Have any of you Driven a Race Car on the Road?

Well, there's the issue. You're dragging her out of bed to take a drive in Toyota. She probably falls asleep in the passenger seat.

-- FChat Marriage Consultant

Great pics. The hairstyles, but also the car.

 

It was the night before a Formula Ford race and my engine was in bits, the head gasket having blown during a Friday test session. The place was Clane, Co Kildare, or rather just outside the town, down an Irish country road and in a barn that had been taken over by the owner of the Mondello School of Motor Racing. The time - well, it was a summer evening almost 30 years ago, which suddenly doesn’t seem that far away. Actually, the older I get the more it feels like my life is a woven fabric rather than a progressing line, and if one thread in the weave is pulled hard enough the fabric of life bunches up so that the beginning of the thread is no distance away at all, and the event one remembers is as near as a pair of socks in the unopened dresser drawer, if you see what I mean.

That aside, the aforementioned proprietor of the Mondello School of Motor Racing was bolting the head back onto my engine, for he was equipped with both knowledge of things both Ford and 1600 c.c. and, more impressively, a torque wrench. I didn’t know much about motors, other then how to damage them, but I had guessed that twisting a head bolt with my fist held really tight probably wouldn’t be enough to keep the compression from shredding my replacement gasket, which was why I was in his barn that evening. John, as the chief Professor, mechanic and professional drinker / walking tobacco chimney was known, had one eyebrow and a temper that could have been used for geothermal power, had anyone been advanced and green enough to see its potential. He was also very generous with his time and effort, particularly if his work culminated in something that worked on the track the next day. He was good to me, actually he helped me a hell of a lot.

“Right, it’s finished. Now you have to run it in a bit so that I can tighten everything down again before the race,” he said, as the valve cover went back on. He stepped back, wiping his hands on a cloth, looking happy.

“Could we just run the engine in the car, you know, with a hose through the radiator?” I offered, being dim and not wanting to see where this was going.

“Nah. That won’t work. You need to rev it up a bit. If it isn’t on song for qualifying you won’t make the final.”

Won’t make the final? Lord, but not making the final was sort of like finding yourself in public without trousers or smalls, an inconceivable embarrassment and a commentary on your inner core as a failure. Won’t make the final? It would be better to be run over in the paddock by your own car than not make the final to a Mondello Park Formula Ford race. That couldn’t happen!
It was about 9:30 at night, but the sky was light with summer and the car was sitting there, ready and waiting, or rather ready and tempting.

I took off all the bodywork and then filled up the tank, for while I may have been an idiot I didn’t want to be an easily identified idiot, one with a huge number 99 right on the side of the car sort-of -idiot. The Varley battery was on a charger, it was a moment’s work to put it in under the front of the seat, and with a flick of the master switch and a press of the starter button the Royal fired up. It may have only been a Ford pushrod engine, but unmuffled it sounded great, thumping and barking into the late evening summer air. It ran! I put the Hewland in first and headed out of the yard, past the bungalow that John and his family lived in and down to the great Dublin road, the R403 that ran away from Clane and went on to the big smoke itself.
There was no one on it. The pub parking lots were full and there was probably some hurling match on T.V. that had all the decent folk clinging to the couch in their homes, so I pulled up through the gears and eased on the throttle until I was going at 5,500 rpm in fourth. The car bucked over the potholes and fought with the camber, pulling like mad to find the ditch by the edge of the road. Being a sensible moron I centred it on the dotted line which reduced the constant pull to the odd jerk that one could happily live with. It was then that I realised turning around wouldn’t be easy, in fact a real cross roads would be needed as the lock on the car was really bad, oversteer being part of the normal way of navigating. The nearest one was towards Barberstown, somewhere between one and two miles away from where I had started, so I kept on going, cheerful in my anarchy. The engine sang and the car, berieft of bodywork and windscreen was elemental. It was like riding a broom, the wind tore at me and the thing kicked and shook as it howled down the road; it was as subtle as a knuckle duster in a convent, it was GREAT!
While turning, a car passed by on the main road, something dark that looked like a Ford Escort. I gave it plenty of time to disappear - say ten or twelve seconds of lurking before I was back in first gear again. The return trip was taken at 6,200 r.p.m. in fourth, and though the gearing was low, having been set for a twisty Mondello circuit, the car would still do about 110 mph. To my amazement I soon saw the Ford Escort again for, surprise, surprise, they it going a bit slower! I kept my foot in and passed them out on the otherwise empty road, going well below their door handle. I had a glimpse in the summer light of solid men, pint drinking, cap wearing, farming folk, all four crunched into the Ford, and then, as I flashed by the Escort, it sort of shrugged and wavered, like a boxer taking a body blow, as it balanced between the white line and the ditch. I guess the chauffeur hadn’t expected a thing that consisted of nothing but tubes and engine, and sat well below his Plimsole line, to blow by his mount with an unmuffled ferocity. Shame on me, but I loved it! I’m sure that the good tax payers in their Ford were vocal in their contrary opinion.

