This coming September, I will be sending my precious and rare unrestored 1964 Abarth-Simca 2 Mila Corsa Short Nose to the Duke of Richmond’s motorsports soirée, the Goodwood Revival. Alert readers will immediately recognize that this is the self-same Goodwood Revival defined by “racing, red in tooth and claw.” There may be old cars there, there may be important cars there, but every car in the front half of the pack will be stretched to its mechanical limit by drivers who know how to keep the throttle nailed to the floor. And yes, when things get pushed hard, stuff, as they say, happens. The list of mechanical and driving misfortunes at Goodwood over the years is extensive. We can ask, “Why am I doing something so intemperate given that Simca-Abarths are outrageously difficult to keep running?”
Risk vs. reward
Clearly, I have the same thought that so many inmates currently residing in supermax prisons have had: I think I’ll get away with it. I’m counting on my Abarth, as the metaphoric pitcher in the adage, having several more uneventful trips to the well. So, what’s this decision all about? Well, race cars that sit in hushed galleries will never be damaged. But race cars as active matter need the track, not necessarily at Goodwood, but at least at some place where the wolves of their nature can slip the leash. The question ultimately becomes, what level of risk justifies the benefits? After all, we are dealing with a significant piece of human legacy that has, to date, evaded the tire-smoking spin and subsequent crunching arrest in the barriers.
Readers who have been paying attention to my articles over the years might now say, “This is an unrestored car with fabulous original patina. Didn’t you say that the problem with unrestored cars is that original patina, if damaged, can’t be repaired?” And, indeed, I did and do. Provided any damage incurred is minor, the Abarth already has enough bare aluminum, ripples, fire damage and minor dents that one more scuff will present no great problem. But a major hit would present a major problem. Reducing that probability lies in the capable hands of our driver. And yes, he will have instructions to protect the car above all else, even at the expense of pace or position. Given his experience with the Abarth at other venues, I anticipate a relatively drama-free event. Of course, the unexpected can occur. We’ve had “another driver’s accident” before. The nature of such things is that they are both unforeseeable and unavoidable. It’s just bad luck. Here, I think we must rely on the old Clint Eastwood line, “Do I feel lucky?”
Fortune favors the bold
Much of what the Revs Institute does involves the production of research and research-based media. In this case, we plan to operate a little-known GT racing car that offers the potential to inform and, yes, even astonish, a large group of knowledgeable spectators and competitors with its formidable pace and presence. By reenacting the Abarth’s past competitions in the modern era, the lost and forgotten past of these cars is reanimated, brought back in physical form with an immediacy and dramatic impact that is unavailable with more temperate and cautious operation. This is the nature of archaeological experimentation. Ideally, we would reenact the past with a replica object, but such an undertaking is logistically and financially impossible.
The team will learn an enormous amount about what it took to field one of these cars in world-championship events 60 years ago. Revitalizing a lost past is not a trivial accomplishment. To that end, the car is as it was in 1964, with the addition of constant-velocity joints replacing the notoriously failure-prone original Abarth inner axle joints. Given that sudden axle failure can result in loss of control and a potentially major accident, these modern parts seem like a prudent step.
There is a plan
Much of the approach to use relates to the priorities of the caretaker. There are two ways to think about custodianship: One is to ensure the preservation of the car as matter for as long as possible, if not indefinitely. This is the “preserved forever” school of thinking that may be seen at art museums. Any exposure of the things on display to influences that might conceivably lead to deterioration is avoided. Even active matter, which must operate to be understood, is not exempt from the use-prohibition.
Opposed to that is the display of active matter that places primary emphasis on activation, the “active” part of active matter. We see this approach at science and technology museums, where the object’s physicality is subordinated to its ability to demonstrate function. Essentially, if the object cannot be seen operating in the world or on film, the value of static exhibition is compromised. In our view, the automobile has very little value beyond being an automobile-shaped, passive lump if it doesn’t “go.” I am not advocating that active matter needs to be seen in continuous operation, but that it must be operational, and that it be demonstrated periodically at public venues where its full range of working properties can be appreciated.
The role of photography, both still and film, becomes critical in documenting the object’s operating sessions for the times when it is relegated to inactive gallery storage. Indeed, the thorough documentation of the Goodwood adventure will be an important aspect of the exercise. As we have discovered, when we race or even demonstrate an historical automobile, we learn more about what it takes to run and maintain that machine. This accruing archive of practices and skills becomes an important addition to the body of tacit knowledge for future generations. Collecting and making such knowledge available is “on mission” for Revs in its journey to be the most useful global resource in the historical and meaningful car space.
