Chassis number 2211133 was delivered on April 19, 1934 to Angelo Listori, with two-seat coupe bodywork that was shortly replaced by a drophead coupe body. In post-war Austria, the body was refurbished and the car eventually came to the US, where it was owned by Ed Bond, Pat Braden, Henry Petronis and Herb Wetson, who installed a Zagato body and sold the car to Canadian Mike Craven. After several other owners, Englishman Hugh Taylor commissioned Paul Grist to fit a Monza body. Some purists may view this Monza as not entirely authentic. However, it should be noted that this is a […]
Chassis number 2211133 was delivered on April 19, 1934 to Angelo Listori, with two-seat coupe bodywork that was shortly replaced by a drophead coupe body. In post-war Austria, the body was refurbished and the car eventually came to the US, where it was owned by Ed Bond, Pat Braden, Henry Petronis and Herb Wetson, who installed a Zagato body and sold the car to Canadian Mike Craven. After several other owners, Englishman Hugh Taylor commissioned Paul Grist to fit a Monza body.
Some purists may view this Monza as not entirely authentic. However, it should be noted that this is a correct, numbers-matching 8C 2300 chassis and engine, and 8C 2300 Monzas were being built as early as 1933 by none other than Scuderia Ferrari.
Inherently lightweight, powerful, responsive and quick, this 8C 2300 Monza is a beautifully presented memorial to the golden age of Italian automobiles. It is as competent today as it was 65 years ago, with lithe handling and gobs of power from its long-stroke supercharged straight-eight engine. Instantly recognizable by both cognoscenti and the uninformed as a Great Car, it is a ticket to the greatest historic racing and touring events, where its style, grace and performance will inspire onlookers, but most of all, thrill its driver. The new owner of this 8C 2300 Monza enjoys a direct connection with personalities like Nuvolari, Campari, Caracciola, Jano and even Enzo Ferrari—who drove his last race in an 8C 2300.
{analysis} This car earned a high bid of $850,000 at the RM Amelia Island auction on March 10, 2001, but did’t sell. Buyers were not seduced by the boy-racer fantasy the auction catalog’s copy tried to inspire.
Matching serial numbers have become a standard for evaluating the originality of a car. Matching numbers signify a virginal car, a mechanical noble savage. This 8C Alfa Romeo has matching serial numbers, but it isn’t at all the car I owned 40 years ago. When I owned 2211133, it was a long-chassis car with a non-original heavy drophead body created somewhere in the bowels of Eastern Europe. It had burst out of iron-curtain Hungary full-chat, carrying its occupants and a few possessions to freedom in the West. It was a comfortable 100-mph tourer that I drove from Connecticut to Michigan over an unforgettable, snowy weekend. Its engine sounds, even when enveloped in a stodgy body, were music. I often lifted the hood and revved the engine just to hear all the gears work their magic. Its skinny tires gave it great traction in the snow, and I occasionally drove it to work to keep the battery charged and the mechanicals lubricated.
When I owned this car (from 1962-65, as I recall), it was still regarded as an interesting method of transportation, so practical issues such as reliability and maintenance figured in the decision to buy. It never let me down. Gradually, however, the thought of the engine ingesting some incompressible object through the supercharger began to wear on me, and I finally traded it back to Ed Bond for an unsupercharged 6C James Young Phaeton, plus two other cars. At the time I let it go, my total investment in the 8C was about $2,500.
The estimated price range on this car before it crossed the block at Amelia Island was $1 to $1.3 million. That’s long-chassis 8C money, not the $2.5 to $3.3 million a real Monza commands. In this case, the attraction of matching numbers seems to have had no influence on the value of the car, and the expensive Zagato and Monza modifications have produced absolutely no return on investment. If I had done nothing more than keep the car and then let it go for the $850,000 high bid, the car would have paid me just over $21,000 for each year I owned it. That’s a great ROI by any standard. I would have saved a genuine slice of automotive history and the considerable expense of giving the world another imitation Monza. Moreover, I’d still be able to recognize the Alfa I once owned.
This 8C started life as a long-chassis (3100 mm) coupe. Keith Hellon shortened the chassis to 2750 mm to fit a replica Zagato body, and then Rodney Felton shortened it further to the 2650 mm Monza specification. So, the Monza body is really the fourth this car has worn, and the chassis has had three lengths.
Why in the world would anyone spend so much unrecoverable money to create a replica? Side-by-side with a real Monza, in the pits or on the track, this is an absolutely equivalent car in all respects (except for the magneto drive and, possibly, a 2.6-liter displacement). That makes this car a one-third-priced bargain that looks like a Monza, drives like a Monza and goes like a Monza. And it’s got matching serial numbers, which is more than most Monzas (there were a debatable 10 originals, six of which were converted to 2.6 liters) can now claim.
However, a more original car has been lost. Does the creation of another ersatz Monza justify the sacrifice of a long-chassis 8C? In this instance, the market’s clear answer is no.—Pat Braden{/analysis}