Bugatti Tipo 35

Bugatti Tipo 35

So why does the title use the Italian “Tipo” rather than English? Cause, though we tend to forget, Ettore and his brothers, though what they built was in France, were Italians! He was born in Milano and did not move to Alsace, France until he was 20.

At any rate, this article triggered my recollection of interactions with these magnificent cars.https://drivetribe.com/p/the-legendary-bugatti-type-35-DfH_zTPoRWm-KMYiFiLg0Q?iid=QnxJJFJsRwe3qI8Y4UQqJgAt first all I thought of was the ones I raced with (or, in at least a few cases, against) but then I realized I actually personally knew the owners of several others and was familiar with their cars as well.

The racing relationship came first. For many years Steve Earle tried to recreate his successes in historic racing in Monterey with a similar event at Seats Point, in Sonoma County.

It should have been a breeze but over many decades it has never really “taken off,” and the latest iteration is being attempted by Jeff O'Neal, who owns Ramsgate Winery across from the track.

At first it was called “The Sonoma Classic,” but a difficult initial involvement with the town of Sonoma caused by massive traffic tieups as technical inspection was attempted on “The Square” in downtown left a bad impression and many years of lack of interest by the town. So the event was renamed the “Wine Country Classic” and then, when things cooled a bit, a link was re-established through a charity affair held on that same square at which race cars were selected to be displayed. I had the pleasure of riding with friends to these events a number of times and, on one occasion, my Siata actually participated in the display. These memories likely warrant their own blog entry at some other time.

For much of its early history the sub-liter sports racers were combined with “pre-war” cars in a single grid. I should clarify that “pre-war” covered pretty much everything from about 1914 to the onset of WWII for the US. This rather eclectic race included everything from cars such as a 1916 National and Model T

Ed Archer and his T Speedster
Note how he looks the part
Flikr Photo

In the early days you needed a riding mechanic to pump the oil and fuel
From Tam's Old Sports Car site

through some much more seriously hairy machines such as Peter Gddings's Alfa Romeo Monza as photographed by my friend Bob Dunsmore at the event in 1995.

He's not really off in the weeds
Peter never was
Bob Dunsmore Phorograph from peter giddings.com

On these occasions there were often several Bugattis in the grid. These are often difficult to tell apart as they might share the same or very similar bodies but rather different power plants in terms of potency. The Tipo 35 came in multiple guises and revisions, the most modest of which featured a 1500cc four cylinder motor (though designated Tipo 37) and the most powerful having a 2.3 liter straight eight punched out from the original 2 liters supercharged Tipo 35B. Bewildering. 

Of course, on the grid, unless I tried to memorize the numbers and engine variants of the cars I was with (a hopeless task for me) I had no idea what was in the blue car (and by far they were allpretty much French blue) either I was catching or which was coming up behind me. But if it caught and passed me I could usually assume it was nota four cylinder un-supercharged 37.

An interesting note about the make is that they have a fantastic owner's club which even manufactures new parts for the cars. In fact, it is actually possible to build one from these new parts, and the club will allow it to be registered as long as an “R” is added after the type designation. Thus it was that Dave Willis built a 37R from these parts...I have no knowledge of what, if anything, on the car was original “in period” parts. 

What I do know is that my 750cc Siata was more than a match for the Tipo 37, and I always thought this told an interesting story for spectators. This car, dating from 1928, had twice the displacement and about the same horsepower as the Siata, though with mechanical rather than hydraulic brakes. In part due to this as well as a no doubt higher center of gravity and lack of independent suspension. At any rate I was always able to get ahead of any of these in my race. If I could not I could guarantee I would learn later the car was not a 37 but was either a supercharged 37A or one of the similar looking Tipo 35 variants.

Later on my friend and mentor Ernie Mendicki completed his dream stable of cars by acquiring a four passenger Tipo 40 “Gran Sport” Bugatti. It shared the same motor as the Tipo 35...an un supercharged straight four. 

