As Historias do Stephen Mitchell

Stephen Mitchell foi um dos poucos e felizes proprietarios de um dos Ferraris mais lindos de sempre, o Ferrari 250 GTO.

Stephen Mitchell vendeu o seu carro ao famoso designer de roupa Ralph Lauren.

Conheço o Stephen apenas por mails trocados, mora entre Los Angeles e Paris, e como nós, é um apaixonado por Ferraris.

As histórias das suas aventuras são maravilhosas, e como tal transcrevo algumas para os verdadeiros apaixonados desta mitica marca do Cavalinho Rompante.

 

Story by Stephen Mitchell

Back in the day, the Ferrari Owners’ Club in Los Angeles held monthly dinner meetings with invited guests as speakers. One of these was Franco Lini who, at the time, was the manager of the Ferrari Formula 1 team. Talking with him afterwards, I made mention of the fact that I would be at Monza for the Grand Prix of Italy. He said, “Come see me when you are there”, which was all I needed to hear.

Fast forward to September. The Saturday was sunny and warm and though I only had tickets for the race on Sunday, what better way to spend the day than to visit Franco Lini during practice for the Italian Grand Prix? I called a cab and instructed the driver to take me to the Monza autodromo. He knew the way. When we got there, the driver wanted to drop me off, but I had other ideas. At the first gate, I told the security guard, “Franco Lini mi ha detto di venire” (Franco Lini told me to come). The man couldn’t get the gate open fast enough. Incredulous, the driver drove through towards the pits. “Non c’è bisogno di fare i biglietti?” (Don’t you need tickets?), he asked me. We’ll see about that, I told him.

We approached a second blockade and, though I suspected I would be turned away as we were very close to the action now, I repeated the magic words, “Franco Lini mi ha detto di venire” and the gate was practically shoved off its hinges. There was one last obstacle in the form of a pedestrian gate into the paddock and pits compound. I left the taxi driver to decide for himself whether to stay and watch the Formula 1 cars practice or return to his duties and approached the security man who was restricting traffic through the gate and who I could see was nobody’s fool. After I threw him the line his demeanor changed, the gate opened and, if my eyes didn’t deceive me, he saluted (!!).

Now I’m in the paddock. There is John Surtees going into the office, Jackie Stewart going out in the March, Jo Bonnier arriving in his Mercedes. Too much to take in all at once. I make my way to the Ferrari pits where, believe it or not, Franco Lini remembered who I was. This surprised me more than anything else and he seemed delighted that his name had served as an all-access pass. Not wanting to impose any further, I left him to his work and took up a position where I could watch the cars from above as they accelerated out of the pits onto the track.

Later, I found myself standing in the paddock again wondering what to do next. I am peripherally aware of someone staring at me. I look at him and he continues to look at me. He is a familiar figure and my first impression is that he is someone I know. Then it dawns on me I am having some sort of nonverbal communication with none other than Enzo Ferrari himself. I’d heard he didn’t attend races, but later learned that he did come to Saturday practice at Monza. In any event, there he was and he kept looking at me. I took this as an invitation and approached him.

I said, “Buon giorno. La mia GTO mi piace molto” (Good day. My GTO pleases me very much) to which he responded, “Sì” as if to say, How could it not? He was curious about how I’d come to own a GTO, being little more than a teenager at the time, and as we spoke, Juan Manuel Fangio walked up and joined us. He smiled at me and listened politely as Ferrari and I conversed.

After a time, I took my leave and wondered at how easily this encounter with two of the greatest figures in auto racing had come about. The taxi driver would never have believed it! From that time forward, I would receive an annual new year’s greeting card from Ferrari signed in his personal purple ink. They arrived like clockwork. He also sent signed Ferrari yearbooks that featured text and photos of Ferrari’s racing and passenger cars. I was surprised at the time to be the recipient of these gifts. Looking back, I am amazed that he took the time.

