Eat Your Heart Out!

Somewhere in Bankrupt Old Italy, there is a tiny, wedge-shaped car whining down a sunny stretch of autostrada at 185 mph. While you and I are lumping along in our sensible semicrashproof sedans, eyes scanning the speedometer, lest we exceed 55 mph, and the gas gauge, fearful that our hungry engine will consume its last drop of fuel before the Arabs shut off the spigot, we can comfort (or torment, depending on our frame of mind) ourselves with the thought that a few places still exist on this earth where automobiles are viewed as uncompromising, balls-to-the-wall-oh-my-God mechanisms of pure hedonism. Those places are for the most part in Europe, where a small band of men persists in the belief that some automobiles--some automobiles, not all automobiles--ought to be built for sheer fun without concern for practicality, social responsibility or deference to the rising tides of egalitarianism. These men once included among their number immortals such as Bugatti, Duesenberg, Bentley, Benz, Stutz, etc., who considered the car not so much a transportation module but as the pre-eminent 20th Century kinetic art form. They are gone now, and time has conspired to leave only Enzo Ferrari and a few others to carry the fire. Despite their technical perfection and courageous designs, the great cars these men created have passed out of the automotive mainstream to be replaced by ordinary shoe-box sedans that have been housebroken and mongrelized by the flinty search for profits and the meddling of zealous bureaucracies.

The latest casualty is the venerable English firm of Aston Martin, which for 53 years produced some of the finest sports and grand-touring automobiles available anywhere. It compiled a distinguished competition record, capped by a 1-2 finish in the 1959 LeMans 24-Hour race, and gained world fame as exotic transportation for James Bond, but rising costs involved in the manufacture of its powerful, hand-built coupes forced the company's capitulation at the end of 1974. The action tossed 500 of England's finest craftsman onto the street and left the handful remaining in the few solvent custom and coach-building shops to wonder who's next.

Perhaps this taming of the automobile has been necessary. Certainly, the realities of urban congestion, pollution and the escalating consumption of energy make $40,000 V12, mid-engine, two-passenger cars capable of 185 mph as abhorrent to your basic hair-shirted saviors of society as a squadron of F-14s buzzing Walden Pond at Mach 2. Let's face it; there is precious little justification for owning a Ferrari Berlinetta Boxer or Lamborghini Countach (a pair of automobiles that fit the above definition) beyond the elemental satisfaction of knowing that one is driving perhaps the fastest bloody road car in the world. That sort of aristocratic excess is supposed to have died with the Holy Roman Empire, which is why, following such 20th Century convulsions as the rise of socialism, the Great Depression, a pair of World Wars and the emerging awareness of the environment, ultra-elegant sports machines are about as rare as whistling swans.

They are rarest of all in America. The masterpiece domestic marques like Duesenberg, Cord, Stutz, Marmon, etc., were crushed under the double blow of the Depression and World War Two, leaving us for the most part with a vast range of reliable, responsible, deadly boring sedans cluttering the nation's highways. The supply was further limited by the new realities in Europe that forced manufacturers such as Rolls-Royce, Mercedes-Benz, Alfa Romeo, etc., away from custom sports machinery and toward higher-volume, somewhat lower-priced vehicles.

Still, a few of these cars dribbled onto our shores. Until recently, men with enough money and enough lust for great automobiles could find a small but steady supply of Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Maseratis, etc., to satisfy their urges. But slowly and steadily the colossal Washington bureaucracy has, in the course of its attention to the problems of safety and air pollution, eliminated almost all high-performance cars from the American landscape, including those of uncompromising beauty and performance. The volumes of regulations, laws, standards, codes, amendments, memorandums, notifications, etc., that have poured out of the Department of Transportation and the Environmental Protection Agency, dragooning every car manufacturer who chooses to sell cars in the United States into conformity in everything from bumper strengths to headlight elevations to exhaust emissions to buzzer tones, have been the root cause.

Because of the sheer volume of the American market, a number of European manufacturers have plowed through the acres of paperwork from Washington and spent massive sums to modify their products for sale here. Therefore, one can still purchase a new Porsche, BMW, Mercedes-Benz, Jaguar and even a Ferrari or Maserati in the United States, but the vehicles, in general, will be heavier, more sluggish, less efficient variations on the same models that can be purchased in Europe. Other manufacturers have simply decided that bureaucrats are too formidable an obstacle and have refused to export their automobiles to the United States. Sadly, these no-shows include some of the most exciting cars in existence.