And that was it. No police, no other traffic, no drama at all, and I sure as hell wouldn’t do it today. I don’t think I would live long enough to get out of goal if I got caught.

Mind you, I still have that Royal RP26 in the back of my garage, and it is sort of on the button...
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of course!! that was the whole idea when i was young....at my undergrad college i often drove my 550 spyder [ex duntov] and parked it on the street along with a lotus eleven and a 100s healy..there was a alfa tz around on the street as well..later in life i would take my t37 bug up in the hills with a friend with a similar car..my 35b got on the road a bit but was just too much in traffic..it liked laguna way better...of course there were the "almost racers"...zagato abarths, SIATA, lotus super seven, OSCA zagato coupe riley tt, alvis speed 20 specal, and many T ford sprint and two man cars i drove around town.

oh..forgot the 1935 indy miller-ford...fwd, ford flathead, good brakes and seated two..noisy and a bit cramped but fun.

 

I drove my Challenge car around the Hamptons for about an hour this afternoon. It has no decals and looks like a standard 360 plus all the East Hampton law enforcement were in Montauk today policing the St Pats parade there!

 

I took my first 997 gt3 cup to the grocery store the first week I had it home. I just couldn't wait for the track. Wouldn't do it again. Too many problems if caught in our little town

 

on nice days. But alass, it's now gone. My wife and I once stopped at the local TGI Fridays for lunch on a Sat. afternoon a few years ago. Came out, after lunch, to find a fellow lieing on the ground looking up under the car "to see what motor was in the car".....Was curious to know if it was a real Ferrari or not. I assured him it was. Plenty of stories to go with that car....was a real thrill driving it around town. My next adventure is to take my Comp. Daytona out about town...straight pipes and all.....Cann't wait.
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Was this particular 375MM at Kirk White's in the early 1970s ?

Thanks,
Don

 

We used to drive old race cars fairly often back in the day:

I used s.n. 2015, an alloy body comp SWB Cal Spider as my everyday driver in the summer of 1969. The car had competed at LeMans in 1960 and Sebring in 1961. (see photo under NEWSLETTER on my website)
I have an 8mm home movie that I made of Bill Kontes and I driving Bill's competition 206S Dino (single ignition and Webers) around the back roads of Bryn Mawr, PA in 1971. It was right hand drive with a progressive locked out shift gate, and you could make every gear change without using the clutch.
Bill and I both drove his competition Daytona at a very high speed for many miles on the Interstate around Vineland, NJ. (Bill had "diplomatic immunity").
I also had a ride, again around the Main Line, in Kirk White's P4, with Mike Tillson at the wheel.
In 1970 Kirk asked me to go to Bel Air, MD to pick up Ron Spangler's 250MM and drive it back to his shop in Philadelphia, advising me to keep an eye on the temp gauge as the car had blown head gaskets. When I drove the car into Kirk's garage I commented that it was a little hard to get the car off the line after each red light. Someone jacked up the rear of the car and informed me that I had driven the car the entire distance with the rear brakes locked up.
Mike Tillson was the only employee at ALGAR ENTERPRISES in the late Sixties who was permitted to drive Al Garthwaite's white 250LM Stradale (ex-1965 Geneva Show car), and I was a passenger when Mike drove the car to stop by Roger Penske's race shop in Newtown Square.
I picked up a 500 Mondial in north Philadelphia in 1968 and drove it back to ALGAR in Rosemont. Unfortunately, I didn't make it. As I was exiting the Schuylkill Expressway at City Line Ave., the motor lunched. The service department sent out their Dodge wagon with a trailer to bring the Mondial home. I went out for lunch, and when I returned Tillson had left some oily pieces of metal on my desk with a note that read "..pick up some 500 Mondial bearings while you're out to lunch."
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That triggered a memory. In about 1961 a friend of mine bought a 375MM spider for $2400 from a guy in Los Altos Hills, CA. He asked me to drive him up there from LA to get it in my Morris 850 so of course I did- figuring I'd at least get to sit in it.
When we got there we found that the guy had been working on the clutch in his garage and I had to help him re-install the clutch and gearbox. I went along with the seller on the test drive and we went up to Skyline Drive- kind of the Bay area equivalent of Mulholland Drive in LA. He offered to let me drive it back down so off we went. My first Ferrari drive, first right hand drive, first all metal multi-plate clutch etc. etc. What a gas! It had 4 long, slow taper megaphones out the back and sounded great!
Some months later I drove it through the tunnel under the LAX runways, exiting at about 6000 in third. What a noise that made. Those were the days.
Anton

 

That was the late Bill Reardon from Villanova, PA. We called that car a 250LMB. Research shows that it's actually one of the "standard" GTOs that was re-bodied. He drove that car a lot on weekends, and we saw him all the time in the neighborhood. Bill was known to take a drink whenever and wherever, and he also had a glass eye, so limited vision plus liquor must have given him a unique view over the hood of that car.

 

That was the late Bill Reardon from Villanova, PA. We called that car a 250LMB. Research shows that it's actually one of the "standard" GTOs that was re-bodied. He drove that car a lot on weekends, and we saw him all the time in the neighborhood. Bill was known to take a drink whenever and wherever, and he also had a glass eye, so limited vision plus liquor must have given him a unique view over the hood of that car.

 

At belle machinna 2 years ago I spent a wonderful 16 hours in the hauler with Dick Merritt. He probably owned just about every vintage racing Ferrari that existed in the US. At one point he had a 250 LM and was living in Detroit I believe. He decided to take it out and see what it could really do.

Evidently he was going to fast for the local law enforcement. All they could do is radio ahead to the next county. So at one point, the cops had the drawbridge put up. That finally stopped the 250. When asked why the drawbridge was up, the cops replied "to stop you" He spent the night in the pokey and mentioned something about the difficulty they had towing the car from the scene.

Those were the days. I loved hearing those stories about the old days....

Hey Bryan, how about the story of your dad taking the 500 cross country and the short lived pep boys muffler and the rain storm in Texas? Your dad and Mr Merritt in the same room should be filmed for historical purposes.

 

!
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there was a guy in or around atlanta that drove and street registered a porsche 917 on the street 70's-80's,,it was a martini/rossi car

 

Those were the Day's.

Kirk's "P4" was a 412P which is still regularly street driven.

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I believe the car you are referring to was the X-Bill Spears 375MM spyder. The car pictured, #0360MM, was in No. Carolina, owned by Norman Silver, in the early 70's. I bought the car in 1981 from Norman.

 

In the late 80's, my son took his date to the senior prom in my 1958 250GT TDF. He had a blast....I was scared to death!!! Both he and the car were fine...

 

Thanks very much for helping to connect back to my 'first time' Ferrari experience. I'm still in awe of 375MMs, enormous cam covers and triple four-barrels, and the noise under the bridges on West River Drive.

You son will remember that prom and his generous dad for the rest of his life. Nice.