There is a postscript to the story. For all these years, I’ve assumed that the encounter with Ferrari was coincidental and that my presence in the paddock had been sufficient to arouse his curiosity as I was clearly not a journalist or part of any Formula 1 team. It was only recently that someone hearing me tell of this meeting suggested that Ferrari knew exactly who I was as he stood staring at me; that Franco Lini had told him about the kid from California with a GTO who had bluffed his way into the very sanctum sanctorum of the Formula 1 scene. Though the idea had never entered my mind, it was immediately apparent to me that he was right. Ferrari had been looking at me wondering how I came into possession of a GTO and how I gained access to the pits without credentials. Whatever else he may have been thinking will forever remain a mystery.

 

Story by Stephen Mitchel

Just another GTO

Once upon a time, I received a call from an acquaintance Mario Tosi. He and I both owned Ferrari GTOs and used them as daily transportation. His had been for sale and I came close to buying it before finally purchasing 3987. Mario was calling to say that he had found a buyer for his car and wanted to say goodbye to the car by organizing a track day at Willow Springs Raceway. Would I like to come along, he wanted to know. Indeed I would! Some of what went on that day is documented in this footage filmed by Peter Helm to which I added a narration: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Md_jcC6OnIU

A day or so after this very special event, I found myself having dinner on the Sunset Strip with Matthew Ettinger who owned the Ferrari Breadvan at the time. Leaving the restaurant, we climbed into the GTO and accelerated away enjoying the sound of the engine with its timing chains and intake suction noises and the deep throated sound of the exhaust as it bounced off Nicky Blair's facade. And then suddenly, the GTO made a sharp left turn without any input to the steering wheel. I stopped in the middle of Sunset Boulevard to take stock of the situation. Had I turned the wheel? No. Did we turn left? Yes. I started off again a little more gingerly and made a straight course until WHAM--we turned left again. Clearly the ZF limited slip differential was not happy about something!

Carefully and slowly, we made our way to Peter Helm's apartment just off the Strip. He wasn't home--when was he ever?--so I parked the GTO in his garage and Matthew and I found our way home in separate taxis that night.

Friend and fellow Ferrari enthusiast John Andrews volunteered his garage and skills in dismantling the GTO's rear end. It took some doing but we got it apart and inspected the large crack in the unit which needed to be replaced rather than repaired. This prompted a call to the factory in Maranello. The operator there said no one would be able to help me until after the strike was over. Thoughts of weeks and months waiting for the strike to end passed through my mind. Somewhat hopelessly, I asked, "When might the strike end?" as if she would know. In fact, she did know. "The strike will be over in an hour," she informed me. They do things differently in Italy.

When the two hour strike had concluded, I got through to someone who informed me that I needed to call ZF in Germany as there was no part number on the unit that I could cite. My next call to ZF in Germany confirmed that there was no part number on the unit because there was no such part (!!). ZF merely shipped a solid billet of steel to Ferrari and it was they who machined the part into existence. Another call to Maranello confirmed that they were out on strike again for an hour or so. In between strikes, I was finally advised to contact Luigi Chinetti, Ferrari's U.S. distributor and proprietor of the North American Racing Team. He would know what to do about a broken ZF unit.

The people at Chinetti were extremely helpful and directed me to a machine shop in Greenwich, Connecticut, as I recall, where a replacement was made using the original as a model. To reinstall the part, the GTO was moved to Matthew Ettinger's garage which it shared with the Breadvan--a great garage duo!

It took a couple of long evenings, but Matthew and I installed the limited slip, reassembled the rear end and buttoned everything up. A long job but worth the effort and we were more than ready for a test drive to enjoy the fruits of our labors.

The GTO had been backed into the garage so as Matthew opened the garage door, I started the engine and moved the gearshift into the dog-legged first gear. Matthew waved me out, I engaged the clutch and--the GTO went backwards!

