example existing today. It was assembled between 1952 and 1953 by Giotto Bizzarrini while he was finishing his mechanical engineering degree at Pisa University, but contrary to what we have frequently read, it wasn’t the subject of his thesis. His thesis was on the theoretical and practical study of the engine of the Nimbus 750 motorcycle, a 4-cylinder, air-cooled model, examining possible modifications to obtain greater performance and how to adapt the chassis of the Fiat 500 to install the engine. During his thesis, Bizzarrini envisaged the possibility of using the Nimbus 750 engine for his Topolino, but as we will see he gave up on this idea. This was a car that in 1948 was adapted as a "Sports Type Barchetta" by the previous owner Amedeo Menegon; Bizzarrini bought it in 1952 and rebuilt it with the mechanic Oreste Pasqualetti from Pisa, who assembled the new aluminium bodywork designed by Giotto himself. The engine used was a 1952 500 B (No. 347591) which originally had a cast iron head (while the 500 C had an aluminium head): this was a 569 cm3 straight 4-cylinder with 16.5 HP. To increase the power, Bizzarrini replaced the head with one developed by Siata (Società Italiana Applicazioni Tecniche Auto Aviatorie) in Turin: with 2 Dell'Orto carburettors, it had a pneumatic injection system that cut in when the rpm and intake manifold depression were low, thus giving the “Macchinetta” a variable power of between 25 and 30 HP and a maximum speed of 145-155 km/h. Compared to the original position, the engine/gearbox unit was moved closer to the passenger compartment to improve the balancing of the weights of the car and use a shorter drive shaft, which would allow the front bonnet profile to be lowered. The radiator was then moved in front of and no longer behind the engine, allowing the engine to be moved closer to the bulkhead: this was the same arrangement we find in Bizzarrini’s elaboration of the Ferrari 250 Boano to set up the 1961 GTO prototype, the so-called “Papera”, and again in the Ferrari 250 Breadvan adapted from a Ferrari 250 SWB previously owned by the driver Olivier Gendebien. It is from these solutions based on purely aerodynamic choices that we have to interpret all the works of Giotto Bizzarrini the designer: this goes for his Topolino as well as all his subsequent car production. The idea was always the same: the aerodynamics had to guide the design, and therefore the shape of the car, not vice versa. “My passion for aerodynamics,” he said, referring precisely to the Macchinetta, “comes from my time at university in Pisa, where I had built an aerodynamic little car based on a FIAT Topolino chassis, which reached 150 km/h. It was there that I first heard of Kamm’s theories on the K-tail.” Giotto always based his passion for aerodynamics more on experiment than on theory. Certainly, as he states himself, he learned the theories of Kamm, Koenig and Jaray, with his 1921 patent, but from the Macchinetta onwards he applied principles that also remained unchanged in the “Papera”, the Breadvan and his Bizzarrini 5300 road version: a low front, the engine as central as possible (obviously we’re talking about front-engine cars) and a high K-tail. He said, “In the late Fifties, sports cars were still based on aerodynamics that were 40 years old, which tried to give the bodywork a winged profile, a winged profile on 4 wheels. The result was high, solid rounded fronts, hosting a front engine and low, tapered tails. I was convinced that we had to do the exact opposite: a low, tapered front to reduce the drag and prevent it from lifting up, a high K-tail to reduce the wake turbulence, improving the drag even more, as Prof. Kamm demonstrated. The cars of the time would have run better in reverse!!!” Of course, he was referring to the famous “thick wing” line that was very common from the late 1930s to the 1950s, as we can see in this example of a Fiat Stanguellini. In Bizzarrini’s very first work, in any case, we can see his special attention to Kamm’s experiments. If for instance we look at the K2 prototype designed by Kamm and built by Wendler on a 1938 Mercedes 170 V chassis, certain similarities can be found, even though Bizzarrini’s design is a modern interpretation of this. The rear end design, for example, with the rear window divided into three parts, even seems to anticipate that of the 1958 twin-shaft Fiat-Abarth 750 Monza Zagato. A similar solution had however already been seen in the 1939 Alfa Romeo 2900 8C Touring Superleggera. The rounded, egg-shaped tail is of course reminiscent of the 1951 Ferrari 166 MM/212 Berlinetta “Uovo”, designed by Franco Reggiani for Carrozzeria Fontana on specific instruction of Count Giannino Marzotto. And if we look more generally at the “Topolino”- based sports berlinettas, such as the 1949 Patriarca 750 Sport Faina or the 1948 Fiat 500 Berlinetta Maestri, we can immediately see how Bizzarrini’s shapes are far more different, already looking to a new season of Italian design. The only berlinettas that, only in design terms, can be likened to that of Bizzarrini are the 1951 Giannini 750 berlinetta, clearly inspired by the Ferrari 166 berlinetta “Panoramica” Zagato, and the Topolino 500 Panoramica, again by Zagato. Certainly, the Macchinetta was a work of his youth, and cannot be compared to his later works, but it remains a small masterpiece of design and genius. Indeed, when Enzo Ferrari welcomed Bizzarrini to Maranello in 1956, seeing his Topolino, he exclaimed: "When you have built this car and driven it over the Abetone Pass and down to Modena, you can come and work at Ferrari.” -- 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).