Take for example the Bristol 411 Series IV. Anyone who has driven in England has probably been blown off by one of these slab-sided machines on a twisty country road. Bristols are tall, austere four-seaters with elemental styling and craftsmanship that simply does not exist in the British Isles outside its own shops and the Rolls-Royce works in Crewe. Unlike other automotive exotica, the Bristol 411 is a rather conventional car, utilizing a conventional front-engine, rear-drive system with a relatively simple suspension system. Even more ordinary is the engine/transmission, with a 400-cu.-in., 335-hp Chrysler V8 linked to a Chrysler Torqueflite automatic transmission. The secret of the Bristol is execution, not inspiration. The company's management steadfastly refuses to bend its schedules to the tuggings of the market and seldom produces more than three 411s per week. Each car is, for all intents and purposes, hand-built and carries strong traditions of the high-quality aircraft upon which Bristol created its reputation. After aiding the Allied war effort against Germany with such masterpieces as the quick and deadly twin-engine Bristol Beaufighter and the rugged Beaufort reconnaissance and torpedo bomber, Bristol Aeroplane Company, Ltd., Filton, Bristol, became Bristol Cars, Ltd., in 1960 and has devoted itself to the production of high-quality, high-performance automobiles ever since. The 411's stout, box-ladder frame and rugged interior framing would result in a car of massive weight were it not for its flawlessly finished, all-aluminum body. This produces a relatively light (3775 lbs.), safe, extremely stable and silent machine capable of carrying four passengers and their luggage at speeds approaching nearly 140 mph.

While a few Bristols have reached America (including the Arnolt-Bristol sports cars of the Fifties), recent models remain as scarce as a bureaucrat without a new regulation. For openers, Bristol does not encourage the purchase of its automobiles anywhere outside England, and only a few are exported each year. Moreover, the company absolutely refuses to make a left-hand-drive version, which makes the car impractical in the vast majority of motorized nations. And the thought of Bristol engineers cobbing up their automobiles to conform to the safety and pollution rules pouring out of Washington is as abhorrent to them as converting the factory to the manufacture of Messerschmitt Me-109s. Besides, there is plenty of business in jolly old England even during the current hard times. Despite its price tag of £8973 (about $21,500), enough people are lusting after the Bristol 411 to produce a 12-to-14-month wait for delivery. Is it any wonder we will never see one of these wonderful machines in the United States?

Unlike the recent Bristols, a few Monteverdis can be found floating around America, but they are destined to become curiosities from a bygone era. These special, low-volume machines are the product of a bright, aggressive Swiss named Peter Monteverdi. An auto dealer, customizer, sometime competition driver and general enthusiast, Monteverdi introduced his first complete car--the 375 S 2+2 coupe--at the 1967 Frankfurt Auto Show. Like his subsequent models, the car was fitted with a large-displacement Chrysler V8 engine that gave impressive performance with a high degree of reliability. (Over the years, a number of European builders, including Iso, DeTomaso, Monica, Bizzarrini, Gordon-Keeble, AC, etc., have built cars mating sophisticated Continental chassis and bodies--generally English or Italian--to American drive trains, all with modest success. Perhaps the DeTomaso Pantera, imported by Lincoln-Mercury, and the wonderful Shelby Cobras are the best examples of this design syndrome.)

Monteverdi's attention to detail and his refusal to increase production beyond his capability of maintaining the highest standards of quality control resulted in prosperity where others had failed. His 375s matured into excellent automobiles and he opened a full production facility at Binningen, near Basel (the bodies are built in Italy). Then his staggeringly pretty, wonderfully excessive four-door, close-coupled limousine, the 375/4 appeared, but a final goal existed for a competitive man like Monteverdi: the creation of an ultrarapid road car that would be equal to the Ferrari Daytonas, Lamborghini Miuras, Maserati Ghiblis, etc., that dominated the highways of Europe in terms of sheer speed. After several years of development, Monteverdi introduced his rakish hai 450 GTS at the 1973 Geneva Motor Show.

A low, ground-hugging, mid-engine coupe, the 450 GTS has first-class road holding, braking and steering. It was originally designed to be powered by (continued on page 187)Eat your Heart Out!(continued from page 152) Chrysler's legendary muscle-bound 426-cu.-in. "Hemi" developed for the American stock-car-racing wars, but limited availability of that power plant forced Monteverdi to use Chrysler's potent 450-hp "Wedge." Coupled to a five-speed ZF transmission, and mounted in a space-frame chassis producing a total car weight of about 2800 pounds, the 450 GTS will exceed 180 mph--certainly quick enough to let it tag along with the fastest Ferraris and Maseratis. In fact, the car is so rapid that Monteverdi refuses to make a sale to any driver without substantial experience in high-speed motorcars. Once a potential purchaser's credentials have been established, he need only provide a check for something over 140,000 Swiss francs and wait a year and a half for delivery.