Having installed the unit the wrong way around, I found myself the proud owner of the world's only Ferrari GTO with five speeds in reverse and one forward. We should have gone to a local bar and made some bets. Instead, we gave up and corrected the situation the following day and 3987 became, once again, just another GTO.

 

Story by Stephen Mitchell

Impressions of a Ferrari 250GTO

The Ferrari 250GTO serial #3987 was the third car I’d ever owned. The first was a 3.8 E-Type Jaguar. It was a beautiful car, but featured a low-revving six cylinder with an unsynchronized first gear that was like a granny gear on a truck. The car was more at home on the open road than negotiating the beach canyons of Los Angeles. The second was a Ferrari Berlinetta Lusso. It was very different from the Jaguar with its V12 redlined at 7000 rpm. The Lusso loved the canyons as much as it did the highway. Just as the Lusso was a world apart from the E-Type, so was the GTO an advance over the Lusso. It was a high-revving V12 with six Webers and the gearbox was a 5 speed compared to the Lusso’s 4 speed. I don’t recall which final drive ratio it had, but upon entering a freeway, I would be passing the fastest traffic before needing to shift to second gear. This was worlds apart from the E-Type that would barely get you to 25 mph before requiring a shift to second. Seen in the context of its time, there was nothing quite like the GTO. From 1967-70, 3987 was my principal form of transportation, though I also had an Alfa-Romeo Giulia Veloce spider and the family Cadillac as back up.

When entering the cockpit, I never got used to the fact that the pedals were so close. I’m 5’10” and my knees were splayed around the steering wheel in an effort to fit into the car. Anyone who has ever made this complaint about a Lusso or GTE never sat in a GTO! This lack of legroom was probably a result of the rearward placement of the engine for better weight distribution. The bulkhead behind the seat limited aft seat travel, so there was no way to adjust for comfort. I always had it in mind to have the pedals moved forward, but never did. I once had a conversation with Mark Slotkin, a former owner of 3987, and he also had a list of things he wanted to do with the car that were never done. You adapt to the GTO, it doesn’t adapt to you. I‘ve heard similar remarks made about the Old Man. Headroom was fine and the seat was comfortably wide. One of my favorite things about the car was the position of the gear lever in relation to the steering wheel. Visually, that marvelous aluminum gear knob looked as though it would be too high for comfort. One is accustomed to having to reach down for the lever to shift. With the GTO, the knob was only inches away from the wheel, so shifts could be made very quickly with a short lateral move of the hand. In front of you, the tachometer had a telltale that would move to--and remain at-- the highest revs attained. I rarely exceeded 7500 rpm. The view forward was defined by the two dramatic fender bulges and the ‘power bulge’ in the center of the hood that made room for the twelve velocity stacks above the six Webers. It was a very exciting place to be!

When turning and pushing the ignition key, one was treated to a peculiarity common to Ferraris of the time. The starter motor made a constant whine instead of the more cyclical sound of most starters. To me, it was reminiscent of an aircraft starter. The engine always fired easily and suddenly you would feel the nervous tension of twelve cylinders turning over at 1000 rpm. It took awhile to warm up thanks to the dry-sump and large oil tank. First gear was to the left and back in the slotted gate and the clutch would engage directly without the care required by the Lusso.