Though shown as an eight cylinder Tipo 43
This looks identical and in the same color as Ernie's 40
See what I mean about identical looking bodies?
From Wikipedia

I always thought the car was a bit awkward looking with its longer wheelbase and particularly with the top up, but it was Ernie's pride and joy and, after all, a wonderful and rare bird.

I learned from him how complex these cars really are. Not only did Bugatti make their own nuts and bolts, with square heads and custom thread pitches, but, for example, Ernie told me that to adjust the brakes you start by removing the differential!

Both Mike Cleary and Peter Giddings owned Bugattis. In Peter's case the one I remember of the several he owned at one time or another was a Tipo 59, the same model owned by Mike. What I remember most about it was how long and low it seemed compared to the 35 and 37, and though the wide spoked wheels are so characteristic of Bugatti, the wires on the 59 and the overall engineering and design of the wheels were to me just stunning. 

Tipo 59
From petergiddings.com
Mike Sims Photo

I never got to ride in any of these gorgeous beasts. I do, however, feel fortunate to have been on track with some of them and being able to watch them up close and in ways they were meant to be used. They are truly the “pre war Ferrari” of machinery.

Lost on a Navy Base

Lost on a Navy Base

Twice!

The base was North Island Naval Air Station,

Courtesy Wikipedia

on Coronado Island, just across the high rise bridge from San Diego.

Another Wikipedia Shot

Starting in about 1987 the Navy, as part of Fleet Week or the Holiday Bowl, hosted a vintage sports car race on an airport course laid out and sanctioned by Steve Earle's General Racing Ltd. I participated in the first of these events as well as several others over the next decade or so.

It was always a long haul to San Diego when towing a race car. As I look at what I guessed was the starting year for the event I realized I did not have our Lance truck camper then, so I have no idea where we slept during the long, three day event. And perhaps for at least the early ones, we hauled down there in a long, 15 hour day. Once we bought the camper we of course slept in it and also split the drive over two days. Thus it was a full week...leaving on Wednesday, arriving on Thursday to set p, then repeating the two day drive back and arriving home the following Tuesday.

The first couple of times we would “caravan down” on I5 across the notorious Grapevine over the Tehachapi Mountains into and through the LA basin. In fact, now that I recall it, on that first neither my friend Don (Baldocchi) nor Gary (Winiger) was willing to take their cars (Nardi/Crosley and Siata 300BC/Fiat 1100), so Don towed my Siata on its open trailer behind his 40 foot motorhome and we all slept in that.

And it was “the trip from hell.” This was back when the state got the brilliant idea to put an additive called MTBE in fuels, supposedly to increase fuel efficiency. This was despite advice from automotive experts that the gain was negligible and that the additive would rot fuel lines, cause fires, and get into the water supply. It was not until it started showing up in Lake Tahoe that the state backed off, after first claiming the problem was due to personal water craft.

Anyway, at one point I looked back through the read view camera and noticed smoke pouring off my beautiful blue painted car. We pulled over and found the car smothered in slick and smelly diesel fuel. It seemed a fuel line had indeed sprung a pinhole leak. This occurred on lonely Pacheco Pass where, heading East, once you passed the Casa da Fruta tourist stop there was nothing until you got to I5, and nothing much there as well.

While we did have cell phones there was virtually no coverage, and only one of us managed to get enough of a signal to make a call...but the provider would only accept a charge card, AMEX at that, which only Gary had. We finally connected with a repair company (fortunately Don had insurance to cover such service), but they were a long time coming while we “cooled our heels” by the side of the road.

Once we got to the track, at some point we went to open the door on the motorhome and the handle came off in our hands. Another couple of hours figuring out a way in and a means to fix the door.

For the first event the Navy had relegated us to a rather run down airstrip on one edge of the island. While there are multiple airfields on the base this one was, I think, semi-abandoned and thus thought to be safer for us as well as not interfering with any needed operations of the base. The problem was it was also gritty and so rough it might as well not have been paved.

