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The companies marketed their cars by entering them in a series of Sunday skirmishes called National Association for Stock Car Automobile Racing—NASCAR.
“If an automobile was going to be known for speed, then I was going to make an automobile that would be known wherever speed was known.”
I am convinced, that when a man tells a woman he loves her, he only means that he desires her; and that the only total love in this world is that of a father for his son. —ENZO FERRARI, 1963
Cars raced in national colors: red for Italy, blue for France, green for England, yellow for Belgium, white (later silver) for Germany.
Ferrari laid this Prancing Horse symbol against a yellow shield, the color of Modena. This badge would one day become one of the most recognizable brand symbols in the world.
Competition is the impetus for innovation. The fiercer the competition, the faster cars will go. There is in some men a need to achieve greatness. When matched with talent, this necessity can turn humans into demigods. A man who is willing to die at the wheel is always likely to beat a man in a faster car—if he can survive until the end of the race.
The first Ferrari arrived in the United States in June 1949; the buyer was Briggs Cunningham of Connecticut, the renowned yachting champion and soon-to-be racing driver and constructor. Chinetti understood that his customer had to be special. Not just anyone could buy a Ferrari. The car would be defined in part by the man who sat in it.
Years later Ferrari was asked: Which of his cars was his favorite? He answered, “The car which I have not yet created.” And which of his victories meant the most? “The one which I have not yet achieved.”
“Everything that I’ve done, probably, I did because I couldn’t do anything less . . . One day I want to build a car that’s faster than all of them, and then I want to die.”
Hill placed second in the race, which claimed seven lives.
Ferrari’s entire business plan was based on proving on the racetrack that his cars were special—not just beautiful, but the finest and fastest in the world.
“After all,” he said, “everybody dies. Isn’t it a fine thing that Von Trips died doing something he loved, without any suffering, without any warning? I think Trips would rather be dead than not race, don’t you?”
“All right,” Henry II said. “We’ll beat his ass. We’re going to race him.”
As test driver McLaren put it: “A racing car chassis is like a piano. You can make something that looks right with all the wires, the right length, the right size, and pretty close to the right settings, but until it is tuned it won’t play so well.”
The very word—Monza—was a synonym for speed.
“What does Ferrari have that we don’t?” asked Leo Beebe. “I can tell you in a word,” John Wyer answered. “Ferrari. One man who knows his mind instead of a committee.”
“Women are more intelligent and dominating than men,” Ferrari said. “Men are creatures of their passions, and this makes them victims of women. Ettore Bugatti, a great driver and racing car builder, and a fine gentleman, once told me, ‘The perfect machine does not exist, mechanically speaking. The only perfect machine is a woman.’”
As usual, Shelby enjoyed his share of the prerace spotlight. He was coach and captain of Henry II’s army, a Pied Piper of hotrodders, a tough Texan with a sissy’s name.
“To do something well is so worthwhile that to die trying to do it better cannot be foolhardy. It would be a waste of life to do nothing with one’s ability, for I feel that life is measured in achievement, not in years alone.”
Henry II stopped in front of one of the Ferraris. He stood there holding his hands behind his back, staring down at this Italian automobile. It was indeed a thing of great beauty and power, its curves organic and undeniably sexual.
“We don’t have to feel sorry for people who choose to live dangerously, and lose. So the bull wins one. The matador must take the risk. The closer he plays to the horn, the better the show . . . Well, Miles, good show.”