For the first 3000 miles that I drove 3987, I kept it to 5000 rpm, as I recall. I did this on the advice of my mechanic, Sal DiNatale, who had just rebuilt the engine. The day I got the car out of the garage (the engine was in pieces when I bought the car) I drove it to Phoenix, Arizona as a break-in trip. A friend of the family was directing an episode of the television series “Then Came Bronson” on location in Tempe and I thought it would be a good opportunity to get to know the car. It also provided me the opportunity to get to know Bud Ekins who was doubling for Michael Parks on the motorcycle in the show. I left Los Angeles about 9pm and drove all night. Apart from the yoga position my legs had to adopt, the car was very peasant to drive. The sound of it was louder than the Lusso and the suspension was clearly race-tuned. Even at the conservative revs I was using, the car was delightful to drive and must have been a sight to other drivers on the road with its two orange ‘Le Mans’ lights lit up on the roof. That night I became accustomed to hearing a car breath for the first time. It is the interesting sound of air being sucked through the twelve velocity stacks as you increase pressure on the accelerator pedal. I might have heard this on the Lusso were it not for the air filter masking the sound. But, this was new to me and re-enforced the fact that this was a race car. I also had the impression of the timing chains being noisier than those on the Lusso. This may have been owing to the lack of insulation, but it was thrilling to hear all the noises that are usually subdued. It made every drive an adventure. Sometimes, believe it or not, the Lusso was just transportation. The GTO never let you forget it was a star!

The day came when I was given the go-ahead by Sal to let it out and see what the car could do. I did. Up to that time, I had only taken it to 5000 rpm and was already in love with the car. Imagine what happened the first time I took it to 7500! At about 6-6500 rpm, the sound of the engine changes entirely from a low pitched growl to a high pitched banshee scream. It was a transcending experience and it felt like the car was thanking you for giving it release. It was an adrenaline rush every time I experienced it. Fortunately, the people in my neighborhood appreciated this sound and would often stop me in public to convey their amazement about the car. I was often stopped in public by members of the California Highway Patrol who also seemed to appreciate the sound.

The racing history of the GTO speaks for itself. My time with the car was subsequent to its time on the track, but prior to the organization of historic races that feature these cars today. However, I did instigate or take part in a great many informal gathering during which other cars of its kind were present. One very memorable event was staged at Willow Springs Raceway. My acquaintance and fellow GTO owner Mario Tosi wanted to have a farewell party for his GTO, so a bunch of us went with him and spent the day racing our cars on the track. Present that day were three GTOs (Cord/Tosi/Mitchell), a California spider (Peter Helm) and at least a half-dozen other cars. It was a great afternoon. For at least half the day, I was letting different people ride as passengers and it is interesting how this affects the handling dynamics when near the limit. The oil sump tank is located behind the passenger seat and probably provides some natural balance to offset the driver’s weight. The car was fairly neutral—though not in the way that a mid-engined car is neutral—and would oversteer on command. I liked the handling and it was a very forgiving car in my experience. On many occasions, the car would be seen in tandem with the famous Breadvan, which then belonged to my friend Matthew Ettinger. He, too, used his car as personal transportation and many are the times that we jointly recorded “Fastest Time of the Day” on one or more of southern California’s highways and byways.

The GTO was well-suited for sustained high-speed runs, as one would expect. Very often, I would get in the car and drive it from my home in Los Angeles to Las Vegas, Nevada. On these occasions, the car performed without any complaint and I would maintain a cruising speed in the 140 mph range, slowing to about 80 mph when approaching other cars that I would be passing. It never overheated or displayed any temperament. The only concessions to street driving were the installation of an electric fan for the radiator and the use of different spark plugs. If the GTO had any agenda of its own, it wanted to go faster. No matter how fast one was traveling, it was always the easiest thing in the world to make it go faster. After driving at 145 mph for a time, the slightest input took the car to 150 and above.

If one were to compare the GTO’s performance figures to those of more recent cars, one might begin to wonder what the fuss was all about. Even Porsche 911s that came not too long after could match it dynamically. The GTO was the dominant GT of its time and though that time has passed, what hasn’t is the manner in which the GTO delivers its performance. It had a personality as defined and characteristic as the man whose name it bore. It is a genuine icon with all of the history, myth, legend and chicanery attached to it that one would expect of a car now valued in the millions of dollars. The memory of the engine screaming as it came on the cam and the snick-snick of that excellent gear change makes almost any other car irrelevant to me. I was able to enjoy the car in a way that current owners wouldn’t dream of. That wouldn’t stop me for a minute, however, if the opportunity to have it back again ever presented itself.