If there is any reason for automotive purists to snub cars like the Bristol and the Monteverdi, it lies in their employment of large-displacement, American production engines, as opposed to the small, light, high-efficiency units produced by the manufacturer itself. This alone might add respectability to the Alfa Romeo Montreal, although its performance falls short of the Bristol and Monteverdi. Carrying the name of one of the greatest manufacturers of high-performance automobiles in history, the Montreal is the most expensive Alfa in a line-up dominated by medium-priced coupes, roadsters and sedans. Since its origin in 1910 as the Anonima Lombarda Fabbrica Automobili (rough translation: the Lombardy Motor Manufacturing Company), Alfa Romeo has built landmark road and racing cars. However, the recent economic woes in Italy have forced a government take-over of the company and a diversion of its production toward more egalitarian machines (still excellent, mind you, but a step down from its uncompromising performers of the past). The Montreal (so named for its introduction at Expo '67) is Alfa's top machine, with a strong racing heritage. Its heart is the light-alloy, fuel-injected, four-cam V8 that first breathed life in the engine bays of the company's potent Tipo 33 prototype racing cars. Smallish by American standards (158.2 cu. ins., or 2593 c.c.), the Montreal's V8 produces lively acceleration and a top speed of nearly 140 mph. Its clean-lined, Bertone-designed body will accommodate four passengers although, like most Italian 2+2s, the rear-seat passengers are most comfortable if they are built like Toulouse-Lautrec. Despite Alfa's active exportation of other models to the U.S., there are no plans to make the Montreal available here. Company policies notwithstanding, it would appear that this car, with its price tag in the range of $14,000, would have a ready market, even with its lovely body dripping with U. S. Government--approved five-mph cowcatcher bumpers and its high-revving engine desmogged.

Maserati and Lancia stand with Alfa Romeo on everybody's list of all-time great marques, and both have exported cars to America over the years. But poor Lancia has had hard going for the past two decades and was finally forced to become a ward of giant Fiat in order to stay in business. Domestic consolidations, plus rather limited exportation policies, prompted Lancia to drop out of the American market entirely several years ago, while Maserati has bustled along in quite satisfactory fashion, selling rich Americans a variety of elegant grand-touring cars. In fact, Maserati's Indy--perhaps the fastest four-seater ever produced--has been brought into the United States until recently, and there are a number of these rakish machines operating on American roads. Like the Montreal, the Indy's four-cam V8 engine has a racing heritage, in this case dating back to the late Fifties, when the factory contested Ferrari, Porsche, Aston Martin, etc., for victory in the great sports-car endurance races at places like LeMans and Sebring. Rated at 320 hp, the power plant can push the low, slippery-shaped Indy along at a speed exceeding 160 mph--certainly adequate to make up lost time on the way to the theater or your club.

While Maserati has concentrated on the production of luxurious grand-touring machinery (the Indy remains available only in Europe, but all you American Maserati fans will be pleased to learn that a new four-seater--called the Khamsin--will soon be available here at a trifling $33,000), hard times have forced Lancia away from this aristocratic market toward more mundane coupes and sedans for the bourgeoisie. For a while, during the gloomy reorganization days that saw it come under the giant Fiat umbrella, Lancia was forced out of the high-performance market entirely. Now it is back, with a tough, humpbacked little coupe called the Stratos. The lightest of the cars treated here (at 2160 lbs.) and the most Spartan, it has gained a reputation as one of the finest rally cars in the world--which demands speed, ruggedness and agility on some of the worst roads imaginable. Tucked inside the Stratos' stiff, monocoque frame is a small, four-cam V6 with a heritage of its own, although its origins come from Ferrari, a marque that was once Lancia's rival on the Grand Prix circuit. Because Ferrari, like Lancia, is also partially controlled by the massive Fiat conglomerate, there has been a limited interchange of technology. The 190-hp, 2.4-liter "Dino" engine was originally designed by the Ferrari engineering staff for Fiat in the mid-Sixties (two other V6s had also been introduced by Ferrari; all were part of a series of cars and power plants created in the memory of his beloved son, Dino, who had lost his life to illness) and was intended for an unsuccessful Fiat-Ferrari sports car called the Dino. This engine was also used in several pure Ferrari GT and racing cars before it appeared in the Stratos in 1971.