Don

 

here you go, Ken
In the spring of 1961, my father was stationed at the Naval Air Station, Oakland, California. He had only recently finished getting his 1955 Series II 500 Mondial roadworthy and had completed an SCCA driver's school in it as well as competing in the 26 March Georgetown Hillclimb and the 15-16 April 1961 Stockton SCCA Races. McNamara closed his base and Dad was sent on very short notice to Karamursel, Turkey, shortly before he was to run at Laguna Seca. He left the car in the garage of his secretary. After the two year tour in Turkey he was assigned to the Navy Supply Center in Bayonne, New Jersey, which of course was on the wrong side of the country from the car.

He didn't like the idea and could not afford to ship the car across country, so he decided to drive it. His secretary had divorced and moved on. The car had been towed to an old warehouse in Oakland and a broken ceiling window pane had caused some minor body damage, but overall it was still in running condition. In order to make the rossa corsa car not quite as obvious to law enforcement as he made the 3000+ mile trip, he removed the last section of the straight exhaust pipes and bought a muffler for a 1960 Chrysler. Using a section of spiral-type steel flex tubing matching the diameter of the Mondial's exhaust pipe just inboard of the left rear wheel, he hose-clamped the Chrysler muffler to the flex-tubing and then the flex-tubing to the Mondial's exhaust. Then a little baling wire at the back end of the muffler to the chassis and he was set to go.

The first day was uneventful save for an funny incident leaving Bakersfield but that is another story. The morning of the second day found him leaving Needles, CA crossing the Colorado River and climbing into the western Arizona mountains. Needles averages only 5 inches of rain annually, however, this particular morning it was raining. Highway 66 was a winding two lane road and before long he found himself behind a 1940 black Ford creeping up the considerable grade at about 30 mph; it's driver apparently a very short, elderly person. The rain would slipstream over his head if he were going at least 35 to 40 mph, so the Ford was slowing him down as well as causing him to get wet. The sporadic traffic coming down the mountain in the opposite direction was constant enough to frustrate his ability to pass the rolling chicane. Finally, a passing opportunity presented itself. He dropped into second gear and used the prodigious torque of the Mondial's motor to blow by the Ford.

Just as he pulled abreast of the car at full revs, he heard what seemed to be an explosion. Since one's brain seems to slow down the action in scenes like this, his first thought was "I've blown the motor." "Wait, I still have power, so that can't be right." “Instead of one explosion the noise is continuous.” Then he noticed odd movement in the rear view mirror. The Chrysler muffler was being dragged and bouncing along about 30 feet behind the car. The sudden additional back-pressure in the exhaust caused by the downshift and high revs had fractured the baling wire, and the flex tubing had instantaneously unraveled itself. The hefty muffler, still tethered to the car by the unwound flex tube, was bouncing merrily along behind the car, and the noise was simply the open pipe exhaust at full chat.

He quickly pulled over and sheepishly started reeling in the runaway muffler in the rain. The old lady in the Ford eventually putted on by, giving a good hard glare to the lad in that furrin' sports car. He jammed the muffler into the passenger side of the cockpit, put the normal straight through tailpipe back in place and headed into the next town, announcing his presence at high decibel well before actually arriving . . . .

Being a Sunday morning, nothing was open which would have more flex tubing so began a 500 mile drive involving games with small town policemen, and a continental divide crossing in a blizzard, but those too are other pieces of the saga.

Perhaps more later. . . .

 

that pic makes me smile Napolis.....Fantastic and Beautiful don't even come close to describing that car

 

There is an episode of the Miami Vice television show from the 1980s with a Porsche 906 being driven on the street:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCtpVKDV_4Y&feature=related

 

I don't suppose you have a s/n for this car? m tongascrew

 

What the black 1940 Ford? ... they still own the Ferrari (1955 s.II 500 Mondial, s/n 0556(0446)MD).

Pete

 

Bill Schanbacher and I bought the Ferrari 206 SP from Ed Niles in 1978. After a total restoration #196 joined the Pacific Region of the FCA. In 1984 after being selected by Jackie Stewart at the Monterey Historics in Monterey to show at the Pebble Beach Concours, I drove the entire 17 mile Drive to Pebble Beach from the Laguna Seca track and back. Even the deer looked up. The Highlight of the day was being on the "green Carpet".