Ready to celebrate a big birthday (he was born on 11 March 1943), the "cowboy driver" accompanies SpeedHolics readers on an extraordinary journey: from his encounters with the greatest car manufacturers to the drivers he shared the cockpits with, he reveals the behind the scenes of a unique and unrepeatable life Photography by Alessandro Barteletti (IG: @alessandrobarteletti) It’ll tell you straight away that I’ll be spending my birthday with my family. I’m flattered to have received so many invitations and offers to organise something a bit more official, but I can’t imagine spending such an important event in any other way than with my wife, my children and grandchildren. For a driver of my generation, reaching eighty is worth twice as much, because managing to survive the races in my day was a lucky feat. And, luck in luck, I think I can say that I was part of the most brilliant era. Starting from the inventions that drastically changed our way of living and our habits. It seems incredible, for instance, when I think that I saw the very “first” television, and I can clearly remember my father saying, “One day, we’ll see people talking on the radio”. I also remember the return flight from the South African Grand Prix in 1973. Sitting next to me was Christiaan Barnard, the man who performed the first heart transplant in human history, and his wife. The first heart transplant, you get that? And today it’s a routine operation. After all, my motorsports career is also a testimonial to a unique era. Being eighty and being able to say that you spend sixty-one of those years racing cars means one thing: I was lucky - and at the same time unlucky, as there were certainly some dramatic moments too - to experience a big slice of car racing history first-hand. This is why, when I hear people talking about a race, a character, an episode, I can almost always say: “I was there”. Just think, I started racing against my friends on our bikes, just for fun, and then when I was nineteen I found myself gripping the wheel of my Alfa Romeo Giulietta Spider on the track in Monza. And that was when my passion also became my career. Do you know what it meant to be on the tracks in the Sixties, firstly as an amateur and later as a professional? The answer is as simple as it is extraordinary: getting to know and racing against drivers of the calibre of Stirling Moss, Jim Clark, Hans Hermann. On the other hand, Jochen Rindt and I practically started together: I remember that in the uphill races, he drove the Giulietta and I had the Abarth. I also raced with Dan Gurney; with John Surtees, I had the privilege of sharing the wheel of the Ferrari 512. The same thing happened with Chris Amon and Nino Vaccarella: for me, every one of them was a legend. In relatively recent years, I raced with BMW M1s and 635s in the European Touring Car Championship, with Ford Escorts and the Capri, with the Opel Commodore and the official Porsches in the Italian GT Championship, but as a professional I can say that I started and consolidated my career racing for Abarth, Ferrari and Alfa Romeo when - respectively - there was Carlo Abarth, Enzo Ferrari and Carlo Chiti’s Autodelta. What characters they were. Abarth was a cold, calculating and very scrupulous man, but with a big heart. I remember one episode, on the Vallelunga track just outside Rome: we had to test a modification to the front end, and he was convinced it would go wrong, and so he stood in the middle of a bend, just outside the trajectory, with a newspaper under his feet. As I drove past him, I was supposed to rip the paper away with the front right-hand wheel: it was his way of demonstrating that his theory - and therefore the modification we were testing - was valid and safe. I think Enzo Ferrari was fond of me, he treated me almost like a son. We had a very direct relationship, he listened to me but was always uncompromising. After the 1973 edition of 24 Hours of Le Mans, when I came in second, he cut my celebration short by saying: “Second is the first of the last places”. Carlo Chiti, on the other hand, was a “one-man-show”: everything depended on him. An extraordinary engineer, an all-round designer, but with one great limit. When improvisation was required, or when decisions implying risks had to be taken, he took a step back. His priority was to send his driver out on the track in a safe car, even if this meant that it was less competitive. And in racing, this doesn't always pay off. And talking about behind the scenes, now I will tell you the story of the cowboy hat that I wear whenever I don’t have a helmet on. Cowboys have always been my heroes, since I was a boy. I loved that sense of freedom you can breathe when you read their stories, and I was literally seduced by the idea of taming a horse (and after all, a car for a driver is like a horse for a cowboy, right?). That’s why when, in 1967, I went to the United States for the first time, as soon as I got off the plane I went to a