The Legend Stands

The British auctioneer’s wooden hammer echoed sharply on Sotheby’s rostrum last night here in New York and I went over to congratulate the seller and his family. The single lot in the auction had been dispatched in just under seven minutes and polite applause rippled around the room whose tall white walls were hung with priceless art awaiting its turn later. The voluptuous red Ferrari 330 LM/250 GTO had been billed as “The One, a unique and fleeting opportunity” which the auction house had compared to “a Perseid meteor . . . a flash of lightning . . . a speed machine so celebrated that it qualifies as the very definition of a legend”. Cars guys may smile at the Madison Avenue hype, but the fact that something with an ignition key now qualifies as the pre-title credits to a high brow art auction week is in itself confirmation that a car is no longer just a car. At $51.7 million with commission, it joins an exclusive club with just a few paintings and sculptures that have been auctioned for as much (and a certain Mercedes, but that’s another story).

In fairness there have always been cars which were destined to be admired more for their looks than the excitement of driving. Think of the Art Deco-styled Figoni & Falaschi-bodied ­Delahayes and Talbot-Lagos of the late 1930s, whose front wheels could barely turn inside the all-enveloping custom bodywork which gave the impression of doing 200 km/h while standing still, yet limited movement to little more than concours d’élégance parade speeds. Those cars were built more for show than go, and witty British rivals nicknamed them “Phoney and Flashy”.

Yet today you’re just as likely to see a Ferrari 250 GTO, a work horse conceived with little or no regard to aesthetics, carefully disassembled then rebuilt over years with an attention to fit and finish that would have made its original creators – who built it in a matter of weeks with crude welding and heavy hammers – laugh (or perhaps cry) if they’d known it would now be judged by men in blazers armed with clipboards on a manicured lawn, not the heat of battle on the shimmering asphalt at Le Mans or the potholed roads of the Targa Florio.

Who’s right and who’s wrong? And if someone has spent their own money to buy the car, does it matter?

The story of the 250 GTO is probably the most extreme example of an object that went from being obsolete and unwanted to earning legendary status among collectors with the price tag to match, but it’s not alone. Ettore Bugatti couldn’t ( … )

→ You can read Simon Kidston's entire column in ramp #63 "Happy on the Road".