Return To Italy

You will recall my last post on driving the Mille Miglia course:

…and the difficult choices listed from which one would make for a companion, and the car for the journey.

Forget the companion.  The topic is a perennial favorite of mine (I believe my first post on the topic was back in 2017), and I was thinking about it again over the past weekend.

For one thing, I can’t help but think that in doing this particular trip, the choice of car should be exclusively Italian, for the same reason that one should eat at little trattorias  along the route rather than searching for McDonalds, and drinking Chianti rather than Diet Coke.  It’s all about Italy, and one should take the opportunity to immerse oneself in the complete esperienza italiana.

Given that I don’t like most modern cars — both their homogeneous wind-tunnel shapes, and their overpowered engines — I keep going back to the cars of my youth, and was assisted in this thought by pics of a car on sale this week at a Sotheby’s auction:  a ground-up restoration of a 1974 Alfa Romeo 2000 GTV.

 

It’s neat, it’s shapely, and that little 2-liter engine is as capable of purring along at a leisurely pace through the many narrow village streets as snarling at 75mph through mountain passes and along deserted country roads.

By 1974, Alfa had pretty much worked out all the niggles typically associated with their earlier models of the Tipo 105, and I know several guys who were still driving their GTVs of that vintage when I left South Africa in 1986, a dozen years after the car’s release.  So while there would always be a threat (promise?) of some kind of Alfa-related breakdown en route, I would still be willing to take the chance.

And in the end, if I were to become marooned in some little Italian village while the local mechanic waited for spares to arrive, I’d just have to grit my teeth and endure the experience with my translator:

She’d have to be a petite lil’ thing to fit into the GTV, you see…

Okay, so maybe she’s not that petite:

So ignoring the companion, which model Italian car (e.g. 1967 Fiat Dino 2000 GT) would you choose to make the drive?  Here’s a suggested list, just to give you ideas to draw from:

  • Alfa Romeo
  • Cisitalia
  • Ferrari
  • Fiat
  • Lamborghini
  • Lancia
  • Maserati and
  • Pagani.

And if you feel like doing a little research for an hour or two before making your final decision, let DuckDuckGo be your friend… as I did.

Skating Away

on the thin ice of the new day.

No wait, that wasn’t what I wanted to talk about;  but you can keep it running in the background anyway.

I haven’t been watching the Winter Olympics in CommieChinaland (who has?), but I noticed recently that there was some nonsense about doping and (duh) Russians, prompting a comment from Eternal Skating Hottie Katarina Witt.  So here we are:

 

Magnificent.  And… yer welcome.

Dusky Beauty

A little while back, while browsing through the Brit Newspapers (so you don’t have to), I saw mention of one Shilpa Shetty, who was in trouble for some reason a few years ago, but now is no longer — never mind the details, they are completely irrelevant and eminently forgettable.

However, Miss Shetty certainly isn’t:

Not being au courant  with the goings-on in Hollywood let alone Bollywood, I have no idea who she is or what she’s done, but she’s definitely worth a look.

Not Buying The Premise

From Longtime Reader Chaz (who had obviously taken his Grumpy Pill earlier), I got this response to yesterday’s post about driving around Italy with a gorgeous actress by your side:

As the son of an actress and a barrister, born to the stage, I have to tell you that the very idea of being obliged to drive an actress, any actress, the length of a country, any country, in a car, any car, is for me a much less than appealing prospect.

Damn it all, man, most of your cars don’t even have a back seat for her to back-seat-drive from.

Were I blackmailed or otherwise coerced into doing this I would select the fastest car and get the whole wretched business over as quickly as possible. Whichever actress came with the car could jolly well keep schtum or ride the rest of the way in the trunk (note effortless use of correct US terminology).

My choice (definitely assuming your stipulation of ‘no breakdowns’) would be the Alvis Stalwart.

And ideally no passengers. One of my recurrent nightmares used to be that of being confined for a fortnight to a compartment on the Trans-Siberian Railway with the late Archbishop Desmond Tutu. As the poor fellow is no longer with us perhaps this one will now subside.

It had me howling with laughter all the way through.

Especially at the vision of Chaz trying to maneuver the Stalwart through some of those teeny Italian village streets…

I understand the problems associated with actresses (having been once married to one) and the exasperating experience of highly-strung, unreliable old cars (former Fiat driver), but none of that compares to the absolute joy of piloting either of them at full speed, so to speak.  In other words, it would be well worth the hassle.

All that said, I nearly wimped out with my choice because, as y’all know, it’s an unbelievably difficult choice:   which gorgeous car?  which gorgeous woman?  It’s a conjoint analysis with so many factors…

…but Gina Lollobrigida and the Austin-Healey combine throbbing sexuality with throbbing automotive power, so #3 ends up being my ultimate choice.

Next Sunday’s post will feature a similar set of gut-wrenching choices.