October 24, 2025
I’m reading Go Like Hell, AJ Baime’s wonderful recounting of the Ford/Ferrari LeMans rivalry. Sometimes, after dinner, I’ll take it out to the garage, sit next to the Silver Bullet (my Shelby Cobra) and read to it. It’s a nice bonding moment, the car and me.
Anyway…
Auto racing is a metaphor for a lot of things, and so, a few passages and how they resonated for me.
“The war left Ferrari penniless, his father and brother dead. He was relatively uneducated, having sat through four years of elementary school and three of trade school. But he possessed a valuable talent…a knack for fixing things.”
I love stories like that. Bootstrap yourself, make something of yourself. No time for complaining. But more, it reminded me to remind my kids that those 529 Plans can include paying for trade schools and community colleges and similars that are not four-year college degree programs. Perspective: if my grandson was Enzo Ferrari, would I prefer him to go for a four-year degree in Family Issues, or go to automotive trade school?
Ferrari:
- “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 fast car…if he can survive until the end of the race.”
The Italians have a way with wild expression (see Verdi operas), and I liked the “demigod” description. Because in his era, those drivers did assume the mantle of demigod, greater than life. In part, because Grand Prix racing in the early days was so very dangerous. Ferrari put together a stable of seven wonderful wild drivers for his Scuderia Ferrari Team. Within two years, six would be dead in horrific racing accidents. This willingness to die made them bigger than life.
Tazio Nuvolari was a legendary Italian driver who competed primarily in the 1920s through 1950s for Ferrari. He’s considered one of the greatest racing drivers of all time and was nicknamed “Il Mantovano Volante” (The Flying Mantuan). Amazingly, he survived multiple crashes and died of natural causes at age 60. And here is how a person passes into legend;
“In July 1935, Nuvolari and a caravan from Scuderia Ferrari left Modena and traveled to the German Grand Prix at the Nurburgring, 14 miles of mountainous twists. Nazi storm troopers escorted them to the starting grid. Everyone believed the German cars, massive silver machines from Mercedes and Auto Union to be invincible. The Fuhrer himself was listening in by radio. The German silver arrows lapped at outrageous speeds with swastikas painted on their bodies. Manfred Von Brauchitsch, a nephew of a high-ranking Nazi, led the race in a Mercedes Benz.
But Nuvolari hunted him down in his Ferrari sporting the black Prancing Horse. As the racers tore into the last lap, and the crowds roared, a voice piped over the loudspeakers: “Brauchitsch has burst a tire! Nuvolari has passed him!
At home in Modena, Ferraris’ phone range. Nuvolari had won the German Grand Prix. In Italy, entire cities erupted in celebration.”
But here’s what you need to know: The Germans had 100 horsepower more than the Ferraris and that’s why they were believed to be invincible. But Nuvolari didn’t care about that…he outdrove them. Amazing.
Here’s a one-minute clip, grainy but compelling. #7 is Von Brauchitsch but it is Nuvolari smiling at the end. With sound up you’d think you’re hearing Stuka dive bombers coming in. Note: No seat belts, no doors, no nothing but you and the pavement:
You can see how these guys fired the imagination.
Just to say that between Jesse Owens and The Flying Mantuan, Adolf was having a helluva time selling that Aryan supremacy thing.
Meanwhile:
“This was American racing at Daytona. An oval superspeedway and modified stock American cars, a perfect marriage between sport and industry. 14 Fords and 14 GMs were on the track. The drivers included Fireball Roberts, the 270 pound “Tiny” Lund, and Junior Johnson. With 15 laps to go, the crowd was treated to a breathtaking spectacle. Three Fords ran at the front in a tight pack, slipstreaming into the banked turns. Their chrome bumpers were inches apart, moving well over 160mph. Down at Victory Lane, Lund clutched Miss Florida under his arm and smiled for the cameras, the trophy sitting atop his Ford behind him.”
And here he is, Miss Florida and all:
Lund was beloved and died racing at Talladega.
So, as you probably know, I hit 160 in a NASCAR stock car last year at Daytona, so I can readily relate to the speed. But me rounding the turns alone is quite different than doing it with a half dozen cars, inches away, bumping and bumping each other. I really can’t imagine but they do it all the time. Clear to me, however, that I simply lack the courage these guys have. Some would say they lack the IQ points, but that would be wrong…they got the guts and determination I lack in a racing machine.
But, you know, you can pretend.
My overall take is an old one…have passion for something. Take chances, strive, stretch. Love something deeply and stay involved. In my case, racing is just flat out fun. I’m inspired by the people; the stories and events are wonderful. And oh, those cars!
I can participate in a very amateur kind of way, so I feel part of the history. As I age, my speed will slow as reaction time and physical ability wanes. But even late in life, I can still watch and read and put on the ear protection and sit at Daytona, bits of tires spitting into my lap from the cars roaring by just 20 feet away. And I can revel in all of it.
We all need things like this, things that take us away from our daily lives, put us in an imaginative land of excitement and excellence and energy.
Helps make life worth living.
Thoughts, questions, or reflections? I’d love to hear them. You can reach me anytime at anthony@workingprofit.com