Many racers had their windshields pitted beyond repair, and my car was one of many to suffer mechanical failure due to the broken up surface. There was one place where the car would totally leave the ground. Not thinking of what the impact would be on a spinning axle and wheel assembly upon landing I did not take my foot off the throttle when that occurred. It did not take long for the axle to snap. Fortunately it broke at its weakest point, which happens to be where the Fiat axles have a narrowed wrist just before the splines into the differential. I say fortunately because, breaking at that end does not result in losing the wheel, which would no doubt damage the fender and be a lot more dangerous than merely winding up with the car behaving like it was in neutral rather than in gear...no power getting to the road.

Of course this happened at an inconvenient place on the track where the tow vehicle was unable to get to me without holding up the entire event...so I was left out there for the full race day, only getting collected at the end of the day's activities. I also later learned that the outer splines, to which the brake and wheel assembly attached, were actually twisted by the continued impacts. A total and complete disaster.

The Navy (and Steve) learned their lesson and, from then on, the race was held at a much better maintained part of the facility, though it meant shutting down one of the airfields.

Then there was the trip home. The only alternative to driving through LA would be to go out in the desert on I8 and 15, and then US395 and another road back across the mountains after Mojave to again connect with I5...adding, at least in theory, at least another hour to an already tedious trip. Of course Don opted to not do that, and given the realities of driving through LA it took three hours to traverse that nightmare.

Many hours later it began a steady rain, which accompanied and harried us all the way into the Bay Area, where we encountered yet another traffic tied up on I280 on the Peninsula heading for my place in San Carlos. Oddly, I don't recall dropping Gary off in Mountain View so perhaps he picked up his car at our house and back-hauled home.

I put the Siata into the garage and stowed the trailer behind the fence in a downpour. It then quit raining and did not rain again at all that day. It just figures....Murphy was indeed an optimist.

Oh yeah...this was supposed to be a post about getting lost on the Navy base.

The Navy was a very good host. We were feted with a welcome party at an Admiral's house with a n outdoor meal served by smartly dressed enlisted personnel, and entertainment by a Navy band. The closing ceremony was always on the empty hangar deck of an active service aircraft carrier, and we were also escorted for private tours of the boat afterwards. Many Navy officers, including the XO and Captain of the carrier were the honored guests. The opening flag ceremony was pretty impressive as well, as the honor guard appeared on one of the airplane elevators. My recollection is that the elevator rose up from below so you first saw the flags before the sailors holding them, though that does not seem possible unless there were two hangar decks, one below the other. At any rate it was an impressive sight. Over the years I remember the Constellation (the only non-nuclear carrier I was one), the Stennis, and the Reagan, but I somehow think there is one more I can't recall.

Ah...getting lost. Once I had the camper it would have been clumsy to move it for any reason as it was well wedged into my pit area and, of course, once I also acquired a closed trailer with all my tools and support gear I generally tried to keep it connected to the truck if I had enough room. So I needed to “mooch” a ride with someone in order to attend the welcoming party. The admiral's house, of course, was some distance from the airfields, and it is surprising just how much territory a facility like Coronado NAS occupies. I would guess the house was at least a mile or more from the course, and of course we would not have been allowed to just stroll around by foot even were we willing to walk.

So at one event Don Martine graciously offered to take us (I think by then this included both Don and Gary, who had decided that, even after our first disastrous trip that it would be fun to do the event) in a four passenger early MG he owned, perhaps this one:http://www.martineinnmotorsports.com/1929_mg_speed.html. Don normally raced the ex-VonNuemann, ex-Al Moss famous #11 MG special, which he upgraded considerably from when Al had it and also was racing it that weekend, so I am unsure by what means this “more practical” car, if any early MG can be so designated, got to the event.

Don Martine
From Tam's Old Race Car Site

We quickly got lost, probably by missing a turn, and as is true with most ancient pre-WWII cars, the headlights were all but useless in the gathering gloom. We were just pulling over to attempt to again decipher the rather rudimentary map we had been given with our invitations when a dark blue “U.S. Navy” car was on us “like a duck on a June bug.” I suspect a 1930s English sports car on spindly wire wheels is a bit obvious, as when the two Shore Patrol men approached us the first thing they said was “Lost, are we?” They were very polite and pointed us back to the turn we had missed and sent us on our way. We were a bit surprised that the place was so heavily patrolled, at least that evening, that they were on us so quickly. It was a guess, but we suspected that anyone who turned off the map route from the track would have been similarly approached almost immediately.

