quattro cinque otto

I have a love affair with Italy!
I suppose that in a country that hails beauty in all it’s forms and shapes like that one, I too feel a bit more beautiful (or less ugly).
I’m a sucker for Italian food and clothing, but most of all Italian cars!
The sleek lines of a Pininfarina designed Ferrari, the sheer monstrosity of a Lamborghini Murcielago and the finesse of a Pagani Zonda..
Truly the stuff of masters, and as an art form, it’s one that’s been perfected through the centuries, having all the great impressionist artists as forefathers.
But this week, I drooled!
Not over Monica Bellucci – pretty common drooling symptom on a male adult of the human species; but over the pictures of the new Ferrari 458 Italia!
Oh My God!
It renders all other cars before it common and, in fairness, quite blunt.
The prowess of it’s design is only surpassed by the technological achievements in it’s engine compartment.
The specific output; the torque, the acceleration figures, the consumption figures, and, to those green heads out there who only think in CO2 terms, the low emissions, they just keep me yearning, aching for one in my hands.
The price is high, of course.
But it’s a Ferrari for crying out loud.
It’s the epitome of automotive brilliance.
Ok, so there’s the Pagani.
But a Ferrari has heritage, history, blood, sweat and an Ocean full of tears!
It’s the story of a man towering above an entire industry.
And it’s red.
Red ones go faster after all.
And this new one….
Even it’s name is evocative of those great Ferraris of yore.
458, meaning it’s a 4.5 litre engine with 8 cylinders.
And then, as a tribute to the country that saw it become the stuff of legend, more than just mere childhood dream: Italia!
I love that country.
And I love that car!
I want one!

Universal truth

"Race car driving is like sex: all men think they're good at it" - Jay Leno on Top Gear

In the 'Ring..

Strange things pass by when you're in the Ring..

In and out

So after nearly two months of arriving from the trip the car has been in and out of the shop with constante pressure losses that seem to elude everybody.
Luckily the guys at Speedsterforum.de and vx220.org are the greatest bunch and keep feeding me info on what must i check and what can be wrong with it so it's not all bad.
I mean at least I am aware of others like me and it keeps you dreaming about the day when your car will be as good as theirs (that's especially true to you cs! I do love that black thing you drive!).

One bittersweet truth that I am now coming to accept is that I must go to Germany once again with my car for a proper tune up.
Maybe not to upgrade it, but just to have it checked out by someone in the know..

It's also a very good excuse to return to the 'Ring :)
Let's wait and see..

my co-pilot

You’re only as good as the person standing next to you.

This is a great truth, and never before had I experienced it as I did on this trip.
Fred’s a great guy, but life wouldn’t normally connect us, fate did.
We took a post grad degree together, and from a professional liason we became friends with a craving for motors and cars.
Oh, and airplanes!
And, when things went wrong in my dream journey I didn’t back down or decided not to go.
No.
I immediately called Fred and asked him to join me.
Which he did.
And it was the BEST thing that could have happened.
I mean, having someone next to you, talking to you, cheering you, and even waking you up when you just want to sleep out your tiredness.
It was amazing, I don’t think I’ll ever thank him enough.
And, obviously, my performance at the ‘Ring was not humiliating because of him.
“full speed, right turn after the straight, watch that apex…”
A knowledgeable and dependable person.
I was really lucky with my decision and he was the most amazing and stocked guy that I could have as a partner in this long trip.

And yes, Maria, trust me, he was a saint!! -> I did try to take him off the track once in a while but he stoically resisted. Guess French women aren’t that cute after all :P

going back home

Hossegor

“Damn this GPS!!”
This was all I could say for about half an hour.
We had left Nurburg around 19:00, and we had booked a night in Reims (around 300kms) but in Belgium the GPS made us do some sort of detour by some awful, filled with potholes B-road.
The car just shivered and jiggled and slowly, really slowly we moved on (there were parts were we did less than 20Km/h for fear of the damage caused to the car).
Initially we had joined a Porsche 968CS complete with roll cage for the journey back, but then we followed the GPS’s directions and got lost….
When we did arrive in Reims, all we could think of was food, being starved enough to consider eating the padding of our seats….
The night was short but Ok.
Reims is a fairly small city, with a lot of road work being done and personally I just wanted to get out of there and get home.
I get like this all the time when I travel: after the highlight of the journey has been reached I seem to be unable to enjoy the rest of it, only thinking about returning home.
This was about to change though..
We charged through France relentlessly, stopping only for fuel and food.
We did do a bigger stop at some service station when we met up with a really nice Frenchman in his Lotus Seven.

