I’ve done it. I’m in. My legs barely work and I can feel the column of sweat running down the length of my back because I’ve spent the past 30 minutes or so squatting behind a tire wall waiting for just the right moment. It arrives when the festivities begin and the guards in the tower behind the Shell station avert their eyes. I take my chance and walk with my arms crossed to cover my wrists and my chest so no one sees I lack all of the necessary credentials to be at the track.
The track is Fiorano and it’s June 24th, 2007, approximately 60 years after a man named Enzo founded one of the most recognized car companies in the world. I wander up the side of the track and mix with the “regular” crowd. This was no simple birthday bash as people in 599s and F40s were being turned away from the gates. They needed a pass. Not me. I situate myself just in time to see synchronized jets flying overhead right before Piero Ferrari rolls onto the famed Italian circuit in a one-off, factory built replica of the first car to bear his father’s name. Michael Schumacher passes by in an FXX and Kimi Raikkonen does donuts in his F1 car.
When the show dies down I wander off to find what else I wasn’t supposed to see. I stop to take a picture of an F50 parked neatly along the track and duck out of the way of a couple 430s. There’s a F40 here, a 275 GTB there, and finally I approach the 250s. They represent an era of Ferraris so special they command millions of dollars at auctions and adorn countless bedroom walls. There’s a pair of 250 GT SWBs so beautiful they made my heart hurt. But just past those two sits the best of all — a Ferrari 250 GTO.
Never in my life did I think I would ever see such a rare sight. Only 39 were built in the initial production run from 1962 to 1964 and far fewer than that remain today. Prices soar well into eight figures when one manages to change hands and those hands rarely let go of the car long enough for mere mortals to get their sub-billion dollar net worth eyes on them. But here I am, face-to-face with the only dark blue 250 GTO, Chassis No. 4219. I tell myself it’s the first and last time I will ever see a Ferrari 250 GTO. I take my time and admire the car for as long as I can.
Flash forward four years. A blip in time and yet I’ve somehow miraculously fallen ass backwards into the coolest job in the entire world; associate photo editor for Motor Trend. It’s time for Pebble Beach 2011 and my superiors have graciously allowed me to cover the event so long as I don’t embarrass them too badly/act as designated driver for senior editor Jonny Lieberman, who refers to me all weekend long as his squire. A small price to pay for what Jonny ensures me is the greatest car weekend of the entire year.
Lieberman and I arrive at the Inn at Spanish Bay in our long term Cadillac CTS-V Sport Wagon, the initial valet line-up includes (but is not limited to) two customized Rolls Royce Drop Head Phantom Coupes, a Porsche Carerra GT, Jaguar XKR-S, Ferrari 599 GTO (one of 599) and Ferrari 599 SA Aperta (one of just 80). The cheap stuff is parked across the courtyard (Audi R8 V-10 Spyder, Bentley Mulsanne, Corvette ZR1, etc.) Holy Crap it’s going to be a good weekend!
Driving around is what I assume it would be like living inside a Need for Speed game. There are beautiful winding roads slicing through the forest and sneaking out along the coast every so often. Literally every inch of snaking tarmac is teeming with hot metal. Jonny and I play “I-Spy” the hyper car and hyper rare car edition. “Rolls Royce Phantom!” is the first six-figure car we see on the road. A “300 SL!” is enthusiastically pointed out shortly after. Then, “Another Gullwing!” And, “Another Gullwing!” There are more Jaguar E-Types than I’ve ever even contemplated and more Lamborghinis than Accords. We even spy two Miuras. This game carries through the weekend and never gets old, not for a second. Especially when we spy a gorgeous blue Ferrari 250 SWB.
Walking the various events that make Pebble Beach weekend has an energy and charisma you might feel at the county fair you’ve been going to your whole life, a family reunion with only your coolest (and richest) favorite cousins, and a high school pep rally except everyone is cheering for the coolest cars on the entire planet. In my humble opinion, Pebble’s the best thing ever.
The Concorso Italiano was particularly exciting for me. It’s a standalone event to celebrate the finest (and arguably not so finest) works of that boyhood dream car factory; Italy. The guest list included everything from Detomaso Panteras and Fiat 600s to a handful of new Aventadors and an Enzo blacked out for the Meguiar’s booth. Legend has it that one year a guy entered a Mary Kay Cadillac Allante. Talk about balls, big pink ones. Given the event’s name bias the thought would not escape the back of my mind; would I see a 250 GTO here? No. There was an abundance of 308s and Mondials, dozens of Testarossas, a very cool barn found 275 GTB wearing it’s dust and scuffs proudly un-restored, an ultra-rare 288 GTO and even three F50s! But no go on the 250 GTO. Its rarity perpetuated the likelihood that my encounter in Maranello would remain a sole occurrence.