The second time was not quite as innocent...nor amusing. Best I recall it occurred post-9/11. The race weekend an Fleet Week took place in early October, and understandably was cancelled in 2001 in the aftermath of that tragic day. But we were still a resilient people at the time and the Navy decided to go ahead with the event the very next year. They were also very cautious for the first one. All of us entering the base were routed into an impound area manned by heavily armed Shore Police where the truck, camper, and trailer were thoroughly searched including by dogs while we stood outside the vehicle under observation by one of the “SP” officers. And once we entered the paddock area we were under impound and no vehicle was allowed out until the weekend was over.

These rules were relaxed after that. But the police patrols were not.

It was another less-than-stellar weekend for me. This time Sherri decided to come down to San Diego, but she did not want to spend two days getting there. So she and Gary's wife Catherine decided to fly down together, rent a car to come to the track, and then share a motel room and play a bit around the area.

Unfortunately, I discovered a problem with the car which made me so un comfortable that, other than the practice session on Friday, I decided to not run further. This was not a failure of preparation. It was something which would have been difficult to impossible to discover prior to driving on the track.

Adin had been the previous driver of the car...it was one of his first, if not the first, outing in it. If the first it would have been Fernely, Nevada, and if not it would have been Laguna Seca rather than Sear Point.

How do I know that? By the symptoms the car showed at Coronado.

If you are to survive in what is the obviously dangerous sport of racing old cars you need to hone your observational powers sharply. Overlook nothing and take nothing for granted. What can happne often will.

Fernley and Laguna are both run in a counter-clockwise direction. Coronado and Sears on the other hand are clockwise tracks. After Adin's outing we noticed oil on the right rear brake and axle assemblies, from the spring perch outwards to the wheel. The Siata has axle seal setups which are, at best, marginal, even including a cover with a little “trough” which does a great job of dripping any oil which gets past the seal...right onto the brakes and wheel. A counter-clockwise track means most turns are left handers. Thus the right side of the car, through centrifugal force, gets the highest loads, and any liquids will sling towards that side.

No big deal, we thought. Except Coronado runs in the opposite direction. What I noticed was that the oil was getting slung from the spring perch to the differential housing...opposite form what had happened previously. My preliminary conclusion, verified when I disassembled the rear end, was that that axle housing, which was made up of multiple parts, had cracked at the spring perch.

Bob Graham had lowered the car when he took care of it...unfortunately without asking me. Worse, he had used hardware store “all thread” rods to replace the custom made “U” bolts which held the rear axle to the sub frame of the car. In order to lower the car aluminum spacers which rode above the axle housing had to be removed, necessitating different length mounting bolts. “All thread' have threads running their entire length, and the threads are cut rather than rolled and are quite sharp. They had cut their way through the housing. Of course when I got things repaired I had new (and costly) U bolts fabricated.

When I told Sherri I was not racing she was upset.

“You mean I came all the way down here to watch you and now you are not going out?” She was incredulous.

“Do you want to watch me race, or die?” I queried. I did not feel it was safe to take the chance, and the oil I was slinging was unfair and dangerous to other drivers. Non-racers often don't understand.

Anyway, on Saturday a group of us decided to go into town for dinner. Jamie Pfeifer had a rather quick 600cc Berkely

Jamie at Speed
Looks like Coronado
Might be Steve Earle Behind him but not for long
From Tam's Old Race Car Site

powered by a Royal Enfield motorcycle motor and was part of our informal “H” Mod small car racing group. Best I recall he had the van the “guys” jumped into to go into town, though I might be wrong as he and his wife Jan usually stayed in their very nice “Lazy Daze” class C motorhome. At any rate there was at least Jaime, Gary, Don, and me...I think. The ladies clambered into Sherri's rental car and off we went.