hat shop and came out with an original Stetson on my head. When I had become a “racing” cowboy, as many had nicknamed me, I tamed a horse too... or rather, a Rearing Horse. It all began in 1969 when Enzo Ferrari called me to Maranello for the first time. After the interview with him, I went to Franco Gozzi, his right-hand man, and asked him for a Ferrari sticker. I cut the Rearing Horse out there and then, and stuck it to the side of my helmet. It’s still there today, but with a couple of changes: I added reins and turned the tail upwards. I did that at the end of 1973, when I decided to leave Maranello, ahead of the choice that the “Commendatore” would certainly have taken shortly after. That was the year of the 312 B3, a single-seater with a monocoque chassis made in England. There were all kinds of problems, from the monocoque that bent to the engine that lost power. It was the result of a team of engineers who came from Fiat, headed by Stefano Colombo, but in the end it was me and Mauro Forghieri, a great friend right up to the end, who got it working. I remember that whenever we had to do a test, we loaded it on a trailer and set off in our red 124 estate. That was my last experience in Maranello. Today people still ask me about Niki Lauda’s accident at the Nürburgring in 1976, but I always change the subject. Contrary to many fans and journalists, I never wanted to consider it to be a major event, but simply something that happened, part of my life like many other episodes. I mentioned it now just to say that, for me, going to pull a driver out of the single-seater on fire was the only possible choice: it was a matter of instinct. Who was in the car was a detail that made absolutely no difference at the time. I stared death in the face in 1991, on the Magione track during the test sessions for the Italian Prototype Championships. Something went wrong with the brakes, and I ended up beneath a guardrail. And I can still hear the voice of the first steward who ran over: “Merzario’s dead”. “F**k off!” I answered. I was still conscious, despite having fractured two cervical vertebrae, some fingers and my feet, but I couldn’t say practically anything. They took me to hospital, where I heard the chief physician say that I would never be able to walk again. But I didn’t agree: so, I had them call my mechanic, and asked him to go to the hotel and get my bag, where I kept some emergency numbers. And that was how, thanks to my trusted doctors and several weeks in halo traction, a millimetre at a time I got my life back. This is my story. I’ve done a lot, and would do it all again, with three exceptions: I wouldn’t try my hand as a manufacturer (the greatest mistake of my life), I wouldn’t send Ferrari to hell and I would accept the signings I was offered in the United States, which I never paid much attention to at the time. But even with these mistakes, I can say that I have always been true to myself.

In the year of the sixtieth anniversary of the foundation of Alfa Romeo’s glorious “racing department”, Luigi Marmiroli remembers to return of the Milan-based car manufacturer to Formula 1 racing and the personality of the great Tuscan designer, a gruff and explosive character but at the same time ironic and modest man. And with a huge love for dogs Pictures courtesy of Luigi Marmiroli Archive As I already mentioned in previous articles, I met many people from the car world during my career, and particularly in the competition field. Carlo Chiti (1924-1994), aeronautic engineer, occupies an important place, not only because of his physical size but above all for his genius and his technical yet human personality. This year is the 60th anniversary of Autodelta, which he founded in Udine in 1963. The company was soon bought out by Alfa Romeo and, once moved to Settimo Milanese, in practice became its racing department. The department that was unexpectedly closed in 1951. Many cars designed by Carlo Chiti left the newly-founded production site, and for over twenty years were protagonists in a number of championships. The main ones are shown on the cover page: from the first versions of the Alfa Romeo road cars to the 1977 Formula1. At the time, Alfa Romeo was a state-owned company, stuffed with bureaucracy, slow decision-making, personalism and intrusive trade unions. Chiti spent a long time defending himself from these issues, which somehow slowed down and hindered his work that, on the contrary, required fast, flexible decisions. Many drivers raced with Chiti’s Autodelta cars: I counted over eighty, almost all famous, both Italian and foreign. The pictures here are only of the drivers who I assisted on the track. There are other interesting stories to be told of the others. One in particular concerns Niki Lauda. Chiti and Autodelta joined the Formula 1 world supplying engines to Bernie Ecclestone’s Brabham-Alfa Romeo, the team for which Niki Lauda was the main driver. Then, the Alfa Romeo directors, who soon became unsatisfied with the partnership with Brabham, allowed Chiti to design an all-Italian Formula 1 car: the 177, AKA the Alfa-Alfa. But they asked Niki Lauda to assess the design. Niki Lauda got on his soap box after testing the car at the Le Castellet circuit in France and immediately gave his peremptory opinion: “It’s like driving a tank!”