 

Story by Stephen Mitchell

Mitchell & son in Italy

On one of my car buying trips to Italy, I took my father along with me. He and I had a special relationship from very early on which saw us surviving a head-on collision on the Ventura Freeway, going into jazz clubs when I was still underage, traveling to Las Vegas in my Ferrari Berlinetta Lusso and generally aiding and abetting whatever was of interest at any given time. And so it was that he and I went to Milano in search of Ferraris and Maseratis. What made the trip a little unusual was that he had gotten it into his head that it was going to be his last fling--he felt he was getting old.

We spent two or three weeks in Italy together during which we bought some cars, ate well, visited Venice and saw the Italian Grand Prix at Monza where we were joined by Stuart Baumgard and his wife Beverly. Stuart had purchased my GTO from Alain de Cadenet who had purchased it from me. My father and I also paid a visit to the Ferrari factory at Maranello where we took a close look at the production line, the foundry and the dynamometer room.

One of my 'chores' on this trip--apart from trying to fulfill about a dozen requests from friends to bring back Gucci loafers--was to travel to Torino to pick up some Bizzarrini parts for my friend Matthew Ettinger who had a Bizzarrini America at the time. I was given a name, phone number and address along with a wish list of what Matthew needed. My father went with me on the train. It promised to be a routine journey with little excitement. Until, that is...

I was sitting in our compartment and realized that my father, who had gone to get us sandwiches, hadn't returned and I was getting hungry. Though he didn't speak any Italian, he was pretty good at making himself understood but I felt he might be in need of assistance. I went to look for him but didn't have far to go. Out in the corridor I found him making himself understood with a very attractive Italian woman. From the way she was looking at him--and he at her--it was obvious that the sandwiches had been forgotten and something else had taken precedence. As I went by them to on my way to find food, I smiled and nodded but did not interrupt.

A few minutes later, my father joined me in the dining car.

"Do you mind if I don't go to Torino with you?" I had to think about this for a moment, as we were on a train bound for Torino as he asked the question. Seeing my blank look, my father went on to say, "This girl and I have a thing going and we thought we'd get off the train and go back to Milano together." As if he needed to ask and as if I would say no!

At the next stop, they got off the train and I went on to Torino. I would get Matthew's parts for him though the place to which I was directed appeared to be an abandoned factory of some sort and the man who received me looked like he hadn't answered a telephone in years. He checked up and down the street before allowing me to enter as though he were running a speakeasy. Later, I dined alone in a small ristorante before catching my train back to Milano. In so doing, I boarded the train early only to find that it was the wrong train. It left the quai with only me onboard to who knows where and I had to jump off as it made its way across the rail yard and walk back to the station weaving between inbound and outbound trains. I finally made it onto the correct train.

When I rejoined my father later that evening, he had a look of contentment and a deeper appreciation for all things Italian. "Will you be seeing her again?" I asked him. "I'm meeting her for lunch tomorrow," he said, adding, "If you don't mind."

Of course I didn't mind.

 

Story by Stephen Mitchell

The Dino 206

Back in the day, I acquired a Dino 206 racing car from a bank in Reno, Nevada. It had been repossessed from the previous owner, the bank wanted it off their books and I know an entrance cue as well as the next fellow when I see one. I called the banker, told him I was getting on a plane within the hour and told him to wait for me even if it was after hours. Amazingly, he did.

I was greeted and escorted to the lower level of the underground parking facility where the car had been abandoned from the look of it. Next to the car were crates of spare parts--pieces that couldn't be had for love or money in the normal course of events. I stared at the car with what I hoped looked like profound sorrow and disbelief. I shook my head in a disappointed manner as often as I dared. Then, without comment, I led the banker back upstairs as though leaving behind a particularly distasteful crime scene.