The following day it was time to make rounds in the Rolex Monterey Motorsports Reunion pit area. A Mazda 787B Le Mans car catches my eye as I’ve probably logged more hours in that car than any other over the various iterations of Gran Turismo. Some race tuned classic Mustangs and Corvettes rumble by at the speed of me going deaf, or about 3 mph for them. Jonny pulls me aside to show me his personal white whale, three Jaguar XKSS’ lined up in the show car collection. They are achingly beautiful, but lack a certain… Ferrari-ness to keep my attention.
As Lieberman takes advantage of his invitation to the Cadillac Suite above the garages, I take the opportunity to explore the action. Cars so old you’d be scared to even close the door sit with their hoods ajar letting heat dissipate after being driven in an absolute anger around the legendary circuit. There’s a lot to take in but as I round one corner there sits a huge red trailer and it happens. Two Ferrari 250 GTOs sit under an awning being tended to by various garage hands. My mind is blown. My heart picks up pace and my lips do something that’s more than a smile, but less than cool or subtle. Two.
I admire the cars among the flock of other folks, all of whom probably know that red Ferraris are cool, but maybe not just how special these two are. The saucers that are now my eyes start to look a little closer; is that an extra gill on the fender of the GTO on the left? The hump in the middle of the long, sensual hood looks a little higher… I ask one of the people touching the car if it’s a 4.0-liter. “Yeah, pretty cool huh?” My mind is blown again. Only three 4.0-liter GTOs (called 330 GTO) were ever produced out of 39 originals and here sits one of them in front of me, next to another 250 GTO! I barely notice the 250 SWB or (as Jonny later points out) the Alfa Romeo 8C 2800.
I sit in awe and of all the things racing through my mind a weird thought pops up. Does this make my encounter with Chassis No. 4219 less special? Is this chance stumbling upon less special because I’ve already seen a 250 GTO before? No stupid! It’s a 250 GTO and a 330 GTO next to each other! This is the coolest thing on the planet! The uber-smile returns and I continue gawking. Eventually Jonny finds me and indulges my obsession for a few moments before dragging me away because we need to get ready for a dinner with Mercedes-Benz, a follow up dinner with Hyundai North America CEO John Krafcik and an evening ending Bentley party. I love Pebble Beach.
Sunday’s finally the big day, the Concours d’Elegance. The culmination of all things high end, classic, and haute couture automotive. Our Cadillac sponsored shuttle bus drops us off amidst the concept lawn. A bare Aventador frame and carbon fiber tub sits in a circle amidst Mclaren MP4-12C GT3, SSC Tuatara and others. Two Veyron Grand Sports and a Super Sport sit three in a row for press and client drives, but we walk past since Jonny (lucky bastard) drove one last year and, well, they just wouldn’t let me.
The zillionaire county fair environment is in full effect now as the lawn is stuffed to the brim with enthusiasts meandering between THE most exclusive cars that can be found in the world. Class A, Antique through 1915 starts with a 1906 Adams-Farwell 6A Connolly Runabout. I have no idea what that is but I’m pretty sure it’s awesome. There are Bentleys as big as the garages used to now build modern the Bentleys and Duesenbergs that put the elegance in d’Elegance.
I quickly forget about all that. When I see what I see I make a beeline for a row of cars neatly lined up along the water’s edge. Red, Red, Red, some blue, some silver and a pale Easter green. Some 21 Ferrari 250 GTOs in all. My mind is not blown; it is reconfigured to accommodate a new reality in which the impossible is not only possible, but separated from me by only a plastic chain. That smile from the Laguna Seca pits is back, but it’s okay because everyone else has one too. Walking slowly down the line of what is in all likelihood every single remaining 250 GTO (by one estimate, a half-billion dollar’s worth) I have to pause especially long when I get to a certain one. It’s very dark, almost black but with a touch of blue on the brightest highlights. I look down the line to make sure it’s the only one that wears this paint.
It took only four years for my once in a lifetime, end all be all automotive encounter to repeat itself. Chassis No. 4219 and I were within two feet of each other for the second time in half a decade and that question popped in my head again. If I did it this easily then who cares? Is this car really that unique if there are 20 other examples within putting distance? Is this really such a special moment? Will this experience be able to stand up to what I felt at Fiorano those four long years ago? Um… YES! Because that was just one car, this is 21 FERRARI 250 GTOs!!!
There are moments in life that will remain singular, be it a first kiss, a first lover or a first car. We spend the rest of our lives seeking to reclaim the joy we got from these extraordinary events, even if we never truly do. Does that make your second kiss less special? Do you love your second child any less than the first? What about your current car? Should I not anticipate reuniting with Chassis No. 4219 for a third time? I think not, but I’ll let you know the next time I see her. My fingers are crossed for Pebble Beach 2012. -Photos by the author
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