A frenchman's Sportscar: They don't all drive 2CVs

He wore an aviation jacket and goggles to drive the thing, and he was really pationate (being French and all….) about his cars and driving.
He showed us pics of his other car: a proper racing car much like a Radical or Westfield XTR.
He was having some problems with the carburetor and took the cover of the engine out (much like taking my hardtop) to check it out!
It’s so simple to build a fun-car really.
You looked at that car and it was no more than a chassis, a simple 4-pot engine, two seats and a small windshield.
We parted but the moment was really enjoyable.
People gathered around to chat about our cars, ask questions, give friendly advice and the “thumbs up”.
On the road again, it was Fred’s time with the car, I took a few pictures and dosed off for a few moments.
When I opened my eyes and saw that direction sign pointing to: Le Mans I just felt so melancholical.
The beautiful eyed girl from the museum store, the race track. I should just move there and spend the rest of my days enjoying the city!
But I still had one more place to go to: Hossegor!
I don’t know how many of you are into surfing, but living in a country like Portugal does this to you: you can’t be too far away from the Ocean for too long, otherwise you skin will fall off.
And Hossegor is one of those places you just have to go one day.
It’s where the European leg of the ASP World Championship Tour takes place, and it’s known because it provides big waves that are more common in the Tahitian and Hawaiian beaches.
I admit that I didn’t know quite what to expect.
In Portugal the most famous beaches are all invaded with tall buildings that ruin the landscape, and crowd is not just a word, but an epidemic that spreads through the waves.
The first part of Hossegor is a small town, with the usual surf shops, beautiful homes, not that much traffic and really nice people.
The “second part” of Hossegor… Is California!
Seriously!
You know those TV series where you see Malibu, Orange County, all the surfers and surfer girls, skaters on the sidewalks, people just “hangin’” not really doing anything, just enjoying themselves and the sunset?
That’s Hossegor!
And I loved it!
Fred knew nothing about it, to my amazement, and I gave him a quick brief of what goes on in that little city every year.

Hotel de la Plage

Our hotel was really nice, beach front, but luckily my room had a “city view” which was worst for everybody else, but perfect for me, as this allowed me to check my car :)
I think the pictures speak for themselves, but in case they don’t: I loved the place!
I’ve said this a couple of times now, but really I could live here!
It’s just so…. Me!
It’s like my hometown but with world class surfers and waves!
Oh, and smaller houses :)
We dined at a local restaurant and even rooted for Barcelona on the Champions Football final!
Personally I couldn’t care less about who won, but everybody was a Barcelona fan so….
After dinner we took a stroll down the beach and found…. Kelly Slater!
Ok, only Kelly Slater’s cemented footprint but still…. It’s Kelly’s!!!!

Slater's the man!!

Quick question: do you know who Kelly is?
I’m just asking ‘cause, again, Fred was oblivious to him, and so he just stared at me with amazement in his face as to why I was almost freaking out over this foot print.
Kelly’s a living legend!
He’s the guy that’s set the bar so high in Surfing that I don’t think no one will ever beat him.
As I write this, he just won the Brazilian leg of the 2009 tour! Go Kelly!
Think Michael Schumacher of Surfing plus two.
Two you ask?
Two I say! Because Michael, being the freak of nature of a pilot that he his, only managed to win 7 times the World Title, and Kelly, absurdly had the guts to win it NINE, that’s 9 times!
He took the liberty of quitting professional surfing after his 5th or 6th title and then came back for more!
Rumor has it that when he won the 7th title, Lance Armstrong, the cycling champ who won the Tour de France seven times already went up to him and said: welcome to the seven club!
Now Lance, you have two to go if you want to keep up with Kelly there…. :)
Yeah, I’m a fan…. :)

Do you honestly think it'll fit??