While Lancia conceived the Stratos as a dual-purpose machine for touring and competition, its career on the highways of Europe has been limited. It is more racing car than passenger vehicle and will likely remain such until Lancia is able to invest it with a bit more civility. Tough, hairy little racing car it is, but it is at a decided disadvantage when thrust into the market against the fast, well-mannered automobiles presently being built by Porsche, Mercedes-Benz, Ferrari and others.

If one is seriously seeking to dominate the highways of Europe, there are really only two cars to consider: a pair of brutal, bullet-fast machines from Italy. Both carry all the known ingredients for truly rapid automobiles--mid-engine configuration, ultra-aerodynamic bodywork, independent suspension, rigid, racing-type chassis and powerful, exotic engine--in these cases lightweight, four-cam V12s. The Lamborghini Countach and the Ferrari Berlinetta Boxer are surely the fastest highway cars ever produced and represent technology's super effort in behalf of maximum-speed transport for two people.

Ferruccio Lamborghini made his fortune building agricultural tractors and oil burners, and his car manufacturing began only as a hobby in 1963. Since then, his Miuras, Espadas, etc., have gained a reputation for glamor and performance to rival Ferrari's. His masterpiece is the incredible Countach LP 500, with its lovely 2900-lb. body and its 5-liter (300-cu.-in.) engine coupled to a five-speed gearbox. The Ferrari Berlinetta Boxer is lighter by 400 lbs. and has a smaller-displacement engine (4.4 liters, or 268 cu. ins.), but in most other ways is nearly identical. (The Lamborghini has an 8/10ths-of-an-inch-longer wheel-base, but is 13.8 inches shorter overall.) Perhaps the most significant difference between the two cars is the Ferrari's engine, which is a flat-12 (wherein the two banks of cylinders lie opposed, as if the V configuration has been squashed into a horizontal position). When Ferrari first introduced his flat-12 on his Formula I cars, factory mechanics and drivers nicknamed it the Boxer, and since then all opposed Ferrari engines, including the one in this incredible road car, have carried that appellation.

Lamborghini rates his conventional V12 at 440 hp, while Ferrari's slightly smaller Boxer is said to produce 380 hp. Which is faster? Both machines have been tested, in full road trim, in excess of 185 mph. Depending on weather conditions, state of tune, skill of the drivers, etc., one or the other might enjoy a slight edge, but no clear-cut advantage appears to exist for either machine, at least in terms of raw top speed. Should you need a car for a European pied-à-terre (both Ferrari and Lamborghini say neither car will ever reach America) and are concerned about ending up second best in some blinding, nose-to-nose contest along an autostrada, we might suggest a solution: Buy one of each. After all, the prices of the Countach and the Boxer, at the madly jouncing international exchange rates, both approach $50,000 and you would have a claim to fame as the first man to blow $100,000 on a brace of the world's fastest passenger cars.

Such lunatic fantasies notwithstanding, the fact remains that cars like the Ferrari Boxer and the Lamborghini Countach appear doomed. Prices for such marvelous machinery are skyrocketing so fast that we may see the day when even Arab sheiks may not be able to afford them. Men who claim good sense and temperance will applaud this news. After all, they have attacked fast cars with Cromwellian ire since the first day somebody scared a chicken with a Winton Bullet. Surely, in this day of conservation and retrenchment, rocketing along at 185 mph in a car representing the annual income of half the citizens of the Republic of Chad (or some such appalling statistic) seems the height of decadence. But we must consider this aspect: While the great cars can be assaulted as toys of the rich, the cars alone have been the source of such automotive advances as high-efficiency, overhead-camshaft engines, four-wheel independent suspensions, five-speed, close-ratio gearboxes, sophisticated space frame and unitized chassis, disk brakes, fuel injection and a thousand other engineering nuances that we now take for granted. Had it not been for the daring spirit of men like Bugatti, Ferrari, the Duesenberg brothers, etc., who experimented with such mechanisms both on their extravagantly expensive road cars and on their closely related racing machines, it is possible they would never have reached mass production. This begs the question: If we confine the boundaries of human creativity--even in automotive realms--will we pay the final price of no creativity at all? It is the nature of man to operate at the outer limits of his capabilities, and no one has contemplated the spiritual consequences if one day we discover we have reached our limits.

Of course the automobiles we have discussed here are elitist, wasteful and antisocial, but they represent an outer limit. In an automotive sense, Europe has always challenged that limit more than we. And today, as we rein in at a sensible 55 mph and the ennui settles over us, that point becomes all too clear.