We managed to get off the base just fine, and had no problem getting back past the entrance gate as well. But then confusion set in.

Airfields are, of course, flat. At night the field was a maze of lights...white, red, blue, green...many in lines at right angles to us or marching off in various other directions. It was almost impossible to get a sense of direction or heading. We were following the rental car when an orange van with a flashing amber light intercepted Sherri at an angle. We stopped behind while some sort of conversation between the van driver and Sherri ensued, but of course we could not hear it. Then the van started off at the reverse of the angle of interception, with Sherri following.

Now what? Had they been arrested? What were we supposed to do? We were still lost and now more uncertain than ever.

“Just keep going” someone said. So we did...we got another hundred yards or so before the same orange van cut us off. Whoever was driving rolled down the window and was facing a rather large, very irate and very large woman in fatigues.

“You were supposed to follow me!” She shouted rather angrily. “You are on an active taxiway!” and, unsaid, we were holding up aircraft operations, as we could see a two engined prop plane idling nearby, though of course we had no sense of where it was planning to go relative to our path.

She was in no mood to hear that our confusion was actually her fault for not having Sherri wait while she circled back to instruct us. We sheepishly followed her off the taxiway and she then escorted us back onto the route to the paddock.

Kind of hard to know where the “road” is when everything is paved in concrete and it is only marked by white striping you can't see in the dark. We were lucky we didn't get run over by an Osprey...and I don't mean one with feathers!

The 250TR and the 250GTO

The 250TR and the 250GTO

It's hard to imagine how valuable these cars have become. It is also hard for me to realize how much of a relationship I had to them from the time I joined the Ferrari Owners Club in 1979 through the first few years of my entree into vintage racing.

First, the 250TR. The number, in one of the two model designation schemes used by Ferrari throughout the company's history, refers to the approximate displacement of a single cylinder. The “TR” refers to “Testa” and “Rossa,” meaning literally “red head,” and not “Testarossa” or “redhead,” which is a marketing model name used in the 1980s for a completely different kind of car.

The designation in the 50s was used to indicate that the cam covers were painted red on some, but not all, Ferrari competition models. In addition, foxy Enzo used even serial numbers on race versions and odd numbers for “production cars.” Keep this fact in mind as it will become important when I mention the GTO.

Most people thought of Ferrari as synonymus to the iconic V12 which started as a two liter motor (thus a 125 model designation) and continues to this day with such models as the 550 Maranello...a monster (by Ferrari standards) 6.6 liter. But the TR designation actually was first used on a two liter, four cylinder car (blasphemy!). The 500TR was produced along with a dizzying array of other models all sharing very similar looking bodies...the numerous Monza, Mondial, and MM variants of the mid 1950s. But in 1958 Ferrari was ready for something different, and his usual race car design firm of Scaglietti sculpted the curvaceous lines of the 250TR, which used a single overhead camshaft Colombo V12 with six two barrel Weber carbs. This, possibly the most famous and successful motor Ferrari ever built, went into many race and street cars of the era, continuing through the 1964 GTO and even beyond that with enlargement to 275cc per cylinder in the 250LM and 275 GTB, and then to the 330 series cars. In fact, the motor also could be easily modified to carry four camshafts, as it did for the 275GTB/4, and even continued to be enlarged to 365 variants. By moving from so-called “hairpin” valve springs to more conventional coils, and by using different combinations of carbs and intake manifolds, the engine could be boosted from less than 250 to more than 400hp. It was produced in one form or another in this “final” 250 guise from 1960 until well into the 1970s. 

A Four Cylinder Ferrari?
Absolutely
A 500 Testa Rossa
From Conceptcarz

One form of 250TR, arguably the prettiest and certainly the most famous, had sculpted cutouts behind the front fender for more efficient brake cooling and air flow, and is known as “Pontoon Fendered.” Again, arguably, one of the best known was owned and lovingly brought back to its original body shape and condition by David Love, and David raced it from the late 1960s until his Parkinson's Disease finally forced him to stop. 