Negotiating the purchase price was a riot of cross-purposes. The bank had long since closed and all the banker wanted to do was be rid of me so he could go home to dinner whereas I made myself comfortable in his office enumerating at length all the reasons why I shouldn't buy the car, which included the following statements:

Too many spare parts--what in the world would I do with them?
It doesn't seem to have air conditioning.
Do you suppose I could install power windows?
If only it weren't red.
Do you think it's safe to drive?
It's kind of old, don't you think?
Could you allow for some bodywork repair?
I just know it's going to be too noisy.
How am I going to get this mess back to Los Angeles?
I suppose you expect me to take those crates, too.
Is there a warranty?

I went on and on like this until I figured I had reached his breaking point. Then I said, "I'm going to make you an offer and I can only hope that you'll say no because I really shouldn't be buying this car."

His face fell because he was now fully--if incorrectly--aware that he had absolutely no leverage in this transaction. And he wanted to go home. "So," to quote from Fargo, "there's that and there's that on top of that."

I called out an amount that would have gotten me shot in any other circumstances and he just looked at me as though his career with the bank was coming to a bad end. "I'll have to let you know tomorrow because someone else is flying up to see the car in the morning."

I countered with, "But I'm flying back tonight, so good luck with the other guy." Ten minutes later, I'd arranged for funds to be transferred to the bank and was in a taxi headed back to the airport. I doubt that anyone ever paid less for a competition Dino than I did that day. For a short time at least, Dino 002/0852 was mine.

I do hope the banker got through to the other fellow before he got on a plane to Reno.

 

Story by Stephen Mitchell

The FOC Virginia City Hill Climb

Back in the day, I used to be very active in the Ferrari Owners Club in Los Angeles. I began attending meetings after acquiring my first Ferrari, a Berlinetta Lusso, and I remember making the acquaintance of Matthew Ettinger and the Ferrari Breadvan at the first meeting I attended one evening in Santa Monica. As I recall, Bob Bondurant and Franco Lini were guest speakers. At the time, Asa Clark still owned the 'van but it wouldn't be long before Matthew took over ownership and our adventures together with the Breadvan and the GTO would begin.

One of the functions organized by the FOC was the Virginia City Hill Climb where we would descend in numbers on this small historic town in Nevada to conduct races up a road that the town blocked off for the purpose and to socialize like there was no tomorrow (to put it in the best possible light).

A few days ago, a Google news alert brought my attention to a copy of an FOC newsletter posted on the Internet in PDF format (See: http://www.ferrari250gte.com/i/library_files/19...). Interestingly, it featured an article by FOC member Mark Dees about the 1974 hill climb event in which I participated.

The article featured a photo of my GTO; it was then owned by Stuart Baumgard and driven in the hill climb by Claudio Zampolli. Claudio would later create the well-known Cizeta (Italian for CZ, his initials) supercar. I participated in a 454 Corvette with extremely loud side pipes. It was a very heavy car--some 1200 pounds heavier than a GTO--with most of its weight up front. I did only one run without any practice and managed a time of 4 minutes, 45 seconds with an average speed of 61.3 mph. Claudio managed the same distance in the GTO in 3 minutes, 57 seconds with an average speed of 74.0 mph. Fastest Time of the Day was set by George Dyer Jr in another GTO (#4219) clocking 3 minutes, 37 seconds and averaging 80.4 mph. It was a memorable event. I had previously taken part with the second of my Lussos and the event was always full of rewarding moments and memories.

Let's do it again!

 

Story by Stephen Mitchell

Last night I drove a Ferrari 355 Spider F1

Last night, the Elysee Wednesday gathering culminated with my being handed the keys to a red Ferrari 355 Spider F1 by its very gracious owner, his only warning being that the hard tires were cold and he had once gotten the car perpendicular to the traffic pattern by applying just a little too much throttle under similar circumstances. I took heed.

Turning the key to the first detent, we wait for the fuel pump to fill the line, which takes but a moment. Then a twist and the engine bursts immediately to life at what seems to be a high-rpm idle. This is what I've always experienced with Ferraris as opposed to other, slower idling machines. The car wants to go.