Anyway, next morning the sun was shining, and the waves were pumping but no boards and a desperate urge to return home meant it was mounting the puzzle at the boot with all the stuff in and just take a few more pictures.

Take a good look at that wave..

(When I came home I took a closer look on one of the pictures and my jaw dropped.. See for yourself..)Now take a better look!

Au revour France, Holla España!

To a Portuguese Spain feels like home already!

We may have some rivalries but it’s all in good fun, and the Bask country is a much different thing, beautiful anyway you look, smelly with flowers and trees perfuming the roads, nice helpful people, oh, and delicious food!

Bask country: beautiful!

We passed a truck that remind me of work, seems I can’t get too far away from it, it comes to haunt me wherever I am. But I still had a few days left :)

Airbus A320: the flying SpeedSter

The Spanish “Carreteras” – roads; are all very good and most importantly: free and not very controlled with some speed cameras here and there.
We entered Portugal at about 16:00 and I had to stop and get out of the car.
MY country!
I travel quite a lot, and I meet people that bash on their countries, and people that stand up for them.
I know mine is just a small one, on the corner of Europe, and palles in comparison with mammoth economies and civilizations like Germany and France, but still, I love it, I love my country!
I could live abroad, I could really.
I loved Italy and Denmark, and the south of France is also really appealing, but my heart would always beat faster for Portugal.
Now only 2 hours where separating us from my city!
Ah, open windows, clear skies, warm rays of sunlight in our skin….
Suddenly I could see it, far away: the Ocean! MY Ocean!
I was home!
Kilometers where dispatched at a “I’m-sorry-officer-the-car-just-went-for-it-and-i-lost-control-of-the-speed-i-was-going” rate, and soon enough we were on the main straight to my little beach paradise.
It was funny though, that, being Portuguese and warm blooded, some guy in a Audi A3 TDI still thought he could keep up with us and so started accelerating like a maniac to pass us.
He did, for about 4 seconds..
Honor was at stake here!
We took the stuff out of the boot, drank a bottle of water each, and I was off again to take Fred home.


Staring at the Ocean I felt my heart warm up and beat just a bit faster.
I had done it.
We had done it.
The Journey to the ‘Ring was now over, and all was well.
Time for a swim..

Who wouldn't want to come running home, if this is what's expecting?