David on the Corkscew
Monterey Historic Autombile Races
From Tams Old Sports Car site

I have a short but deep link to this car, and perhaps a deeper one to David. He was my first driving instructor when I joined the Classic Sports Racing Group (CSRG) in 1983. I might have met David through the FOC, but most of my memories of him and the car start with my earliest days with the Siata and CSRG, of which he was one of the founders.

I don't recall anymore which of the following events happened in which order. I do remember both of them as clearly s if they happened today (though at this point in my life perhaps that isn't saying much), though the events were 40+ years ago.

The first one, or maybe it was the second, was a “follow the leader” series of laps at Sears Point. Actually, as far as I can remember, both events happened at this track. Anyway, David would lead a small group of us around to show us “the racing line” around the 12 turns. I put that in quotes because, of course, as you gain racing perspective and experience you realize there is no one single correct line for all cars in all circumstances, but what David was no doubt trying to do was keep us from hurting ourselves by picking lines that would be safe if not necessarily the quickest way round for each of our cars.

We would all line up behind David and, after a lap or two, the first car behind him would pull to the side, the others would move up, and the former first car would drop to the back of the group, thus giving each of us a chance to be directly behind our instructor. When it was my turn I had to fight to keep from just being mesmerized by the sound out of those stinger exhaust tips and the light off the voluptuous curves of the car. I am, after all, a photographer with years of training my eyes to concentrate on composition, color, light, shadow, and movement.

When we came in after the session David asked me if I had learned anything.

“Yeah,” I replied...”that car is just bloody gorgeous.” We both laughed in appreciation.

The second event (or maybe it was the first) was an actual ride around Sears in the car. I recall we did several laps, and in part due to the wind noise, in part due to David's quiet and calm voice, and in part because I was overloaded on the sights, sounds, feel, and smells I did not pick up much in the way of driving points...yet again. But I remember clearly, when I sat down in the passenger seat, taking note of the coin drop from an ancient pinball game which David had fastened under the dash on that side of the car. It was a forged brass piece with a nickel or quarter sized slot in it, and “Insert coin to begin game” embossed onto it. Unfortunately I did not take, nor can I find, a picture of it, but I sat there and stared at it the whole way down pit lane, only pulling my eyes off it when we hurtled into turn 2.

Totally summed up David's attitude about the sport, and was the biggest and most enduring lesson I got from him.

I was not confused when I bought my 2+2. I was well aware that the same basic components of the motor in this car were shared with both the 250TR and the 250GTO. The main differences (aside from the move away from hairpin valve springs) is that the cam in those cars was more aggressive, and my 250 had three two barrel Webers while both the TR and the GTO had six two barrel units and, of course, different intake manifolds. But the rest was very similar, and beneath those carbs the engines looked virtually identical, though the SOHC cam covers on the TR were of course red and not black.

Oh yeah, those cam covers. Why are the ones on the GTO black? Why indeed does is the serial number odd rather than even? Canny old Enzo at work again.

To be accepted as a “production” model and thus allowed to race in the GT rather than Prototype class, the FIA rules at the time required a production run of 50 units. Well, in 1962 and 1963 Ferrari managed to squeeze out what I believe was 34 only. I'm not sure how many still exist, but every one is now a $40-50 million work of art.

I have never ridden in one.

Hell, I've never even sat in one.

But I have peeked into a number of them, and learned something interesting by doing so.

One day I had my 2+2 in for some work at Bill Morton's Modena Motors in Redwood City, and sitting there was a dark blue GTO, obviously builtfor endurance races such as LeMans, as there was a number light on one of the doors and the rear deck. When I asked whose it was Bill's mechanic pulled the registration from the glove box. To my surprise the serial number was 4219GT. My own car was 4217. Since “production” cars used serial numbers ending in odd digits, this car was right behind my 2+2 on the production line, and was being built at the same time as my car.

So though Enzo promised to build 50 of these “production” models (hah!)...by the end of 1963 he had not. But in the “if it quacks like a duck” line of reasoning, he named it “GTO” (Grand Turisimo Omologato”) to indicate it was homulgated as a production GT even though it really did not meet those specifications in terms of production numbers.

