Better than a showroom
Lehbrink and Schlegelmilch take you on a guided tour of Ferrari
history.
Ferrari.
Hartmut Lehbrink and Rainer W. Schlegelmilch
382 pages
Köln, Germany: Könemann, $50.00
(Available by special order through most good bookstores&emdash;I
got Chapters' last copy&emdash;or through Classic Motorbooks,
800-826-6600)
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There's a picture in the middle of Ferrari that really says it
all. It's a closeup of a fuel filler cap, weathered with
age&emdash;definitely unrestored. It's covered with water droplets
and the surrounding red-painted sheetmetal is scarred, even a little
bit rusty in places. The hinge on which the cap swings is worn with
age, stained with gasoline.
Despite the rarefied aura that has surrounded the company and its
founder, Enzo Ferrari, over the last fifty-one years, Ferrari has
always been about machinery, going fast, being beautiful at the same
time if at all possible. Sure, the 330 P4 that the fuel cap belongs
to is a gorgeous machine, full of compound curves and beautiful
reflections way ahead of its time; but at heart it was a race car,
and that meant quick, easy filling and the inevitable bumps and
scratches that came along with a rushed pitstop.
Hartmut Lehbrink, a noted German enthusiast, author, and
journalist, and Rainer W. Schlegelmilch, an advertising and racing
photographer, have managed to capture this spirit in every page of
writing, every glorious photo. Each of Ferrari's 382 pages is a
sensual and mechanical delight, huge color photos of intricate
details&emdash;leather straps holding down aluminum hoods; seatbacks
perforated by air-conditioning vents&emdash;and beautiful Bodoni type
set on heavy, glossy paper.
The fact that the text is in four languages&emdash;along with the
German-sounding names of the authors&emdash;at first led me not to
expect much from the writing; this after all being a book that you
obviously buy for the photos. Yet, aside from some&emdash;what might
be for us&emdash;odd forms of measurement (such as newton-meters
instead of pounds-feet for torque) the writing is clear, concise and
lively. It doesn't seem translated at all, which is either a
testament to unnamed and skillful translators, or to the authors, who
may have executed each version separately.
Ferrari divides itself into three major sections: the man, the
marque, and the cars themselves. The first two sections are
glossed-over to an extent; for Lehbrink and Schlegelmilch, the
interest and the story of Ferrari is in the cars themselves; Ferrari,
after all, isn't about Enzo's being a sharp dresser, nor about the
Fiat buyout in 1969&emdash;it's in the engines, the chassis, the
machines.
And their knowledge of these machines is encyclopedic. Every model
of Ferrari ever made is here, including obscure models like the 250
GT Europa, of which only 18 were made. A section at the rear provides
specifications for each model, painstakingly researched and detailed
with chassis numbers, performance figures and nicely-drawn side
profile sketches.
It's also quite obvious how much the authors love these
cars&emdash;every paragraph bubbles with enthusiasm, and the
photographs show an eye for detail and a love of form that only a
knowledgeable enthusiast could have. Moreover, the pictures aren't
all of red cars&emdash;a failing, unfortunately, of many Ferrari
books out on the market today. The original 1948 Spider Touring is
shot in a beautiful navy blue, and the 250 GTO is silver with red,
white and blue stripes. The 1992 456GT is featured in yellow; I now
wish the blue one parked on my desk in 1/18th scale was that colour.
(Evidently, to investors who&emdash;for shame&emdash;buy Ferraris
for their investment value rather than any kind of emotional appeal,
red is the way to go as it fetches higher prices at auctions and
tends to hold its value better; it's supposedly the least offensive
offered by the factory. But if you're buying a Ferrari, or any other
exotic car for that matter, as an investment, you've missed the
point.)
The hundreds of photos have but one major failing&emdash;almost
none of them show the cars in action. While there are some
photographs of racing Ferraris like the 333SP at speed, and archival
photos of Enzo at speed in the early days, most of the cars are shown
static. Beautifully, shinily and excitingly static, to be sure, but
static nonetheless. Still, it's a fault I find easy to
excuse&emdash;many of these cars must be worth millions of dollars,
and to get them onto the road doing hooligan-journalist antics,
smoking tires and going sideways, isn't in keeping with the book's
reverential attitude.
Still, at $50.00 for what looks and feels like an
$80.00&emdash;nay, $100.00&emdash;book, Ferrari makes a great
coffee-table topper, and a marvelous gift to an enthusiast
friend&emdash;or yourself. While most of us won't ever be able to
afford a Ferrari in our lifetime&emdash;hey, that's why I have one on
my desk and not in my garage&emdash;we can all live vicariously
through Lehbrink's word-processor and Schlegelmilch's Nikon. For many
of us, this enthusiastic writing, this encyclopedic knowledge and
this glorious photography is probably as close as we'll ever come to
these machines&emdash;closer even than in most stuffy Ferrari
showrooms.