Luciano Favaron: Mr. Ferrari

“You only live once, so you might as well make the best of it.” Luciano Favaron beams like the rising sun over the Mediterranean as he says this. Then the Venice native opens the next bottle of Prosecco with a practiced hand. We’re not on the Adriatic coast here, but in a backyard workshop in Hamburg, in an alley behind the rather unflattering Nedderfeld auto mile in the northern city district of Lokstedt. In the hall of a low-rise building stands a 1980 Ferrari 308 GTBi (“I bought it for DM 7,000 at the time.”), next to it an Alfa Spider, in between an unadorned espresso machine on a small table, and opposite that a 1950 Fiat Topolino. Ferrari tools are neatly lined up on the walls, in the corner a drum kit sits enthroned on a small stage, guitars and Venetian masks hang from the ceiling, the fan heater roars, and Italo pop blares incessantly overhead.

Photos cover every last bit of free space, among them F1 legends Michael Schumacher, Niki Lauda and Gerhard Berger, former soccer star Günter Netzer, legendary local pimp Handsome Klaus, German folk singer Heino and Italian actress Ornella Muti – just to name a few. Favaron also has several photos of -television chef Steffen Henssler on his wall because he cooked with him on TV, and of comedian Alfons because his late-night show was recorded here. Everyone who is anyone has been to see Luciano, or “Luci”, as people call him, especially local luminaries, show -business greats, footballers and boxers. He’s been working on Italian luxury cars here since the 1980s, though the occasional Rolls-Royce might find its way into his workshop as well. Favaron, who is seventy-four years old but looks more like he’s in his late fifties, doesn’t really need to work anymore. “But what would I do at home?” he asks, throwing his hands up in the air. “Have you eaten?” he then asks, before scurrying off to slice up some wild boar salami and parmesan.

Favaron was raised by his grandparents on a farm in rural Padua under extremely humble conditions. He learned the coachbuilding trade at Ferrari Mestre, near Venice, and dreamed of becoming a musician. “A man without dreams has missed out on life,” says Favaron, adding that this also applies to women, of course. He may be old school, but he’s not from yesterday. In any case, “visions”, as he calls them, are important to him. In 1969 he grabbed his guitar and wanted to travel to London – but only made it as far as Hamburg Central Station. He still shudderingly remembers the stale smell of the cold deep-frying fat that wafted over the tracks back then.

But he stayed. Not only because of the many bridges in Hamburg that reminded him of his home, but also because he fell in love. He is still married to Monika today, and photos of the two fill the workshop. A picture of their wedding can be found, of all places, on a pillar next to the lifting platform where quite a few items of female clothing are hanging about. Some are trimmed with delicate lace, others are covered with rivets and leather. How they ended up here is not immediately apparent, only that there were once many more of them and that a ride in Favaron’s Ferrari had something to do with it. What Monika thinks of all this? “I was always faithful!” Luciano exclaims. For those innocently upturned eyes, he should get an award.

Favaron’s pronounced sense of showmanship led him to record albums with titles like Pizza, Pasta e Amore under the name Luciano Della Rosa and to go on tour with German musicians like Frank Zander and Bernd Clüver. When his music career slowed down, Favaron started working in a car repair shop where his brother Paolo, who had also come to Hamburg, was already employed. In the mid-eighties, the brothers set up their own business in the garage in Lokstedt. His success is due in part to the fact that Favaron was pretty much the only person in Hamburg who knew his way around Italian supercars. “They also call me Mr. Ferrari,” says Favaron, raising his chin and tucking his hands into his smock. Not to mention that the gentlemen from the red-light district didn’t necessarily have the patience to let the V12 of their Ferrari or Lamborghini warm up enough – and before you knew it, they were back in Favaron’s shop. In the end, the entertainment industry’s favorite Italian mechanic simply did did an excellent job. (...)

→ Read the full story in rampstyle #34 “On Any Sunday”.