But Enzo did finally make good, with a slightly modified variant, in 1964. This car came about because the FIA did not buy into another attempted sleight-of-hand trick. Note that earlier I mentioned the 250LM. From previous blog posts you are no doubt aware that this was a mid-engined car that was radically different from the GTO. Not the least of these differences was that, though called a 250, to the best of my knowledge no LM ever got any motor other than the larger displacement 275 variant. But Ferrari tried to claim the car was merely an extension of the GTO.

The FIA wasn't buying it, which meant the car had to race as a rather uncompetitive prototype. So Ferrari was left without a car to compete in the GT class. Scaglietti rushed to the rescue with the GTO/64. The rules meant the chassis had to stay the same as the earlier 62-63 car, but a wider track was achieved by using wider wheels. Some slight tuning for a wider power band (though the same horsepower) was also done, and Pininfarina sketched a new body, though it was built, as usual, by Scaglietti. Though this was a slightly wider and lower car, it actually had more drag than the earlier car. 

Rarest of the Rare
Either two of three or two of nine
Either way a site never seen again
250GTO/64
Riverside Raceway
circa 1979
Author's phot

You may note a resemblance to the replacement for the original Corvette Stingray. However, that car came out four years later (1968), and no doubt copied some of the visual cues of the GTO/64.

I have sat in one of these.

In fact, I did some pretty insane laps as a passenger in one.

It happened like this. Bob Epstein was an attorney, and his main client (perhaps his employer?) was one of the two biggest professional photography companies in San Francisco. Bob was known throughout the FOC as “Crazy Bob” for his, shall we say, enthusiastic driving style? He once was stopped doing something like 140 in his 250LM (obviously by a roadblock and not some Dodge CHP wagon coming up from behind him). He supposedly had a copy of the speeding ticket done in gold and hung on his office wall.

Bob had recently traded the LM on (you guessed it) a GTO/64. I had actually seen two of these twice before, and once was on track at one of the first Monterey Historic races I went to, with many of the FOC members. We had a tent up by the scoring trylon on the hill containing the Corkscrew, and were there to support Steve Earle's new venture to bring vintage racing as a spectator event to California and the world. In fact, if not for the FOC, there is some doubt if what became the “Monterey Week” would ever have happened.

Anyway, there were actually two of these cars on track together, as they were in the photo. While I somehow thought there were nine built, Supercars.net claims there were only three, so 2/3 of that claimed production were on track together. One was owned by Bob Donner, a longtime pro racer from Colorado I think. I don't know who was driving the other, nor do I know which serial number car Epstein bought.

What I do know is that my ride occurred sometime after my big off in the Siata in 1987...so maybe 1989 or so. I was still pretty spooked by my “tumble dry” experience, and add in that being “along for the ride” in a race car is a whole different ball game than driving one, and I wonder to this day whatever possessed me to get into a car with a mad man. On the other hand, he did not scare me nearly as badly as Gary Kuntz did in a similar ride in his 365GT 2+2 “Queen Mother.” While under complete control I would not have believed you could fling that 4000 pound monster around with such verve and still keep both yourself and the car together. A track car a Queen Mother is decidedly NOT.

Bob, on the other hand, was nowhere near under control...but the LM was so damn good it took all his machinations in stride and was part of what convinced me that no Ferrari will intentionally ever jump up and “bite” you. Yes, you need to drive them with the respect they are due, but as long as you are not a total driving idiot they are just so damned good they make even half-fools look competent.

So those are my $50 million ride stories, triggered by the fact that Tom Price offered rides in his Series I GTO at the CSRG Charity Challenge event this Fall on Bring a Trailer...and the winning bid was $6500. Not sure I think a car ride is worth that, but looked at that way...I've had $13,000 worth of time in these spectacular cars.

250GTO
The Most Expensive Car in the World
And one of the lovliest
Author;s Photo

Sometimes I wonder if my life with cars was just something I made up.