. Clearly surprised and annoyed, Chiti got his own back when, on the Zolder circuit in Belgium, his Alfa-Alfa 177, with Giacomelli on his début – it was 1979 – recorded practically the same time obtained during the test runs by the pouting world champion Niki Lauda. Despite this great début, soon afterwards Chiti almost risked seeing his Formula 1 dream disappear. Only the great popular consensus expressed during the Monza G.P., literally submerged in thousands of flyers like the one in the photograph here, allowed him to continue with his adventure. Starting from 1977, I had the pleasure and the honour - along with my partner Giacomo Caliri at Fly-Studio in Modena - to become an external technical consultant for Chiti, until the end of 1984. I therefore had all the time in the world to get to know him well. This is why I would like to devote this article to him. I remember that when we went to meet Chiti for the first time, during the journey to Settimo Milanese we had imagined we would be welcomed by an elegant secretary and accompanied into his grand executive office. Quite the opposite. Chiti was sitting behind a small black desk overflowing with folders containing his many projects “in progress”. He played nervously with the folders as he spoke. The office was a small room where, in addition to two simple chairs, there was a glass cabinet and a coffee table with a telephone on it. A small window poorly lit the room, stuck between the Design office and the Workshop. Ironic and gruff, like many Tuscans, we were immediately bowled over by his warmth and great modesty. An unrepentant dog-lover, next to Autodelta he had set up a kennels for stray dogs, looked after by his veterinary friends. The left-overs from the employees’ canteen ended up directly in the kennels, and some of these dogs wandered freely around the site. Often he would invite me for dinner at home, where his mother-in-law was a splendid cook. This was how I had the chance to appreciate his immense culture, that went beyond the technical. After dinner he would relax in an armchair with one of his two beloved dogs. With his permission, I took a photo - attached here - where you can see all his huge passion for these animals. He was always hungry, and loved to eat with friends. During the lunch breaks at the grand prix, he would quickly wolf down what was in his own plate and then reach over with his fork to steal the food from the other people’s plates. A free spirit, during his career Chiti came up against much criticism, which he always thought to be absolutely unfounded. His reaction to this was often immediate and explosive. But he calmed down quickly, with a wonderful phrase that derived from his Tuscan origins. Although hard to translate, I hope the contents can be understood. Of his critics, he would say: “They’re so stupid that even in the stupid championships they’d come in second.”

After the historical agreement signed with the Ford Motor Company, it didn’t take long for the streets of the ex- Soviet Union to fill with cars derived from American models. However, some engineers and designers worked on far more personal projects, creating sports cars and original aerodynamic studies. Drawings courtesy of Massimo Grandi The history of car production in the ex-Soviet Union is certainly not renowned for its originality. On the other hand, we should remember that on 30 May 1929, the Ford Motor Company signed a historical agreement for the production of cars in the Soviet Union. The contract established that Ford would oversee the construction of a production plant in Nizhny Novgorod, on the Volga River, for the production of the Ford Model A. From that moment on, Soviet cars produced by the large car manufacturers, including GAZ (Gor'kovskij Avtomobil'nyj Zavod) from 1929 and later ZIS (Zavod Imeni Stalina), from 1946, proposed models that, stylistically and technically speaking, were directly derived from or greatly inspired by similar American models, of course starting from the Gaz A, a clone of the Ford Model A. This aspect also had an immediate impact on the sports car world, again based on mass-produced models. One typical example was the 1938 GAZ GL-1. Produced in 1938, this racing car, based on the model GAZ-M1, in turn based on the 1934 four-door sedan Ford Model B 40A, was the fastest Soviet racing car before the war. The original GAZ-M1 engine was enhanced, to 65 HP instead of 50 HP. After some tests, it was replaced by a new 6-cylinder 100 HP engine taken from the GAZ-11, and some details were re-designed (new wheel trims, a dome above the driver’s head, rounded grilles). With the original 65 HP