Foot on the brake and a gentle pull on the right paddle and we're in first gear. We move off easily, the car giving exactly what I ask of it--no more or less. It exhibits a precision of execution that says racecar to me. We turn the corner and I wind it up to about 5000 rpm when a flick of the finger on the right paddle moves us into second gear. We're to 4500 rpm and another flick puts us into third. When I have to slow for the intersection where I need to turn, I brake and a flick of the left paddle takes us back to second gear. Another returns us to first. Nothing could be easier. There is a feeling of perfection to all of this. It feels right.

As I drive this Ferrari with the top down hearing the sound of the engine echoing off the trees, it does what all my Ferraris have done--it entertains and, in the process, reminds me of why Ferrari has been the only car rather than merely a good one. The suspension, the steering, the general feel of the car all reward the driver--me, in this case. Beyond the physical dynamics of performance, this car also engaged the senses and even the intellect, which is, in part, the definition of fine art.

I was tentative and respectful with the car as one should be the first time behind the wheel, but I was impressed by what the car offered me and aware that it had so much more to give once I came to learn its ways.

My thanks go to the generous owner of this 355, an Elysee Wednesday regular, who I will not name out of discretion.

 

Story by Stephen Mitchell

Ferrari GTOs at Willow Springs &... (141 Views)

Here is footage shot by my friend Peter Helm of my GTO at Willow Springs Raceway and in the canyons of Los Angeles. Until a month or so ago, I didn't know the footage still existed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Md_jcC6OnIU

 

Story by Stephen Mitchell

I drove a Ferrari Testarossa the other night...

I drove a Ferrari Testarossa for the first time the other night and I have to say I enjoyed it very much. The car immediately became an extension of my will in a way few cars ever do and what I thought would be a car that was much too wide, a little too big & somewhat heavy turned out to be none of those things. Instead, it was an instrument of pleasure that was eager to perform and accelerated with turbine-like thrust that had no discernable cam effect.

My experience with Ferraris has been almost entirely vintage starting with a Lusso and then having a 250GTO as a daily driver for a few years followed by more Lussos, a PF coupe and several Maseratis. The 328GTB I once drove didn't sell me on the moderns, but I think the Testarossa did exactly that.

I'm wondering what I should drive next. Any suggestions?

 

Story by Stephen Mitchell

The Ferrari Breadvan

The Breadvan enjoys a unique place in Ferrari lore and a special place in my memories. During the time I owned my GTO, my best friend Matthew Ettinger owned the Breadvan and the two of us burned up the roads of southern California with these two cars. They were similar but different. They sounded identical with the magnificent noise one expects from a race-tuned V12 with timing chains (not belts!) and open velocity stack induction on six, twin-barrel Weber carbs.

As has been well documented, the Breadvan was built by Giotto Bizzarrini--father of the GTO--for Count Giovanni Volpe after Enzo Ferrari refused to deliver a GTO Volpe had ordered. This was a retaliatory move by Il Drake to punish Volpe for offering aid and comfort to Ferrari's enemies who famously walked away from Maranello.

Based on a SWB 250 Berlinetta, the engine was moved further aft than that of the GTO, which was also SWB based, to provide better handling. This was pure Bizzarrini-school-of-thought as was demonstrated to a greater degree with the Bizzarrini Stradale of later years. The SWB 4-speed was retained where the GTO had a 5-speed transmission. The body contours of the Breadvan were leaner than those of the GTO and it had a lower roofline. It also weighed less. Having driven it occasionally, I can tell you it was quick off the line.

I saw a lot of the Breadvan during those years--sometimes through my windshield, sometimes in my rear-view mirror, sometimes from behind the wheel. It was and is an exciting historic icon that testifies to the brilliance of Ferrari and those who served him as well as to the imperious and sometimes truculent nature of the Old Man.