The NurburgRing

The "Green Hell"!
Tales of horror and near-death have haunted the spirits of every fuel-fed car enthusiast.
The glory of doing the ‘Ring in a “decent” time prevails forever.
To master that track is the ultimate trophy, but who can truly say that masters it?
For it is like a wild beast, untamable.
The ‘Ring has been part of my imagination for a few years now, and when the Nissan GT-R appeared and all the “Porschegate” case started I only got more drawn to it.
Never a very computer game oriented person I actually did try and played Gran Turismo to learn the track, but to no avail. I really can’t steer a joystick in the proper manner.
So I was a ‘Ring virgin when I got there, and luckily Fred knew the track better than most guys know their girlfriends, otherwise I would have been quicker if I walked around the track instead of driving it.
The day begun in the usual way: sunny skies and a few miles ahead.
We went first to the RSR HQ to take care of all the details regarding our car for the afternoon.
Everybody was amazing.
Not just nice and thoughtful, but really amazing.
From Dale who showed us around and talked to us about the ‘Ring and RSR, to Ron, the Boss, who was the nicest guy, again, and asked for more details on what had happened to my car and how we could try and fix it in a near by shop if we wanted.
We spent a few minutes in front of a TV seeing a movie of an amazing wet lap in an Alfa Romeo just like the one we were about to take.
We signed the papers and since we had about 5 hours to burn went to the souvenir store.
There we were met by memorabilia from the “good old days” to the newly designed NurburgRing logo and merchandise.
We each bought a t-shirt and a bunch of other smaller stuff, and took picures next to the bronze statue of Sir Sterling Moss!
Lunch followed in the company of the greatest bunch of British bikers.
It turns out they go to the ‘Ring every year and they filled us with stories of the Green Hell and how it all worked over there.
We got lucky even, because just above our restaurant was this amazing place to look at the track were we spent the remaing hours until we headed of back to RSR.
Let me just tell you that the sound of 3, three, F430 Scuderias passing by in fury is something I think I’ll never forget.
A GT-R is silent next to them, and even Fred had to admit that his precious GT3RS sound much more restrained than that screaming howl of those high revving V8s….
Glorious stuff I tell you!
Back at RSR, we each picked up a helmet and had a few laughs with this really nice American that had come all the way from the States to drive the ‘Ring.
And then it happened: it started to rain.
All they grey clouds were above us, and during all day they had kept themselves from droping down water.
But now it was raining.
The fear of losing control of the car grew exponentially and we both cursed out loud for not being able to push the car further for fear of the wet track (we were going with slick tires, bear in mind).
Then the greatest thing happened: Dale turned to us and said that he was going to take his car (a 3.0 liter V6 Alfa Romeo 75) for a run down the track to check out if it was still drivable, and if the tires needed changing. He asked if we wanted to go with him.
Funny thing he had to ask. I wondered for about 10 seconds about the possibility of anybody turning him down on this….
When we were in the queue to enter the track he called HQ and told them to put regular road tires in the cars. It was now clear that the raining wasn’t going to stop.
We passed the tolls, and he accelerated a bit more, nothing out of the ordinary (it’s a bloody old Alfa V6, mind), but when he got to the first turn my lips turned to this gigantic GRIN.
Have I told you by any chance that Dale was a former Drifter in the U.K.?
Well, he was, and by the looks of things, he hasn’t lost zilch of his capabilities.
On two or three turns we even went further then 90 degrees of drift from the apex.
WOW!
I just burst out laughing!
And the ease with which he did it all!
His hands just spinning the wheel at an amazing speed while at the same time he talked us through the turns and straights and where we should push and were we should be careful.
When it ended I wanted him to do it again! :)
The cars were ready and heated up when we arrived.
We picked up our card and went to the track to have our fun!
We were going one at a time, and Fred was first to have a go.
I met up with our biker friends who had already been at the track and said it was soaked!!
I timed from the outside how long it took Fred to do his first lap: around 14 minutes.
First time ever, not bad, on a totally wet track, with a strange car in his hands.
He went for the second track and again I pushed the stop watch.
In the meantime I got busy besides the nice chat with our biker friends, watching all the amazing machinery that passed by.
On one of those occasions I saw him.
I had already chased him at lunch time, but I couldn’t be totally sure if it was indeed him.
Now I was.
Mr. Henry Catchpole from EVO magazine.
I’ve been buying that mag since… forever. And before I bought my car I read absolutely everything they had to say on the subject.
And now, the “newest addition” to EVO’s editorial staff was passing in front of me, in a V10 powered, white Audi R8.
Nice!!
Fred appeared from the gate. 12minutes and a few seconds. Not bad at all!
Away he went again, and again I clocked.
But now time passed and he didn’t show up.
All of a sudden a ambulance takes of from the pits.
I started to succumb to my imagination.
Oh please let him be Ok. Please!
I could never forgive myself!
14 minutes.
15 minutes.
16, 17, 18….
DARN!
20 minutes and no sign of him.
I’m cursing out loud now, where the F$&/ is he????
All of a sudden he shows up, big grin in his face: Did you checked my time?
“Yeah, you took, oh, almost 2 weeks!! What the hell have you been doing?”
It turns out that when he passed the tolls, he had been told to stay put.
That’s when the ambulance entered the track, but from where I was standing I couldn’t see him idling just after the tolls.
We changed seats and he risked is physical integrity to be my co-pilot.
I will never be able to thank him enough.
With him by my side telling me the turns and camber and length of the straights I could push my driving and post times that didn’t make me embarrassed to publicly state.

The best one I did?
Around 12:20 give or take a few seconds.
I’m pretty proud of that time considering that professional EVO drivers in a race prep VW Scirocco took 11:44 or something to do the track, so for a first time on track, with a old beaten Alfa Romeo (albeit also race prep with roll cage and seats)…
YEAH, I’m BLODY PROUD OF MYSELF!!