engine, the top speed was 148 km/h but the 100 HP engine helped it to reach 162 km/h. Although this new record was quite modest, not surpassing even the results of the Tsarist Russia drivers, it was in any case an authentic turning point for Soviet motor sports enthusiasts. The first exception to this rule was seen a few years earlier, in 1934, when the engineer Alexei Nikitin Osipovich built an aerodynamic car in his garage based on a GAZ A, the GAZ A-Aero. In 1933, Alexei Nikitin (1903-1974) was appointed to the Russian Military Academy to study aerodynamics. He conducted in-depth research into the design and production of sports cars around the world, even building a small-scale wind tunnel where he performed many simulation experiments on aerodynamic drag models. Until, in 1934, he decided to build a 1:1 scale model, seeking to apply the best results achieved during the experiments. The wooden over-chassis was covered with metal plates. The standard engine was improved with an aluminium head and an increased compression ratio. The speed of the car did not yet match that of other sports cars, but in terms of design and aerodynamics it was a significant and original moment in the Soviet panorama in the early ’30s. After the Second World War, along with its industrial production, the Soviet car sports world gradually returned to business. It was a long and arduous process, as many eminent designers from the pre-war era had become designers of military equipment throughout the hostilities, including A. Pukhalin and A. Nikitin. However, from 1946 some designers drove the creative revival of the Soviet car world, V. Rostkov at ZIS and A. Smolin at GAZ. Already in 1938, the first car sketches by designer Valentin Brodsky, developed in 1940 by Vladimir Aryamov, which revealed a growing trend towards a more modern car design in the Soviet Union, were for a two-door coupé, the GAZ-11-80 which in fact anticipated the later GAZ Pobeda, identical in many aspects. However, following the German invasion in 1941, the military priorities delayed the work on the new car, and the factory began to produce military items. The first Pobeda was developed in the Soviet Union in 1946, overseen by chief engineer Andrei A. Lipgart. Originally intended to be named "Rodina" (Homeland), the name "Pobeda" (Victory) was then preferred by Joseph Stalin. The name was chosen also because the works began in 1943 when the victory of the Second World War began to seem probable, and the car was intended to be a post-war model. The GAZ-M20 "Pobeda" was produced in the Soviet Union by GAZ from 1946 to 1958. Although it was usually known as the GAZ-M20, the designation of an original car at that time was simply M-20: M for "Molotovets" (the GAZ factory took its name from Vyacheslav Molotov). The styling was curated by the car designer Alexander Kirillov, the graphic artist Veniamin Samoilov and the above-mentioned Andrei Lipgart. The GAZ-M20 Pobeda was one of the first Soviet cars with an original design, and was also one of the first cars to introduce the ponton style with compact sides, ahead of many western manufacturers. In technical terms, the engineers in the factory in Gorky used a 1938 Opel Capitan, captured in late 1941, as the basis for their studies. (FIG 6) The M20 Pobeda was also the first Soviet car to use completely original moulds. The first production model left the assembly line on 21 June 1946. It was also the first Soviet car to have turn signal indicators, two electric (rather than mechanical or vacuum) windscreen wipers, four hydraulic brakes and an AM radio installed in the factory, and over time became a symbol of post-war life in the Soviet Union. Of course, this new, modern car paved the way for sports versions. The first place certainly goes to the "Pobeda-Sport" “Victoria”, a two-seater sport coupé, created specifically for racing in the 1950s. The Pobeda-Sport was an experimental car that was constantly updated for Soviet racers so that they could achieve the best results. In 1955, the car could reach speeds of up to 180 km/h. On 8 September 1956, the Torpedo-GAZ factory racing team, with testers Gorky Vyacheslav Mosolov and Alexander Efremychev, won the silver medal in the individual category of the USSR road championships. Although powerful and fast, in terms of design and aerodynamics the car was nothing new, the mere transformation of the sedan into a two-seater roadster. The ZIS factory also worked on the design of a sporting prototype, the 1051 ZIS-112 concept. The car, known as the Cyclops, was designed by Valentine Rostkov. The two-seater prototype was principally inspired by the US concept car GM LeSabre, again from 1951. The car had a removable rigid roof and was powered by a 140 HP V8 engine. The car was subsequently equipped with an experimental 186 HP V8 engine with four carburettors; it also had an oil radiator and a rapid manual ignition control system. In December 1948, a special USSR governmental decree was issued, prohibiting the use of foreign technology in competitions. The measure was taken after a series of serious accidents, some fatal, involving the Auto Union Sports, the spoils of war. Although forced to start from scratch, the Soviet designers had since learned from German research, demolishing and studying some of the German cars in detail, understanding the importance of aerodynamic applications in racing cars. The designers began to work on the rationalisation of car forms already experimented in Europe, without making any fundamental changes to the engines, gearbox and chassis but improving the aerodynamics, with faired rear wheels (and also front wheels on some models), eliminating edges, plates and other protruding parts, incorporating the mudguards and especially trying to give the body the most penetrating shape possible. Aged 43, Alexei A. Smolin joined Gaz in 1950. A designer with significant experience in the aeronautical - and therefore the aerodynamic - field, having designed the aircraft KSM-1 with a GAZ-M engine (1935), seaplanes (1937), and an airplane with a six-cylinder engine, the GAZ-Air (1938). His first design was the new sporting version of the Pobedo M-20, the GAZ M-20 Pobeda Sport SG -1 (1950). With Smolin, the M-20 bodywork underwent a significant transformation, as can be seen in this drawing, with the compared profiles; only the chassis and wheelbase remain unchanged. The body is compacted into a long, tapered profile at the rear, the ponton mudguards draw an elongated drop shape with faired front and rear wheels, the roof is low and also extends rearwards into the long, narrow tail. The front is low and flat, with a low, wide air duct grille. The only element reminiscent of the original sedan is the engine hood, raised upwards with two “nostril” shaped air ducts for the carburettors. Although large (5680 mm long, 1695 mm wide, 1480 mm high with a 2700 mm wheelbase), the car didn’t weigh much, just 1,200 kg. Like the pre-war GAZ-A-Aero and the GAZ-GL1, the steel was replaced by aeronautical aluminium and duralumin. Incidentally, the SG1 was the first Soviet sports car not to be produced in a single model, and in fact five were made. The GAZ Torpedo SG-2 In 1951, it was again Smolin who invented the only design of the new GAZ development: the SG-2, known by the general public as the Torpedo. The drop-shaped aerodynamic body was nothing like the GAZ - Pobeda-Sport SG-1. Smolin introduced the “lenticular” form, with two shells joined on the median line of the body. This lenticular form was then used in 1952 on the Alfa Romeo 1900 C52 "Disco Volante", in 1954 on the Jaguar type D and later in Donald Campbell’s 1962 Bluebird-Proteus CN7. It was a completely new design, literally created from scratch. While developing his design, Smolin used advanced aeronautical mathematics and technologies. In the plan view, the profile was reminiscent of a cuttlefish, but in fact it was an attempt to get as close as possible to the elongated drop shape, which for a solid immersed in a fluid theoretically has a cx of 0.0. In the side profile, this drop shape is extremely clear. Here too, both the front and rear wheels are faired. The roof is very low, again with a drop profile that stretches to the tail, crowned by a thin, vertical stabiliser fin. The rounded front has an air duct made directly in the body, with no grille. Also in this case, if we compare the side profile with that of the Pobeda sedan, we can see other changes in the aerodynamics compared to the Pobeda sport SG 1. This car was much lighter than the previous model. The body was made from duralumin profiles coated in aluminium sheet. The body was 6250 mm long, 2070 mm wide and 1200 mm high. The car weighted 1100 kg. The standard M20 engine volume was increased to 2487 cc, and a Roots-type compressor and a drive shaft were installed, like those on the Pobeda-Sport, consisting of two parts separated by an intermediate support. It also had a three-speed gear with no synchronisers, an SV valve and only one carburettor. The car was relatively powerful: 105 HP at 4000 rpm. The top speed of the Torpedo was 190 km/h. While in technical and performance terms, the Gaz Torpedo was certainly nothing significant, in terms of shape on the other hand it was a true “revolution”, as we can see even better by comparing the profiles of the previous “sport” model. Starting from scratch, A. Smolin re-designed the shape starting from the mathematical application of aerodynamic principles. In some aspects, it reminds us of that revolution introduced by Malcom Sayer on the plans of the Jaguar XK 120 C with the new model XK Tipo D. A car, a design, that stands out not only within the context of Soviet production but also European and international production. I would like to end with a last drawing, taken from a period photo, where we can see the three fundamental models of this interesting history all together: the Gaz Torpedo, the Gaz Sport and the Gaz M20.